The four Ds

by BRK   

Four close friends get away for a mountain cabin vacay, only for the environs to make them hornier than usual.

Dante pushed open the door and walked into the cabin, spreading his arms wide. “Voilà!” he said, taking in the spacious, if slightly dusty, oak-themed interior. “Welcome to Chez Cavazos, I guess.”

His friends came in behind him, looking around curiously at the high-peaked vaulted ceiling, the heavy wooden beams, and sturdy, comfortable-looking furniture, leaving the bags and coolers in the car to get later. “I can’t believe you’ve never been up here,” Darius said, crossing to the wide, stone-set fireplace and examining some small, framed photographs propped on the mantelpiece above.

Dante joined him and was surprised to see the pictures were all of more or less the same group of well-built shirtless men, arms around each other’s shoulders as they beamed for the camera. In addition to the cozy-looking photos there were a few other objets d’art along the mantel of a suggestive or even sybaritic nature, including a deliberately rough sculpture of two brawny men from the waist up who seemed to be melting into each other as they furiously kissed. Next to it was a squat totem of a monkey god cheekily grasping his arm-sized, very erect dick. “Me neither,” Dante laughed, and Darius gave him a shy grin from under his lashes. Dante had never even met the older second cousin who’d abruptly disappeared last autumn after arranging the bequeathal of his entire estate to Dante, but it sure looked like he’d had a fun life.

Dante’s pulse picked up a little as his exceptionally pretty, wrestler-built graphic designer friend tentatively held his gaze before finally turning back to the photo in his hand. Dante let out a silent breath, his skin feeling a little heated under his polo. He and Darius had known each other for years, but it was only lately that Dante had been asking himself what those sweet, black-cherry lips might taste like. Now, in this moment, the urge seemed almost irresistible. He decided to walk away for the moment. Patting Darius’s compact, bulky shoulder for a second, enjoying the brief sensation of warm, solid flesh through the thin heather tee, Dante headed back to close the heavy front door against the mild early spring evening, calling out, “So what do you guys think?” to the others as he went.

Dmitry was at the huge picture window taking up most of the far wall, his expression stone-faced as he stared out at the sun setting over the snow-capped mountains, bathing the steeply rolling forests between with a warm reddish glow. “The view’s not bad, at least,” he said grudgingly, as though it was the most that could be said about the otherwise dire and barely tolerable accommodations.

“Shut up, Grunk,” the other three said in unison, all of them chuckling. Dmitry snorted but couldn’t hide a tiny, sunset-red smile. The name traced back to some girl in high school who’d soured on Dmitry after making cow eyes at him to no avail for a whole semester; she’d gifted him with the nickname, a portmanteau of “grumpy” and “hunk,” and it had immediately stuck. It certainly fit him: he was exceptionally tall, calmly arrogant, icily good-looking, and he worked out his aggressions at the gym like clockwork. It seemed he had a lot of aggressions, which he addressed very thoroughly with lots of reps that yielded a slow-growing profusion of steel-hard muscle. The other three loved teasing him with the moniker, and Dante was convinced that Dmitry sometimes exaggerated his gruffness just to give them random opportunities to do so.

The only other nickname among the four of them was “the four Ds” for the whole group, with which Seth had gifted them via text a few weeks after Seth, Dante, Darius, and Dmitry had met sharing a row in a massive intro lecture their first year in college. When Dante had objected, quite reasonably, that Seth didn’t meet the “D” prerequisite for such a club, Seth had just sent a winky face. They’d all laughed (or lol’ed). Then came the drunken night a few months later where they’d all taken a long whiz out behind the DQ, and Seth had had a chance to prove the old adage that tall lanky guys had it best…

The “D” in question was in the living room area, looking around at the comfortable-looking, deep-set sofa and armchairs angled to face both the fireplace and the big window. He was nodding. “I like it,” Seth said. “If I didn’t have to commute to the hospital I’d live here. Warmer than I expected, though,” he added stagily, before whipping off the heavy university football shirt he’d been wearing and tossing it dramatically over the back of the sofa.

Any other time Dante would have rolled his eyes, but he was already feeling a little flushed, and Seth’s defined, sinewy torso with its long, firm, lightly marked abs seemed to amplify his heated arousal. Dante glanced at Darius, who seemed to be feeling the same. As if on a dare, they pulled off their shirts together like they had been practicing for some sort of Olympic synchronized disrobing meet, each expertly lofting their shirts onto the sofa back next to Seth’s.

Then they were all looking at Dmitry, who was eyeing them coldly—though something about the tinge of his pale skin around the neck told Dante he wasn’t any less affected by this hothouse mood of growing arousal than the rest of them. “C’mon, Grunk,” Seth urged, grinning widely at him as he slowly slid a hand up his belly in provocation.

Dante, for his part, had found his eyes dropping to Dmitry’s new-looking jeans, which seemed to be straining at the zipper. He licked his lips automatically. Dmitry, as they all knew from the DQ incident, was the only one of them who had “D” man Seth well beat in the phat cock department, though at times the surly fucker seemed to view his generously proportioned wang almost as a burden and an inconvenience. Sure enough, after looking wordlessly between them for a heated moment, he grimaced and angrily reached into his pants to straighten out his burgeoning erection.

I guess we’re all getting turned on, Dante thought. What the hell is up with that? The situation made him curious, but the prickle of anticipation he was feeling erased any impulse other than a need to go with the flow. They were all in the living area now between the sofa and the chairs, as if they’d drawn closer to each other without realizing it.

Dmitry abruptly gave them a sardonic smile and grunted, “Fine.” He began undoing his short-sleeved solid-burgundy button-down, to cheers of “Do it!” from Seth and “Yeah, nice” from Dante as a sliver of chiseled, pink muscle was increasingly revealed downward—first collarbone, then smooth, hard-walled cleavage, then rippling, stone-hard abs, finally punctuated by the head and a couple of inches of wide, stiff cock nosing past his waistband. Darius, maybe a little overwhelmed, took Dante’s hand as they watched, and Dante clasped it tightly, taking Seth’s for good measure on the other side. Once it was fully open Dmitry whipped off the shirt and threw it aside, blasting them with the close-up sight of a hard, muscle-packed torso so perfectly sculpted Adonis would have killed a satyr for it.

“Fuck!” Dante blurted out. He looked between his friends guiltily. “Jesus, when did you all get so hot? I’m hard as a fucking rock here,” he admitted. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his jaw by his ear before dropping onto his bare shoulder.

“Me too,” Darius said quietly, squeezing Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at him, and Darius added sheepishly, “I have been since we got here.”

“Damn right, we need to take the edge off,” Seth said, caressing Dante’s other wrist with his thumb. “Hey, let’s have a circle jerk!”

“What?” Dmitry said flatly. He made as if to step back, but before he could Seth reached into Dmitry’s pants and grabbed the larger man’s oversized wang. Dmitry froze, not quite suppressing a gasp.

“Uh, Seth, bro, I—” Dante started to say, as Darius’s hand squeezed his tighter—in alarm or anticipation, Dante wasn’t sure.

Seth reached over with his free hand and deftly undid Dante’s waistband button, sliding his zipper down before he knew it and letting out his extra-wide, flat-headed five-inch cannon. It was in Seth’s firm grasp before Dante could even draw another breath. “Commando, I like it,” Seth said. “C’mon, you guys do mine.”

Dante didn’t understand why he was feeling this overheated and aroused, or how his inhibitions and the usual barriers between them had suddenly melted away, but now that the circle jerk was already in progress and he was feeling the raw pleasure of Seth’s grip around his hard, sensitive prick it seemed almost perverse to object.

Sharing a quick glance with Dmitry, Dante reached out and popped the top fastener on Seth’s beat-up, knee-sprung 501s, then, each of them grabbed a side and pulled the button fly apart with a satisfying bup-bup-bup-bup. Behind, Dante’s very hard log of a cock was straining and flexing against tringle patterned boxer briefs. Dante and Dmitry pulled these down too, a little more awkwardly, and the jeans and briefs both slid down a little off Seth’s ass exposing a very hard, very straight, two-finger-thick erection only a couple inches shy of Dmitry’s raging 12-inch monster.

“Damn, Seth,” Dante said. He reached to take the beautiful succulent-looking cock in his hand, but Dmitry got their first, boldly gripping the mighty erection as if he were entitled to it. Dante smiled—there was plenty of room for a second stroker, fortunately. He wrapped his hand ceremoniously around Seth’s big prick and squeezed lightly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Seth said, returning the favor on Dante’s blunter prick as he looked across at Darius with a grin.

Dante looked over and huffed a laugh. Darius looked up at him and Dmitry with the most sheepish “come and get it” look he’d ever seen. Apparently, while he and Dmitry had been working on Seth, the shorter, darker-skinned stud had quietly undone his own chinos with his free hand and pulled down the fly, letting out his own very adamant erection.

Dante found himself gaping a little, surprised underneath his spiking, sweat-making arousal. At the DQ piss-off, Darius hadn’t seemed that endowed, but evidently he was a grower: though narrower than Dante’s his hard-on was substantially longer, more than halfway between Dante’s flat, uncut five-inch torpedo and Seth’s flat, neatly circumcised ten.

Darius was looking at him as though waiting for a reaction, as if there could be a better one than the bucking of his own cock in Seth’s slowly stroking fist (Dante realized with his flickering awareness that he and Dmitry were stroking too, rhythmically caressing Seth’s substantial erection). “It’s as hot as the rest of you,” Dante told Darius, who beamed back at him. Again moving together they reached for each other’s cocks, Seth pushing down making room for Darius to grip Dante around the head, while Dmitry grasped Darius’s longer, thinner tool.

At the same time, Darius took a spot on Dmitry’s enormous tool and squeezed, gasping at how much of his hand it filled.

“Hey! Not so hard!” Dmitry barked suddenly.

Startled, Darius jerked back, still gripping Dmitry’s cock so tight he wrenched it out of Seth’s hand—and completely off of Dmitry’s body!

Darius stared at the rock-hard, pulsing 12-inch cock in his fist and let out an “Ack!” before spasmodically letting go of the tool. It hit the handmade throw rug under their feet with a thud.

“Ow!” Dmitry exclaimed when it hit. He turned angrily on Darius. “You fucker, what did you do?”

Dante was, if anything, more aroused than ever, flooded with a craving for cock and unable to think straight, the air around him seeming thick and stultifying, filled with its own pleasure. The four of them went on stroking each other’s very hard tools as if that were more important than anything—except for Dmitry’s, of course, which lay twitching needily on the floor between them, like a sacrifice at the center of a demonic circle.

“Duude,” Dante said, looking up at his too-handsome, too-perfectly muscled friend in awe. “Dude, your dick comes off?!”

“No!” Dmitry said. To Darius he added, “Put—put it back!”

Darius, still gripping Dante’s leaking, eager prick, bent down and tentatively picked up the fever-hot, throbbing tool.

They stared at it. “Wait,” Seth said. “Wait. He said ‘ow.’” He turned to Dmitry. “You said ‘ow’ when it hit. You can… still feel it?”

Dmitry stared at the pulsing footlong hard-on in Darius’s hand as he held it up for them to see. Dmitry nodded, looking stunned.

“Darius,” Dante said urgently. “You have to try…” He didn’t finish, but left his mouth a little open, his tongue wiggling slightly—enough to suggest what he wanted Darius to try.

“Wait!” Dmitry warned, glaring at Dante. Darius, however, wide-eyed and flushed with warm, overwhelming need like the rest of them, could not resist. He drew the uncut monster cock up to his mouth and slid it between his lips. Dmitry lifted his chin and moaned loudly. Darius shivered and started full-on fellatio, increasing Dmitry’s groans and grunts of pleasure exponentially.

Dante suddenly knew he had to taste Darius’s cock—the cock he held in his hands. This was his chance. Tightening his grip, with quick pull and jerk he tried mimicking Darius’s actions from before. To his amazement, Darius’s quivering erection snapped free of his groin with a soft pop, and Dante had it in his hand—and then it was in his mouth, and Darius was grunting and moaning around the giant cock he was expertly fellating.

Dmitry, panting and grunting, glared at Darius and then at Dante. Before Dante realized what was happening, Dmitry reached over and shoved Darius’s and Seth’s hands aside, then angrily pulled Dante’s blunt erection with a yank. Dante, expecting a stab of pain at the separation, was shocked at how good it felt—not only was his cock pulling free almost like a mini-orgasm, but it felt deeply, intoxicatingly amazing for his cock to be free of his body, like a new kind of euphoric freedom no man had ever before experienced. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

He had just enough time to register and understand this carnal epiphany before Dmitry started licking and mouthing the head and upper shaft of Dmitry’s cock like it was a big ice cream cone he was teaching a lesson. Dante let out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure and doubled down on the blow-job he was giving Darius’s hard, pre-spitting cock as though it were Dmitry’s, as the two of them stared each other down.

“I guess I’m left to take care of myself,” Seth said with a grin. He did not sound even a little disappointed at the prospect of sucking himself off, Dante thought, amused. Experimentally, Seth gripped himself with both hands and pulled, twisting his prick very slightly. It came off in his hands with a minimum of effort. “Holy fuck,” Seth said, delighted. Adjusting his grip on his flat, middle-flaring ten-inch wang, he started going to town on it, sucking his detached cock with the relish of a fellatio connoisseur. It was hot just to watch, and as he looked around the circle he realized there was a feedback loop of pleasure leaping through them as they sucked, feeling not only the heady pleasure of blowing and being blown but an increasingly strong taste of everyone else’s two-layered pleasure as well, building up between them.

Dante was already close, and watching the others as they passionately blew the crazily aroused detached cocks in their hands drove him to the edge. The others were experiencing the same need to climax, and then suddenly it all burst free and they were cumming hard, spurt after spurt, and the overlapping sensations made it feel like he was cumming into Dmitry’s mouth and his own, and Darius’s and Seth’s, too.

The climax almost broke him, and as his knees weakened he threw his arm around Darius’s thick shoulders, relying on his sturdy strength. Panting hard, with his other hand he lowered Darius’s still-hard prick, not sure what to do with his.

He stared across at Seth, looking sweaty and very self-satisfied (literally, Dante thought), then at Dmitry, who seemed… defiant? Holding Dante’s gaze, he very deliberately lowered Dante’s wide and stubby, still-erect prick and shoved it against his own groin, lifting his boxer-briefs up to hold it in place. “Mine now,” he said, taunting.

Then they both gasped. Dante could still feel his cock, but now in a more ghostly way… like it was still a part of his being but belonged to someone else. Dmitry looked down quickly in dismay. “Shit, I can feel it, it merged into me,” he said. He looked up at Dante plaintively, all trace of his attitude erased. “Dante, I—” he started.

Dante cut him off with a smile, his heart still pounding from the rush of orgasm. “It’s okay,” he said, oddly unconcerned at the idea of his cock not being in his own crotch. “I’m okay.” Besides, he was pretty sure their cocks were still removable, though they’d have to see whether that was true only here at the cabin, or just in general.

“Let me try,” Seth said, looking at Darius, then Dante, his eyes falling to the long, slightly darker erection in Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at Darius, who shrugged, still a bit overwhelmed. Dante turned and handed Darius’s long, delicious, cum-slicked cock to Seth, who pushed it into his groin and held it a few seconds.

“Whoa,” Darius said suddenly.

Seth looked up at Darius, eyes wide and smiling. “Fuck, that feels good,” he said. He started stroking Darius’s slick cock, and he and Darius both whimpered in pleasure.

Fuck, Dante was going to need to cum again soon. He looked at Darius. “I want to see that big giant cock on you,” he admitted.

Darius looked at Dante, then at Dmitry. The latter was back to his usual arch expression. “This one’s mine now,” he said, pointing at Dante’s hard cock in his briefs.

“Okay then.” Darius did as Seth had, pushing the too-huge cock into his crotch, and then he and Dmitry both sighed. Darius started stroking the big, bobbing erection lightly, watching Dmitry’s pleasure while feeling it himself.

“I guess this one’s yours,” Seth said cheerily, offering Dante his own 10-inch beauty.

Dante took it, but oddly he wasn’t in any hurry to re-encumber his crotch—something in him liked the current set-up, sharing his blunt 5-incher with big muscley Dmitry this way. Instead, he looked over at Darius. He’d had a radical idea and wanted to act on it before he was thinking straight again. “Open wide,” he said.

Darius grinned and complied, no doubt figuring he was about to help Seth experience a disconnected blow job like they all had. His eyes widened comically as Dante shoved the big cock into his gaping maw base-first, holding it in place against the back of his mouth. A moment later Seth sucked in a breath, and Darius closed his eyes as he closed his lips around his new mouthcock and smiled.

Dante around looked at the others, who were staring at Darius with amazement. “C’mon,” he told them teasingly. “We shouldn’t let it get cold.” Not that there was any chance of that particular cock being bereft in any way for very long.

They all made out and stroked each other for a raw, sultry hour as the sky filled slowly with stars outside the picture window. Finally they came all over again, their orgasms overlapping even more than before. As they crumpled onto the big couch in a lax, still-aroused satiation, legs and arms atop each other in a flaccid heap, Dante made a mental note to make sure these trips to the cabin of suspicious arousal became a regular monthly event for the four Ds… and maybe a few equally horny friends who might want to join in as well.

Dante flinched as Enrique, his younger brother who was visiting for a week, burst into the decent-sized, white- and aqua-tiled bathroom in Dante’s apartment. The 22-year-old had his hand up a foot in front of his face in a comical and not entirely effective effort to obscure the bathtub tableau of his older sibling and his cute muscley boyfriend showering together behind the clear sliding glass.

“Okay, look, big bro, I know I promised not come in while you two are… you know, but you’ve been in here for half an hour, man, I really need to brush my teeth before bed and—holy shit what happened to your dick?!”

Dante barely had time to register the utterly horrified expression on his brother’s face as he gaped at Dante’s nether regions—and, specifically, how his meat and potatoes seemed to be, well, devoid of any meat—before he was gone, leaving the door open and an Enrique-shaped hole in the steam.

Dante gaped at where his brother had been standing, then turned to Darius and smiled lopsidedly at him. “Guess I’d better tell him after all, huh?” Dante said, reaching behind him to shut off the steamy spray.

Darius hummed in agreement around the hefty, red-tinged hardon emerging incongruously from very kiss-bruised lips and reluctantly slid the glass door aside, reaching for a couple of thirsty blue towels hanging from a nearby rack and handing one to Dante. Said mouth equipment, of course, looked nothing like the immense pink 12-inch tool thrusting eagerly up from his groin, or the hefty brown scrotum pulled up tight and eager just below that.

Darius stepped out of the shower onto the air-warmed light-blue bath mat and the two of them started drying off, slowly and consciously easing back from their overlapping sense of intense arousal. Darius in particular was taking a while to come down, his back turned away from the lanky engineer who flicked his switch more or less on sight. They might have waited until they came again, but the four of them were still working on synchronizing their orgasms, especially during any second rounds that might crop up, so… finishing everyone off might take a while.

Their second climax of the night could wait until they’d sorted Enrique out. Dante just hoped he understood.

“I don’t understand,” Enrique said obstinately.

They were in the living room, the two older boys now properly dressed in shorts and tee shirts. Dante and Darius were on the couch; Enrique was pacing.

Dante glanced over at the very pretty longtime crush turned newly minted boyfriend seated next to him, looking scrumptious in a borrowed thin white tee that was slightly too small for his bulky, extremely cut wrestler’s physique. Darius had texted the others immediately after the shower and helped everyone calm down enough for Darius’s mouthcock to soften, along with the rest of their randy tools; even flaccid, though, the oral wang still took up a fair amount of space in Darius’s mouth. Because Dante had shoved it in root first on top of Darius’s tongue he had to fit both in there, and when it was soft his thick mouth-tool curled up on top of his tongue like a dog taking a nap on its comfy pillow. (Dante suspected that the anatomical adjustments that had retrofitted Seth’s cock as an innate and organic part of his anatomy had introduced a bit of extra interior volume to Darius’s mouth along the way to make everything work, though it was difficult to tell for sure from the outside.)

Bottom line, it was generally pretty tough for Darius to talk, soft or hard. Eating was easier than talking, fortunately, assuming he was flaccid, and certain foods were a lot of fun.

Darius caught Dante’s look and shrugged, passing the ball back to Dante. Dante nodded grimly. He was going to have to figure out how to get through to get through to Enrique, one way or another.

He let out a breath and took a moment examining his brother, as though to figure him out. The two of them sure looked a lot alike—fit but not buff, not too tall, able to wear anything and look good in it; dark eyebrows, sly-smiling, attractive in a “beautiful dreamer” sort of way. But their temperaments were not as well aligned. Their capacities were similar—his younger brother was flying through his civil engineering program with honors, just as Dante had done with electrical engineering four years earlier—but Dante knew “smart” didn’t necessarily mean “adaptable.”

“Kiko—” he began, keeping his tone level and nonconforantional.

“I don’t get it,” Enrique broke in, cutting him off. He stopped pacing and rounded on him. “How can cousin Santino’s cabin do…” He gestured agitatedly at Dante’s groin. “…that to you?”

“I don’t think it was the cabin,” Dante explained patiently. “Cousin Santino… There were a lot of weird artifacts from all these ancient cultures up there, just sitting around on the mantel, the shelves—”

“Weird artifacts?” Enrique repeated incredulously.

“Monkeys with giant dicks, stuff like that,” Dante said. “Collections. Weird mystical shit.”

Darius nodded in silent corroboration.

Enrique stood stock still in the sparse, ecru-themed living room, gaping at them incredulously. A hint of the curry Dante was slow-cooking on the stove around the corner in the kitchen in case they got hungry after the talk wafted lazily around them. “And so, what? You go up there with your three best buds and you pick up on this creepy, probably cursed artifact magic shit that’s just in the air in there for some reason because of monkey dicks or whatever. And you just start snapping each other’s junk off?”

Dante smiled. It was actually a fairly apt summary of that weekend’s events. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“And you traded them around?” Enrique said, as if this were the most impossible aspect of the whole story. “Like, what, preteen girls swapping scrunchies or something?”

Dante laughed. “Of course!” he said. “That was the best part.”

Enrique gaped at him. “The hell?!” he said. “Jamming each other’s hard-ons into your crotches and keeping them was the best part?”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine it turning out any other way,” Dante confirmed, still grinning. He looked at Darius, who nodded his agreement, and then back up at Enrique. “Four guys? Detachable dicks? I guarantee you. Every time.”

As he spoke Darius typed something in his phone and showed it to Dante. “Oh, yeah,” Dante said, checking the screen. “We were also feeling really super horny the whole time we were up there. The artifacts probably played off of that and intensified the magic.”

Enrique moved around the big, heavy coffee table and sat on it, facing Dante. “But—how did you end up without a dick?” he asked plaintively. “I’d, like, die without my hardware, bro.”

Dante held his gaze, focusing on what he wanted to say. “This is the part you’re not getting,” he said. “I still have a dick, Kiko. It’s just… attached to someone else at the moment. No biggie.”

Enrique’s expression was completely flat. “‘No biggie,’” he drawled.

“No biggie,” Dante insisted. “I still feel it, just like always. Well, basically.”

“‘Basically,’” Enrique repeated again. He was obviously still skeptical anyone might want to do such a thing—least of all his very passionate, if relentlessly monandrous, older brother. His eyes narrowed. “Who has it, anyway?” he asked. “Because that—” He pointed to Darius’s well-packed crotch. “—is not yours, big bro.”

Dante suppressed a smirk, wondering when Enrique had made a detailed enough study of Dante’s bits to recognize it on sight. Maybe he just didn’t see the family resemblance. “You remember my friend Dmitry?” he said. “I know you met him a few times when you were up at my college.”

Enrique stared. “Arrogant blond asshole? Works out a lot?” Dante nodded. Enrique’s eyes bugged. “That’s who has your dick?!”

“You don’t get it,” Dante said calmly. “It’s like… the four of us, we stimulate each other. When Seth sucks off Dmitry, he’s sucking my cock, but Dmitry and I both get off.”

Enrique looked uncertain. “For real?” he said. He scrunched his nose as if trying to imagine orgasming from someone else’s sex act in some other place.

“Okay, so picture that,” Dante continued doggedly. “Meanwhile, Seth is jerking himself off, right? While he sucks Dmitry? Except—” Dante jerked his thumb at his wrestler-hunk bf. “—Seth has Darius’s cock in his groin, all hard and ready for Seth’s eager hand.”

Enrique glanced at Darius, who nodded in confirmation.

“Seth and Darius both feel that orgasm,” Dante finished. “It’s amazing, bro. We’re all aroused, all riding the edge together, and we’re overlapping. Thrill on top of thrill. Blurring and blending. You feel your pleasure and someone else’s pleasure.”

Enrique frowned, still resisting Dante’s pitch. “But—someone else has your dick, bro,” he said stubbornly. “You could be anywhere and they could just start using it, and—”

He stopped, flummoxed, when Dante beamed at him, wiggling his brows. “Yeah, bro, exactly,” Dante said. “The other day? I was just sitting right here eating tacos, and Dmitry started wanking, all aggressive and sudden-like. Really going to town on it, you know? And then I was blowing my load, bro, all over his belly. So good. So fucking good. Surprise! Free orgasm, plus, no mess!”

Enrique’s eyes widened suddenly again, this time in outrage. “Wait! I was here for that!”

Dante winked. “I know.”

“Bro! Bro!” he gasped. “I just—I thought you just really, really liked those tacos!”

Darius barked a laugh, and Enrique turned on him. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s totally funny,” Dante countered, also chuckling. “You want to know what we were doing when you barged in on us in the shower?”

“No!”

“I was sucking Darius’s mouthboner,” Dante confided relentlessly in a loud whisper. “Which is really Seth’s dick. And at the same time—”

“Wait. Mouth… boner?” Enrique looked queasy and aroused at the same time.

Darius nodded, tapping his cheek. “So, picture this. Up at the cabin. We were ‘trading scrunchies,’ like you said. And Seth handed me his fat ten-incher,” Dante explained. “But instead of jamming the thing in my own crotch, I had a wild thought and was like, ‘Why don’t I try jamming it end-first into Darius’s mouth?’ Just to see if it would take, you feel me?” He smiled at his extra-pretty, muscle-hunk boyfriend. “And… fuck, it took.”

“The hell…?” Enrique breathed. Dante could almost see the gears turning. “Wait. So, let me get this straight. Your muscle-boy Darius here has a cock that gets hard in his mouth, which… you suck off while you’re making out, I guess?” He looked between Dante and Darius, shifting awkwardly on the coffee table like he didn’t want to admit he found that hot. “Explains why your showers take so long,” he groused. “And that’s this guy Seth’s cock? He’s your tall, redheaded nurse friend, right?”

“Right.”

Enrique’s dark brows pulled together, glancing at Darius. “And you have…? Also?” he asked, nodding his chin at Darius’s crotch, which, even sitting down, looked like a serious package. Darius smiled and nodded. “So if it was just the four of you,” he mused to himself, running the calculations in his head, “that means that that gigantic tool I saw down there before, in the shower, must belong to…” He glanced at Dante cautiously. “…that fuckhole Dmitry?”

Dante golf-clapped his approval.

Enrique rolled his eyes. “Look, this is too crazy,” he said. “I’m a ‘see it and know it’ kind of guy. I’m not going to be able to wrap my head around this until I actually experience it happening. You got me?”

Dante shrugged. “We’re going up this weekend,” he said. “Darius loves the mouthcock, no joke, but even working from home he still has to make a client design presentation for his ad agency every once in a while, and… there’s one next week.” He considered his brother. How sexually experienced was he these days? How would he react to the carnal undertow of the atmosphere up there? Dante thought he definitely looked turned on from all the talk of cocks and cum, but in the mood he was in right now he wouldn’t ever admit it. “You’re welcome to join us,” he said. “Mi casa es tu casa, as the anglos say.”

Enrique mulled this over. “Maybe…” he said distractedly, his mind clearly full of male anatomy and equipment.

Dante smirked, unable to resist goading such an easy target. “Come on, what do you say?” he teased. “Want to swap big, messy hard-ons with your big bro?”

Enrique leaped up in alarm, jabbing a finger at Dante. “No,” he said firmly. There was a definite tent in his cutoffs, but no one called him out on it. “No. I’m coming, but—I mean, I’ll go on the trip, but—” Flustered, he turned and stormed off in the direction of the guest room, leaving Dante and Darius to smirk at each other.

Dante grabbed his heavy hunk of a lover and fell back on the couch, pulling Darius on top of him with an inarticulate squawk. “Now,” Dante said, sliding his hands over the cotton straining across that amazing V-shaped back, “where the hell were we?”

Seth had a late shift on Friday, so it was agreed everyone would drive up early on Saturday. Enrique was gone Friday night. The next morning he appeared next to Dante’s dew-covered black SUV with a friend from his engineering program, Evan, and a dangerous look that dared Dante and Darius to say a damn word about it. Enrique, for his part, was wearing his most flattering black tee shirt, his lucky cargo pants, and sexy black work boots. Dante and Darius exchanged a knowing look but didn’t offer any commentary—yet.

Evan was tall and lean, with a swimmer’s build shown off fairly well by his black polo and dark jeans. He had short, well-trimmed brown hair that leaned toward mahogany in the light, bright green eyes, and full lips that seemed to twitch habitually at the corners, as though he was always reacting to what was going on around him. His awed expression and the way he kept glancing down at first Darius’s very obviously packed nether region in his jeans, then at Dante’s smoother crotch area, let Dante and Darius know that the new recruit had been fully briefed on everything Enrique had learned and was eager to find out how much of it was true.

Dante found Enrique having been curious enough about the cabin’s properties to bring a friend to witness and/or experiment with vastly amusing. He aimed a saucy wink at his brother, just to get a reaction. As expected, Enrique bristled, and his hostile glare kicked up a notch or three. Dante barely suppressed a chuckle as they finished loading the SUV with gear and supplies. Once they were set they all got into the car, clacked the doors closed, and got the party rolling.

Seth and Dmitry were already at the cabin when they arrived, making out aggressively in the living room. “Very dangerous,” Dante chided them with a smile as his party dropped their bags and coolers near the door next to the others’. “No fair distracting people when they’re driving.” He felt his skin heating with incipient arousal, and glancing over at Darius he saw his lover was smiling around the beginnings of a hardon. Evan stared at the protruding glans with fascination, boldly adjusting his own substantial bulge as he did so. Enrique was looking around at the interior of the cabin with mistrust, though the tent in his cargo pants revealed he was already rock hard.

Dante caught Dmitry’s ice-blue gaze and saw the mischievous intent there. Seth looked no more penitent. “Fuckers,” Dante laughed. He glanced around the group. “You guys want to eat first?” he asked, adding with a shrug, “We got all weekend.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starved,” Seth said. He and Dmitry found the coolers and bags of groceries and shifted them into the kitchen.

Dante noticed that Darius was watching him with a single eyebrow raised. He was now fully hard, as they all were, even newbie Evan, and several inches of fat, steel-hard shaft were pushing past his lips. Not exactly ideal for ham and eggs, he thought wryly. His footlong downstairs cock was just as spectacularly obvious, making an upward-reaching bulge in his pants that continued under his shirt.

Dante smirked and raised a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, looking around. On their earlier trip he had spotted something—ah, there it was. While Seth and Dmitry clanged pots and pans in the open kitchen and traded teasing remarks, Dante trotted across the living room and retrieved a shallow, glazed terracotta bowl he’d randomly spotted before, nestling half-hidden on a lower shelf behind the potted fig trees. The reddish exterior surface was decorated with dozens of detached pricks of all shapes, sizes, and states of arousal, which was what had made him think of the dish. The interior surface was a curved expanse of smooth, glossy black, immaculate and uncracked despite the kylix’s obvious immense age. As he rested it in his hands it felt warm, and he almost fancied he felt a slight buzz to it, like it was saturated with the energies of arousal and pleasure, just like everything else here.

He brought the bowl back to the seating area in the living room and set it on the coffee table, and the other three drifted over. “Seth and Dmitry, you guys too,” he called.

Seth appeared, followed by his blond compatriot. “Better be quick, the pancakes are cooking,” Seth said.

Dante gestured at the cock-decorated bowl they were all now standing around. “Let’s start fresh,” he told them. “Everyone’s junk in the bowl. You too, Dmitry,” he added, raising a preemptive finger at the tall, grumpy hunk.

Dmitry looked like he had, in fact, been about to say “no.” Not for no reason: he had very obviously preferred Dante’s wide, stubby uncut five-inch torpedo to his own 12-inch monstrosity. Dante held his gaze, and after a moment Dmitry gave a curt “Fine” and turned to Seth. “You do it. I don’t trust him not to bruise it.”

Seth huffed a laugh. “His own cock?” he said, but they dutifully began undoing each other’s flies.

Dante turned to Darius with deep affection and bottomless lust, which he saw mirrored in his old friend’s warm brown eyes. “Shall I?” Dante asked. Evan and Enrique were watching raptly. They were like audience members giving all their attention to a magician’s illusion, but for different reasons—one wanted to enjoy it and the other was trying to spot the trick.

Darius nodded, eyes dancing. Dante grabbed the steel-hard prick protruding from Darius’s sweet lips and, with a now familiar gesture, twisted slightly counterclockwise and yanked. Seth’s ruddy, ten-inch pole came out easily, just as though Darius had been sucking on the base like a lollipop. From behind him he heard Seth give a soft moan—even as Dante himself felt hands around his own cock, then a tug of separation as his hard tool was detached from Dmitry’s groin.

Not wanting to push things toward sex just yet he set Seth’s red-tinged cock in the bowl, followed quickly by his own blunt tool. Darius’s larger, sepia-brown one, which Seth had been carrying, was dropped in next to it. “This feels weird,” Dmitry said, rubbing his cockless crotch through his jeans as he and Seth hurried back to salvage the pancakes.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise,” Dante called as he unzipped Darius’s pants and grasped Dmitry’s enormous, footlong battering ram.

“He didn’t say it felt bad,” Seth called back, laughing.

Dante snorted and finished removing Dmitry’s power tool, setting it in the bowl. “You good?” he asked Darius.

Darius worked his jaw back and forth and grinned. “So good,” he said. “Though… I already miss it,” he admitted.

Dante gave his lover’s mouth a heated look. “Me too,” he said, his voice sounding husky in his ears. He turned briskly to his brother, reaching for his pants in a way he knew would provoke a reaction. “Your turn!” he chirped.

Enrique stepped back, alarmed. “No way!” Evan looked between them, looking like he wanted a bag of popcorn.

Dante put his fists on his hips in a very camp pose. “Now, little brother,” he said. “Either you’re a part of this, or you can toddle on back to the city and forget all about it.”

Evan immediately began bustling at his own waistband. Enrique turned on him in irritation. “I’ll do it,” he barked. They moved to face each other, and Enrique carefully undid the fly of Evan’s jeans. Evan, more tentatively, did the same. Dante watched them, wondering how far the connection between them had gotten before today. Were they friends with a mutual crush, or had they fumbled around on study dates? Felt each other up at the malt shop? He snorted inwardly. Either way, the escalated levels of arousal everyone seemed to experience up here would certainly mark a new chapter between them from this point forward.

Comically, they both turned at exactly the same time to look at Dante for instructions. He kept back his smile and said, “Twist left, then pull gently. Easy peasy.”

Doubtfully they did as they were told. Enrique grunted at the feel of Evan’s warm grasp, and Evan made a brief keening sound in the back of his throat that made Dante very curious to discover what other kinds of noises he made while he was getting off.

Then, they were staring in almost reverent astonishment as they held up each other’s flexing, leaking, incredibly hard erections. “Holy shit!” Enrique cursed, staring at his own hard prick in Evan’s tanned fingers. Evan, for his part, seemed to be at a loss for words.

Dante cleared his throat, and they seemed to recollect themselves. Quickly, they turned to place them gently in what was now a pile of throbbing, happy erections. Dante shivered as he felt his own prick being buried under the weight of Enrique’s and Evan’s tools. Enrique’s boner, as expected, was almost exactly like his own but an inch or so longer. Evan’s 9-incher, paler but veiny enough it almost had a lavender cast to the hard flesh, was most notable in the twenty-degree kink halfway up, making it look not unlike a boomerang. Evan caught him looking and smiled sheepishly, as though he were thinking, Yeah, I wonder what it would feel like up my ass, too.

Dante was thinking Evan might just get a unique opportunity to find out when his stomach growled. “Soup’s on!” Seth yelled. Dante led them back to the dining area, and they all sat down to eat. The increased arousal endemic to the cabin’s atmosphere seemed to have made them extra ravenous, too, and they fell in on Seth and Dmitry’s eggs, pancakes, and bacon with abandon.

For a while they just ate, but it wasn’t long before Evan started asking a string of eager questions. Did Dmitry really prefer having a stubby cock? The surly programmer’s icy blue glare somehow communicated that he had, very much, but he did not elaborate.

What was it like having a mouthcock? Darius was more forthcoming on this point, with lots of anecdotes (his relating the accidental discovery that spicy curry felt so good on his sensitive flaccid mouthcock it was like cumming while he was soft got them all laughing), though the bottom line seemed to be that he’d have to experience it for himself to really know.

Were there any side effects? Seth talked about the overlapping orgasms having different “flavors” because they came from different people; no one mentioned the most obvious impact, that they were hornier all the time and felt sexier, too. Dante had been afraid to check the mirror and find out whether his self-perception as more defined and more attractive was anything real (the cabin effect was insatiable and wanted him to have more sex?) or if it was all in his head. Darius sure looked buffer and harder, but he’d been working out like a fiend ever since the first visit. He said he wanted to look good for Dante, which had made Dante blush and spew precum at the same time.

“This is so amazing,” Evan gushed. Enrique had been watching him silently, and Dante guessed he was slightly unnerved by Evan’s quizzing of the group and how the questions jibed with ones he’d been more reluctant to ask. “I love it,” the newbie went on excitedly. “I love it! I can feel my dick throbbing in that bowl, nestling against everyone else’s. It’s like—it’s like—” Before he could say what it was like, something else seemed to break into his train of consciousness. “Hey! I just realized. Is it only dicks? Have you guys tried pulling off anything else?” He looked around expectantly.

Darius lifted his brows, halting a forkful of short stack. “Like what?”

Evan shrugged expressively. “I dunno. Arms? Heads?”

There was a moment’s silence as the other men all stared at him, dumbfounded. “You want me to twist off your head?” Dmitry asked silkily, after a beat. “I can do that for you, if you like.”

Evan obviously didn’t buy Dmitry’s tough-guy alpha act and grinned instead. “Okay!”

Dmitry smiled wider, like a puma spotting a tasty-looking hunter. “Deal.”

Dante chuckled and rose from the table, drifting toward the living room. The others continued eating. Evan kept asking yet more questions, and the others related their own experiences over the very eventful last two weeks. Dante, meanwhile, felt an unsettling need to check on the shallow ancient kylix full of thrumming, aroused cocks setting pertly on the low coffee table. Something had felt… odd as he ate, nudging at the back of his brain, and now he could see why.

“Guys,” he called sharply, and the others must have heard the edge of alarm in his voice because they all immediately looked over with concern.

“What’s up, babe?” Darius said. The look on his excessively pretty face suggested he already had an inkling of what was off. Maybe he’d been feeling it like Dante had, without quite making sense of what the sensations meant.

Dante looked back at his friends. “Guys,” he announced, “there’s more than six cocks in here.” He smiled nervously. “They’re… multiplying.”

Dante scanned the faces at the table gaping back at him. Darius, his thick-muscled pretty-boy lover, looked calm and alert, ready to face whatever came next. Dante knew that he could count on Darius no matter what, but his solid, dependable boyfriend wasn’t one to take the lead.

Seth, their lanky, redheaded nurse friend, seemed both shocked and intrigued by the new development, like an explorer in an ancient temple unearthing a gateway not marked on any plans. Going by the light in his eyes, Dante guessed he was already mapping out possibilities as he waited for more info. Next to him was Dmitry, his bristly, blond, steel-physiqued lover—or, well, co-participant in angry, extra-satisfying sex, anyway. Dante wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with them. “Grunk,” as he was sometimes known (short for “grumpy hunk”), was staring daggers at Dante, like all of this was Dante’s fault. Fortunately, Dante already knew that Dmitry’s offensive demeanor was largely a defensive wall and wasn’t to be taken personally.

On the other end of the dining room table were the two newcomers. Enrique, his kind of intense brother, looked wary and resentful, like he’d been dragged into this instead of showing up that morning and demanding to be included, plus one and everything. Said add-on, Enrique’s tall, lean, cover-boy buddy and possible FWB from his civil engineering program, was presently sporting a wide-eyed, lopsided grin like he might just be getting a puppy for Christmas. Evan was the only member of the group Dante hadn’t known for years, and he didn’t enjoy having to rely on Enrique’s trust in him in lieu of the kind of direct, experience-driven understanding he had with the others.

Interestingly, for all the diversity in their reactions and core personalities, the five of them all had one thing in common: all of the others were rooted in their chairs, silently leery of joining Dante at the threshold of this new, inexplicable hoodoo of the phallic variety. All of them were aware that they didn’t really know what was going on here, or whether it was one thing or multiple phenomena overlapping, or if there were unforeseen consequences of their seemingly innocent play.

Was the heightened arousal permeating this place part of the same magic that allowed them, here and only here, to twist their hard, throbbing cocks free from their bodies? Was the alarming and unanticipated multiplication of those big, hard erections in the mysterious, shallow red-figure kylix bowl that Dante had just announced to them connected, or separate?

And then there was this to worry about: given that each step along the way was a little stranger, did that mean that all of this was building toward something they might find a little too weird?

Dante knew that his tio had spent decades stashing his strange, out-of-the-way mountain cabin’s every nook and crevice with arcane occult objects from a wide range of eras and cultures… so on that basis, it was probably more likely that each phenomenon they’d experienced, and whatever was to come, was the product of a different talisman with its own specific strictures and enchantments. Even then, though, it might not be that singular in practice. What was to say that the magic of various like artifacts, stored together in the same place with overlapping fields of potency, might not diffuse their powers into a miasma of combined, unified effects?

Dante had no idea about any of that, and he suspected from the hodgepodge of random junk he’d collected that his tio hadn’t exactly been comprehensively trained in this stuff, either.

What Dante worried about most was intent. Was this just happening to them, like the wind, or was it being done to them by something more or less consciously aware of them? Was that will animate or inanimate? To Dante there was a key difference between a sexytimes funplace that happened to provide a wacky suspension of the rules for a weekend, and a house with a cock fetish that wanted you to fuck around in it.

“What do you mean, exactly?” demanded Dmitry finally. Though the blond was raised in the U.S. and had no accent at all, whenever he got flinty Dante swore he could hear the faint, clipped edge of his Muscovite forebears.

Dante held the man’s icy blue gaze. “Just what I said. There’s a pile o’ cocks here, and it’s more than six.”

“How many more?” Darius asked.

Dante glanced down at the kylix, feeling another rush of jagged arousal at the sight. The cocks were beautiful and extremely hard, reflecting the concentrated, relentless horniness they were all trying to ignore. He could feel his extra-wide, flat-headed five-inch cannon buried in that dogpile, getting off on the snuggle of so many heat-throwing boners pressing in around it; but he could also kind of feel the others, the connectedness they had experienced starting with the original swap still lingering after their collective divestment. The general sense of collective pleasure made it difficult to sort out what exactly was going on in there.

He frowned. Was the pile a bit bigger than it had been a few moments before? Not sure. He looked back at the others. The impulse to stroke his own smooth crotch was strong, but he held it back. “It’s hard to tell,” he admitted. “It looks like double right now, maybe more. I think it might be slowly adding to the pile, one at a time.”

“Are they our cocks?” Enrique asked uncertainly, his lip curled slightly. “Or—”

“—someone else’s?” Evan finished, his dimpled grin widening with excitement. He turned to the others excitedly. “Like, other people’s cocks? Big cocks, famous cocks? All the cocks this house has known?” He looked around the cabin, taking in the walls and rafters like it was the most special place he’d ever imagined.

Dante stared at Evan in disbelief, wondering if he was always like this or if this trip with Enrique had unlocked something in him. Darius was smiling in quiet amusement. Seth was eyeing him incredulously. Even Enrique was rolling his eyes in scorn at his own secret BF—but then, his truculent, bristly brother wasn’t the kind to gaze upon a lover’s foibles with doe-eyed adoration.

“Are they ours?” Seth repeated, maintaining his focus better than the others. “Copies, I mean? Duplicates?” He seemed intrigued by the idea, while Dmitry, next to him, looked revolted.

Dante glanced down again, eyeing the contents of the wide, shallow bowl thoughtfully. “Yes, and no,” he said. As he watched, a new version of Evan’s distinctively bent cock formed on the top of the pile and tried to roll off, except the boomerang kink made rolling impossible and it just sort of slid awkwardly to the side of the bowl. Oddly, Dante found himself slightly disappointed that the new cocks didn’t form from the bottom, pushing the pile upwards.

He looked up, considering the others in turn as he spoke. “It looks like it’s all our cocks,” he reported, “but different sizes.”

That raised some eyebrows. “Go on,” Seth said after a beat.

Dante shrugged. “Different sizes,” he repeated. “Some are larger,” he added (that new Evan-cock had been at least 13 inches and visibly girthier), “and some—” He fixated on Dmitry, watching for his reaction. “—are smaller.”

Dmitry’s eyes narrowed, which told Dante everything he wanted to know. Dmitry had liked having a fat 5-inch cock far more than the mammoth 12-incher he’d been hauling around before. He was also acutely embarrassed by this truth and hated the fact that anyone paying attention, like Dante, would have easily picked up on it and known that Dmitry would be deeply, humiliatingly into the idea of a much smaller version of his own hard prick.

Evan was vibrating in his seat, but as the newbie he was reluctant to make the first move. Fortunately for him, Seth broke down quickly and said, “Okay, I have to see this,” and when he got up and moved to join Dante at the small, low coffee table, the others followed quickly, abandoning the much-vaunted pancakes and the rest of the spread.

Now that they were all gathered, shoulder to shoulder, the heightened lust of the place seemed to intensify. Dante grabbed Darius’s strong, reassuring hand and laced their fingers together, as much to keep himself from groping his lover’s fine, tight ass as anything. Seth and Dmitry overlapped their shoulders as they stooped to gape at the thrumming, precum-damp pile of extremely hard cocks, allowing Dmitry to surreptitiously wrap a hand around his lankier lover’s waist. The air between Enrique and Evan seemed to vibrate with a need to touch, but a bare inch remained between them.

“What is the deal with this thing?” Enrique asked. “Did, like, some ancient Greek sorcerer decide he needed a bowl of living dildos for a sex party or something?”

Darius huffed a laugh. Enrique’s question brought Dante back to whether the detachable dick thing was a separate phenomenon from the dick duping thing. If it was, then the kylix wasn’t just for cocks. But then, did that mean the phallic decoration on the side was a coincidence?

No, he was missing something here.

Seth seemed to be thinking along similar lines. “I wonder if it would duplicate other stuff,” he mused.

“Like what?” Dante asked.

Seth shrugged. “Money?”

“Different-sized money?” Darius requestioned. Dante nodded.

“Okay, gold, then,” Seth said.

“Fine, we try gold after we get off,” Dmitry gritted out. They were all seriously turned on. It had been mounting over the past few minutes, too, getting stronger and stronger. Dmitry’s ability to work around their intense arousal, however, seemed flimsier than the others’.

“So what do we do?” Enrique demanded after a moment, an edge of plaintiveness to his voice. Dante could relate. This was a weird situation, but the bottom line was he was surrounded by hot super-horny guys, his hard-on was snuggling deep in a pile of hard-ons, and he had to cum—soon.

A tense silence followed. Dante tsked. The others might have finally moved from the table, but all of them were still hanging back. Darius squeezed his hand, ready and supportive.

Dante realized he was almost reeling with arousal. His original cock was at the bottom of that pile and he needed to blow spunk through it in the worst way, either from his own crotch or someone else’s. “Just—take one and give it to someone else,” he said harshly, looking around at his friends in slight exasperation. “That’s kind of what we did before, right? You can keep it, or pass it on.”

“We should be drunk for this,” Evan suggested abruptly.

“Absolutely not,” Dmitry and Dante said in unison. The two each glanced at the other in annoyance.

“Everybody strip,” Seth said. “Pants off, shirts off, everything off.”

They were too horny to be self-conscious, and every inch of sculpted flesh revealed made their desperation worse.

Darius and Dmitry were both impressively muscular in different ways, Darius shorter, darker, and kind of bulky-sleek from his years of wrestling and careful weight training, Dmitry looking more like an idealized human construct whose every hour beating himself up at the gym only resulted in his form becoming more and more perfect. Seth was more the lanky type, not really working out his pale, defined form but still well-proportioned and very sexy. Dante and Enrique were both not-too-tall, attractive, and naturally tight—Dante could see a soft six-pack on his brother’s trim form despite Enrique never having done a sit-up in his life that he knew of. Evan, the newcomer, was tall and ripped, like a professional athlete who modeled on the side, his body geared toward inviting the hand and mouth to explore region by region.

Dante knew these bodies, apart from Evan’s, and seeing them now, at the height of this active, urgent, collectively shared lust, he was now absolutely certain that the five bodies he knew, his own included, looked hotter and harder and a notch buffer than they had been before that first weekend. Even the peculiarity of cockless groins with only various amounts of public hair and taut, hefty scrotums ranging from decent-sized to impressive, added to the unnatural mystique and the sense of their bodies being altered and reshaped by forces they didn’t understand.

The thought made him groan, and when his cock flexed in the wide bowl, making the pile shift with its movement, the others followed suit. He moved against Darius to his left, regripping his hand, and the others drew closer, too.

Just then another dick formed on top of the pile—a four-inch version of Darius’s brown, uncut cock. Dmitry whimpered almost inaudibly at the overwhelming sensations as another wave of lust tore through the whole group, obliterating any other thought.

Enrique was staring at the throbbing pile like they all were. “Fuck, what if we just came like this?” he said, sounding dazed with need.

Seth shook his head. “I want to stroke,” he said adamantly, his voice strained and thready. “And suck. And—”

“Okay, I’m fucking starting this,” Dante said. Closing his eyes, he reached down and tried to grab a cock at random. By chance his hand immediately found the extra-large Evan-cock he’d seen form and he grasped it firmly, Opening his eyes, he turned to Darius and pushed the massive, intriguingly bent erection against his lover’s crotch.

Evan moaned. “I feel that,” he said, sounding so saturated with burning lust he could have passed for intoxicated after all. “Holy frijole!”

They might have all grabbed for the pot, then now that the social strictures were broken. To prevent a scrum, Darius deliberately turned to his right and said, “Kiko, go.” Enrique closed his eyes, snatched up the first big, dripping, red-flushed boner he could from the top of the pile and, to Dante’s surprise, instantly pushed it into his brother’s crotch instead of his sex-friend Evan’s. Dante gaped down at it. Concidentally or by design It was a 14-inch version of Enrique’s own flat, extra-wide 6-incher. Belatedly he realized that Enrique was just following Dante’s precedent and phallifying the groin to his left (like Dante had) instead of his boyfriend (as Dante also had).

“Kiko, you don’t—” he started, too late, but Enrique had already glanced up at a grinning Evan, who closed his eyes, reached into the pile, and subsequently jammed a 5-inch mini-Dmitry cock into Enrique’s cockless pubic hair.

Dmitry whimpered again, though whether this was from the sharp, extremely pleasant sensation of being connected, or from not having gotten the small dick he not-so-secretly craved, Dante wasn’t sure. Evan must have picked up on Dmitry’s hints before, too. In any event, he seemed to guess the latter, tossing Dmitry a smirk. “Don’t worry, champ,” he snarked, “there’s more where that little guy came from.” Dmitry spared him a look that, if he were one of the X-Men, might have torn Evan to pieces.

The first three goes set the rules, regardless of Dante’s intent. The pace proceeded rapidly from there around the circle, each man picking the first hot, heavy boner that came to hand and pressing it into the hottie to their left, leading to mutual groans and grunts of excitement. Seth ended up giving Evan a normal-sized version of his own very straight ten-incher. Dmitry’s spasmodic grab yielded Dante’s wide 5-incher blown up to twice that size, and when he felt the punch of pleasure that came from joining with Seth’s crotch—it seemed stronger now than last time, like everything had been upped a notch—he very nearly couldn’t keep himself from cumming. Darius, laconic but observant, broke the rules and kept one eye open, quickly choosing the first four-incher he found, which happened to be another version of Darius’s own. Dmitry shuddered with unconcealed bliss, though his face remained dark and stoic.

Darius turned and looked at Dante, one eyebrow raised. “Another round?” he asked.

“Hurry up,” Seth whined, though Dante thought he wasn’t so much objecting to a second pass around the circle as urging them to get on with it as quickly as possible.

Dante was ready to cum, but his mind was full of cock. Well, and Darius’s hot wrestler bod and sweet, brain-melting smile, but mostly cock. Impulsively, he closed his eyes, reached into the kylix, and serendipitously pulled out another copy of his own wide, flat cock, this time at its original 5-inch dimensions. Grinning, he started to push it into Darius’s crotch next to the Evan-cock that was already there, then froze with the tingling base a mere inch from the ready skin. Darius had already proved himself open to nontraditional placement, and it occurred to him with a flash of lust that his brawny boytoy loved nipple play.

He glanced up, flicking his eyes first to Darius’s brown, erect nips, then meeting his amused gaze.

“Crotch for now,” Darius said with a lascivious smile. “We can experiment later.”

“Come on,” Seth urged. Dante, still grinning, pushed the cock in and moaned in concert with Darius as it connected.

Straightening, he was surprised by Enrique, who already had a cock in hand and was shoving it into Darius’s groin before he was even ready. This time it was a ten-inch version of Enrique’s 6-incher, to go with the 14-inch version he already had. Dante gaped at his brother with incredulity mixed with a level of intense passion dramatically heightened from a mere moment before. He hadn’t anticipated this, but joining with two cocks clearly meant a multiplied layer of sensation and an even higher libido. Fuck, he thought, almost giggling, they were in trouble now.

Enrique’s look was oddly defiant, but then Evan pushed a 10-inch Seth-cock into his groin (were Seth’s cocks all duping at the original size for some reason?) and Enrique’s eyes practically rolled back in his skull in reaction as Enrique experienced the same escalated pleasure Dante had.

In rapid succession, the rest of the circle was supplied with a second prick like a Grand Prix pit crew in action. Evan got a 16-inch Dmitry, Seth an 8-inch Enrique (weird that Seth’s two cocks turned out to be brothers), and Dmitry got a 3-and-a-half-inch Evan, complete with mini-kink to the left. They were all panting and riding the edge of a massive orgasm—or rather, each of them would be feeling a combined six-fold orgasm, their pleasures merging together. Or would it be twelve-fold now that they were joined twice over? Dante couldn’t even think.

There were still cocks in the bowl, but no one would last through round three. “Circle-jerk, now!” Seth shouted over the hurricane sweeping through them. With the giddiness of extreme arousal, Dante stared at the bowl and thought, Cool, the rest can be a la carte.

Darius and Enrique reached at the same time for Dante’s mismatched Enrique-cocks, both grabbing them as an already pre-slicked double-dick unit rather than taking one each or something like that. Thus inspired, Dante did likewise, gripping onto Enrique’s fat, steel-hard mini-Dmitry and equally-rigid Seth-boner in one hand and Darius’s standard-issue Evan-cock and Dante-cock in his other. The others followed suit, the grip of hands and the slick of precum crackling through them like ecstatic lightning. They started jerking each other, strong arms overlapping, one set of fists against the other.

It wasn’t long. The heat of the room ramped up, their pulses pounding in their ears. Some of them were shouting. “Fuck, oh fuck!” Evan yelled. Dmitry’s pleasure came out an inarticulate roar.

Before they knew it they were blasting cum, spurting all over the coffee table, the kylix, and each other. All of them were shouting and screaming now, mindless with unbearable, multiplied euphoria. Dante’s mind and perceptions drowned in white as his sensory apparatus overloaded and snapped.

It was long moments of floating, bodiless bliss before any of them gained any kind of awareness.

Dante looked around the group. They were all still gripping each other, all still rigidly hard. Each of their cum-spattered bodies had been upgraded a notch just since before the orgasm, making every one of them hotter, harder, more irresistible, like whatever magic was driving this wanted to ensure as much sex as possible.

Most of them looked blissed out and more or less insensate, but Dante saw that Enrique and Seth, slightly more focused than the others, were alert and staring at the hylix in what looked like actual horror. Bemused and woozy, still holding Enrique’s and Darius’s pricks, Dante looked down at the shallow bowl and gaped.

The kylix was stacked hard, needy cocks swimming in cum, but the shocker was not that the bowl was full of dicks again. Before, the appearances had been happening slowly, every—five minutes, maybe?

Now it was down to five seconds. As they stared at the bowl, cocks kept forming—their own cocks, the same six models in various sizes, emerging from some unknown dimension one after another, pop… pop… pop, proliferating out of control like the mops in The Sorceror’s Apprentice. One 15-inch Dante-cock formed on the top of the pile and rolled off, but there was nowhere in the kylix to go and it thumped onto the table with a splat of cum, sending a reverberation of remote pleasure through Dante’s slightly more chiseled body.

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing like a drunk. The others looked at him with various flavors of surprise or alarm.

He giggled at them. “We shouldn’t’a cum in the kylix,” he singsonged.

A second, aftershock-style orgasm rose unstoppably in them, and Dante groaned through his manic laughter. Fucked. They were so, so fucked.

Things might have devolved into a house full of cock—maybe even an avalanche of cock pouring down the forest slopes into the unsuspecting towns below (Cockmageddon, the first pitch for Asylum XXX)—had Seth not thrown aside the hyperorgasmic stupor enthralling all six of the hot, horny, over-phallicized boys and snatched up the shallow kylix in one swift move and made a dash for the kitchen, big, hot cocks dropping to the floor behind him like a breadcrumb trail through the labyrinth, only with hard, sputtering, very alive boners burning with heat and need. Making a beeline for the stainless steel sink he’d been cleaning up his pancake-cooking gear in hardly a half-hour earlier, Seth dumped out the cocks in the big oblong basin and turned on the water full blast, dousing the dish and the variously sized boners in (as it turned out) scalding hot water.

Dante, who’d been watching all of this from behind a wall of warm, stupefied bliss, cried out in shock. “What the fuck!” he shouted, his redlining arousal dropping off a cliff from the sudden, intense discomfort. The others were similarly jarred from their insular states of woozy ultrabliss, raining down curses and depreciations and variously impugning Seth’s ancestry in colorful and imaginative ways.

“Sorry not sorry,” Seth called, eyes on his work. Though he kept up his rinsing of the kylix as thoroughly as he could, Seth did fiddle one-handed with the faucets, switching over the water from a steaming hot that could have insta-cooked pasta to a bitter cold so low on the thermometer, any further down and he could have been dispensing slushies.

“Hey! Fuck you!” Dante bellowed, feeling all the cold even worse than he had the near-boiling hot. Those were his dicks in there—a good 17 percent of them, anyway—and he didn’t appreciate the extreme Heat Miser/Snow Miser treatment on all of his sensitive, crazy-multiplied phallic flesh one bit. Breaking free of the ring where they’d been standing like a game character released from a hold spell by the death of the casting wizard, he stormed into the kitchen to have it out with the pale, nicely gluted redhead standing naked at the sink, the others close behind.

Seth had pulled out the sink’s sprayer attachment and was thoroughly pummeling the kylix with it. He’d just set it aside and gotten to work on the pile of now-flaccid, multitoned and multisized cockflesh filling the sink when Dante reached him. He grabbed Seth’s shoulder, which unfortunately made him jerk the sprayer upward—directly into Dante’s face.

“What the fuck, man?” Dante sputtered, wiping his face impatiently with his hand and glaring at Seth. “What the fucking fuck?”

Seth held his gaze for a second, giving him a defiant half-smirk. “You’re welcome,” he said pointedly, before returning to his work rinsing the pile of soft cockflesh.

Darius appeared at Dante’s side, nudging his shoulder with his own. Dante noticed with chagrin that Darius had had the presence of mind to gather up off the floor the cocks that had dropped off the side of the kylix during Seth’s mad dash to the kitchen. Dante was supposed to be the leader here—he felt the responsibility of leadership, anyway, it being his cabin and the events all following from his choice to bring his friends here—and his hotheaded reaction was not what they needed. He needed to learn steadiness and stoicism from his big-shouldered lover, and fast. Seth took the cocks from Darius with a smile and a “thanks” and started rinsing them off with the others, while Dante pressed his lips together in self-recrimination.

“Hey,” Darius said, butting their shoulders lightly again, and Dante looked up. Darius’s smile seemed to say, You want steadiness? Take some of mine. I got plenty.

Dante’s heart squeezed. Fuck, I love you, he thought. Darius’s smile widened just a little, making his dimple show, and Dante felt his tension ease, enough for him not to feel quite so guilty over it.

Dmitry loomed over Seth’s other shoulder, his eyes full of dark concern as he gazed down at the mass of living, warm cocks sinuously piled in the big, steel sink. “Did that stop it?” he asked. “The propagation?”

They all drew a breath, watching the pile for any sign of increasing mass pushing up from below. Seth eyed the shallow antique vessel he’d set aside on the counter, dappled with water but thankfully devoid of both cum and cocks, apart from the ones painted cheekily on its side. Dante frowned at it, following Seth’s gaze. However old it was, the trouble-making dish looked fresh from the glazer and ready for mischief. There wasn’t even a crack in it, which didn’t seem possible for a finely crafted relic ancient enough to have had the dicks of Cylon of Athens, Ajax the handsome, and all the hunks of Sparta piled in there in ages past.

“Yes,” Seth said definitively. “Which just leaves us with this lot to figure out.” He ran a hand over the heavy, thick phalluses in the basin, causing a ripple of sensate pleasure in Dante’s cocks. Not the ones on his body, both of which were oversized versions of his brother’s substantial dick. His dicks were distributed elsewhere: an extra-large one hung from Seth’s crotch, a regular-sized version in his lover’s well-trimmed groin, and more were in the sink—a lot more. How many? A dozen? Criminy.

At Seth’s touch his cocks flexed and twitched, but so did the others’, in the writhing heap and on each others’ bodies. The huge Enrique-cocks currently plugged into his physique jerked against his thighs, swelling slightly as they waited alertly for further stimulation, and Dante could feel their pleasure and interest almost as well as his own. In fact he could feel all the cocks, though most of them at a comparative remove. The sharing of sensation was stronger than ever. Their next orgasm would be so stacked up and multiplied it might just melt their brains to goo.

“Let’s try to avoid getting everyone riled up again,” he cautioned Seth. To his amazement the words came out sounding gentle and calm, though the result felt more like a fluke of his kaleidoscoping emotions than any bout of maturity. Seth nodded in agreement, not looking up.

“What a disaster,” Dmitry said, lifting his doleful gaze to glare at Dante.

Evan was incredulous. “Are you joking?” he asked the hard-bodied Russian sorehead, genuinely baffled.

Dante stepped away from the sink and dropped bare-assed into the nearest dining room chair, his brother’s upsized cocks feeling heavy in his groin as they draped across his significantly enlarged balls. Enrique pulled out the chair next to his and sat in it, folding his arms over his chest and giving Dante a hostile look. Seth stayed at his station, gingerly sorting the cocks by the original owner onto a towel laid across the counter next to the sink, Darius silently helping him. Dmitry and Even stood back watching, their expressions comically complementary, like the tragicomedy masks equally beloved by ancient Greeks and modern community theater. Dante let out a long breath and tried to ignore the brushes of his friends’ fingers as they found and handled his various cocks, laying them out and gently stacking them on the soft terrycloth like a haul of different-sized eels from the harbor trawler.

“Let me see if I understand what’s going on,” Enrique said. “This dish thing, the thing that Xeroxed our dicks. Is that the thing that made it so we could… so we could snap them off in the first place?”

Dante shook his head. He was certain of that. The kylix was capable of multiplying things, apparently randomly resizing them as it did so, but he was sure that when it came to cocks (or other body parts) it relied on there being a preexisting ability to detach whatever was put in the dish.

Enrique was not pleased. “So, the detachment thing comes from a different relic. Any idea which one?”

Dante quailed a little at the question. The place was so full of strange objects he could for real open his own “knicknacks and possible talismans” store down in the village. The whole place had a vibe—hell, it could still be the cabin itself that got them all horny and willing to pull each other off, literally and figuratively. His cousin Santino had specifically collected magical objects, though. He spent his life doing it, and it was the house and its contents that he had bequeathed to Dante before buggering off into whatever cum-filled Valhalla he and his inseparable group of friends had vanished into without a trace. He glanced up at the squat bronze totem of a monkey god on the mantel, the one brazenly stroking his arm-sized, very erect dick, but as erotic idols went it was maybe a little too on the nose. He shook his head again. “Nope.”

“Great,” Enrique groused. “And from what you said, this place could be stuffed with magical doodads, any one of which might give us horns or turn us into centaurs or god knows what.”

Dante glanced sidelong at his brother, slightly amused. “You want to be centaur, Kiko?” he teased.

Enrique’s eyes blazed. “Will you—?!”

“It’s not everything,” Dante broke in. “I felt a quiver of something as I touched the kylix, like I was sensing the magic in it.”

“And so naturally you put our dicks in it.”

“I didn’t—!” Dante stopped himself from blowing up. Calm, he told himself. Calm and steady, like Darius. He tried again, keeping his tone even. “I didn’t know what I was feeling. Now I do. I think we can recognize which relics are magical from that shiver of sensation, and if we work carefully we might be able to figure out which—”

“No way!” Evan said. Dante looked up to see the tall, lean hottie was watching them, his bright green eyes alight with excitement. “Let’s go find them!” he said. He looked around at the others, all of them staring at him like he’d suggested doing a play in Esperanto. “Dibs on the bedrooms!” he said suddenly. Then, incredibly, he was gone, heading into the back of the living room and vanishing up the stairs that led to the second level.

Before Dante could even react Dmitry was following him, hot on the man’s heels. “No you don’t, little mongoose!” he said, pounding up the steps after him. “If you cause more trouble I will personally drown you in a sack and sell what’s left of you to lionkeepers!” Then he, too, was gone, leaving Dante to trade astonished looks with the others. Seth seemed wryly amused; Darius too, though there was a line of concern between his brows. Enrique had the defiant look of someone who knew he was responsible for bringing a Tasmanian devil with him and refused to admit it.

Seth turned to Darius. “We should help,” he said mildly.

Darius nodded. “Basement?” he suggested.

“Sounds good.” The two of them wiped their hands on a spare dishtowel and trouped out of the kitchen, headed for the narrow stairs down to the finished basement under the cabin. As he passed, Darius tossed Dante a wink. Dante just stared.

When they were gone, he turned to his brother to find him glowering at him, his arms still crossed over his sculpted chest. “Fuck,” he said, “you.”

Dante felt a crooked smile creep across his lips. He glanced at the fat, extra large Enrique-cocks pulling on his groin muscles, ready to respond to the slightest provocation, then up at his brother. “Give me an excuse, Kiko,” he said easily. “But you know, you’ll only be fucking yourself.”

Enrique gave him the finger, and Dante laughed. Some things didn’t change much, even in a house of magically detaching cocks.

Dmitry stalked deliberately up the stairs as the overeager fool nimbly reached the upper floor landing and dove through the first door he found. Idiot, Dmitry seethed mentally, following through the doorway close on his heels into the small, brightly lit room.

The fool turned on his heels and flinched when he Dmitry standing there, looming menacingly. An inane, temptingly punchable grin instantly spread across his face. “Oops! Bathroom,” Evan said cheerfully. He made to move past Dmitry.

Dmitry did not move.

The fool faced him, standing a little too close and looking up at him with that same idiotic grin. Dmitry was annoyed at having to notice his bright green eyes and full, kissable lips. This fuckass was too much of everything. Too keen, too unpredictable, and too good-looking. It was irritating.

His three friends, that was one thing. These newcomers, intruding into the boundaries of his trust, were almost intolerable. Dmitry wished he weren’t here, that he didn’t have to deal with this. He especially wished this prick, of all pricks, didn’t have one of Dmitry’s overlarge cocks hanging heavily from his groin, ready for whatever fuckery the jerk wanted to get up to with it. That the fool’s thick, twitchy, one-third-scale phallus hung from his own groin, next to the mini version of muscle-boy Darius’s, felt like poor collateral.

His ponderous pecs tightened infinitesimally. He needed to work out. He needed to find a gym and spend a few solid hours sweating and punishing his muscles until everything felt better.

Dmitry was still in the way, blocking the door. The fool was staring up at him, his grin twisting into a wide smirk. “You’re a lanky hunk of blue-eyed granite, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m not used to guys who are taller than me. You must have a couple inches on me, right? What are you, 6-4?”

Dmitry wanted to growl. Those green eyes were distracting him. Dmitry didn’t intend to be intimidating exactly, but his height and size and stillness usually helped people calm down. This guy wasn’t as tall as him, but the difference wasn’t much. Then again, a fool like this one could be five-foot-nothing and still not get the message.

“No, 6-5,” the fool corrected himself thoughtfully, his eyes dancing up to his cropped blond hair (the most hair he had anywhere on his smooth, hard body) and back to Dmitry’s again. “Nice. You must get all the boys. Especially with this thing,” he added, hefting the extra-large version of Dmitry’s cock hanging not-quite-limply from the fool’s groin, next to the comparative modest-looking Seth-phallus.

Dmitry held his breath to suppress a groan. His cock was incredibly sensitive, especially in his usual huge form and particularly especially in the even-larger ultima version the fool was wagging around at him like to pool noodle.

Dmitry took a step closer, sharpening his frowning expression into a full-on glare. Intimidation suddenly wasn’t sounding quite so bad. “Listen, asshole,” he gritted out. “I didn’t ask for you to be here. I didn’t ask for you to be yanking my dick around. And I especially didn’t ask for you to start chasing through the house looking for more magic to fuck everyone around with.”

The fool was unfazed, predictably if annoyingly. His smile grew sultry, and his green eyes were wide as he stared up at Dmitry. “So what did you want to do?” he asked. “Hmm, big guy?”

Dmitry hesitated. The answer was for them to go downstairs, convince Dante to undo the experiment and redistribute everyone’s dicks, and go home, maybe hit the gym for a week. He couldn’t make himself say it. For one thing, it was a relief to be rid of his giant phallus for once—the only saving grace of this sorry, benighted escapade—and taking it back would be a bother. Not that he was truly free of it, exactly, seeing as the fool was at that very moment casually stroking his XXL-sized copy of Dmitry’s massive footlong original, sending spiky shivers chasing up and down Dmitry’s spine and quickening his pulse as the two of them chubbed together.

He could feel the other versions of his dick swelling, too, not just the smaller one Dante’s brother had but all the uncounted, very attentive Dmitry-cocks snuggling in the huge, warm-and-cozy dick-pile in the sink, poised to spring to life at the slightest stimulus. Most of them were at least his original too-big dimensions, and few were considerably bigger, surpassing even the third-again-larger edition the fool was currently toying with in deliberate, maddening provocation. That was the worst part—all of them were still thoroughly plugged into his nervous system and sensory apparatus, especially all the ready-to-go, keenly alert detached ones he wasn’t sharing with anyone else. They wanted to get big and hard, to thrum with heat and sex. He could almost sense them begging for it.

Staring down at this cheeky moron wasn’t helping matters. The fool knows his eyes are pretty, he thought indignantly. He tried glaring harder, but the other man just grinned brightly at him.

“Uh huh,” the fool said, tossing him a wink as he gave his chubbed Dmitry-cock a long, tantalizing stroke. With his free hand he patted Dmitry’s hard, beefy shoulder before sliding past him in search of more rooms to explore, his hairy chest brushing across Dmitry’s thick, sculpted arm.

Left alone in the gleaming, white-tiled bathroom, Dmitry gathered himself, pushing down his rapidly welling arousal. He wanted to stalk down the stairs, to take comfort in his friends and then put on his clothes and go. Maddingly he could not, because doing so would mean abandoning the fool to create infinite mischief on his own in this weird hoarding-place full of who knew what kinds of undiscovered and unwanted magic.

I’d better go after him before the fucker turns us all into goats, he thought grimly, turning on his bare heel and following the troublemaker out into the hallway, his lust-lengthened cocks brushing teasingly against each other as he went.

He found the fool in a small bedroom, with dark-chocolate walls and a bare, unclothed mattress. There were several sturdy bookcases. Some were packed with worn hardbound books (probably spellbooks and demon bibles, he thought grimly), while others were crammed with tchotchkes. The fool had a white marble object in his hand, a long cylinder tapering at one end, like a candle or a rounded-off Washington Monument.

The fool held it up for him with a grin. “Look, this one’s cool!” he said. “And it’s buzzing!”

Dmitry shivered with instant, overwhelming arousal. Something had happened to Evan’s voice. It was lower and smoother and completely irresistible, crawling into Dmitry’s insides and making him reckless. His face, too. Dmitry couldn’t look away. Was he actually handsomer? Were his lips really that much more enticing, his jawline that much more perfect, the mahogany highlights in his lush, dark hair that utterly compelling? Or was it a momentary spell? Something cynical in him suspected it was both, and the fool would have reason to be even cockier from now on.

Evan’s smile grew wicked as Dmitry swept toward him. “What?” he said in that impossible, deeply captivating voice. “You see something you—?”

Dmitry wrenched the marble talisman from Evan’s grip and hurled it aside. It landed on the mattress with a thump, but Dmitry didn’t care about it one way or the other. He was raging hard, both his Darius- and Evan-dicks and all his own dicks, big and small, scattered throughout the house. Including the one right in front of him, the one even bigger than the stupidly huge footlong he’d had a love-hate relationship with since before puberty taught him what it was really for and all the trouble it would get him into. It was so big and long it had slid right between Dmitry’s legs as he approached, waiting for a chance to frot and blow between Dmitry’s god-worthy, gym-sculpted thighs.

Evan was panting, his pupils blown. “Dmi—” he started again, but Dmitry, vibrating with strength and overpowering arousal, grabbed the other man’s shoulders and forced him to his knees.

“Suck—my dicks—now!” Dmitry gritted out angrily, his voice deep and needy.

Evan beamed foolishly up at him. “Yes, sir,” he said in that too-deep, too-sexy voice.

“Hurry,” Dmitry growled.

Evan complied with a will, diving onto Dmitry’s mini cocks and taking both the four-incher (Darius’s) and the three-and-a-half-incher (Evan’s) into his hot mouth at the same time. With an effort of will, Dmitry turned his moan of pleasure into another growl.

Evan got to work, sucking and licking the iron-hard cocks like he was born for this very purpose. Had the artifact ratcheted this skill up, too, escalating his blow-job abilities to irresistible levels along with his voice and beauty? He didn’t want to know the answer. He dreaded the idea that Evan might have magic fellatio skills, but he didn’t want the fuckhead to be naturally gifted in this wonderful, exceedingly necessary skill, either.

The others were getting turned on, too. They were all connected, the rising flood if lust rushing through all six of them. Dmitry couldn’t tell if it was because of the sex bomb that had detonated between him and Evan, or if it was something the others were doing in the course of their own artifact hunts. He couldn’t spare a single brain cell to consider it. His muscles tickled, like something was happening to them, and his balls felt big and burgeoning under his desperate erections. He couldn’t deal with any of that, either.

Just then, Evan reached down and started stroking both of his shared hardons. One was Seth’s ten-incher, and the other… the other was a monster 16-inch version of his own insatiable dick. He felt every stroke, and he felt Evan feeling it too, a reversal of the shared cocksucking pleasure Dmitry’s mini Evan-cock was getting. The effect was like multiplying the heady gratification of every damned stroke. It was all too much.

This time he did moan, low and loud, and Evan hummed smugly as he stepped up his extremely effective cocksucking, stroking all the while. Hot, overpowering orgasm welled up in Dmitry, but he fought it back, not wanting to hand Evan such an easy win. I will not cum this soon, Dmitry told himself with granite will. This orgasm is mine, not his! I will make it last forever if I have to!

Darius and Seth stood together at the foot of the narrow walnut cellar stairs, looking over the space before them. Having grown up in a string of tall old apartment buildings with no tenant sublevel access, Darius’s experience with underground spaces was mostly via the basement tunnels at his high school, lit with bare, buzzing fluorescent tubes where the free-weights gym was, mixed with dark and scary basements full of old suspicious-looking farm implements and shelves of dirty Mason jars bobbing with ancient canned vegetables—images gleaned from a hundred movies and the odd peekabo shadow-figure video.

This place looked ten times more inviting by comparison. Light streaming in from quarter windows spaced around the paneled walls near the ceiling revealed a large, slightly dusty open space with hardwood floors and very little ominous clutter—not a single murder-hoe or pickled pepper in sight. Just an old plaid sofa and a few lamps to one side, some large boxes stacked neatly against one wall alongside a Saw III-style wooden crate, and a couple of large chests of drawers against the far wall with a dozen deep pullouts each, no doubt crammed with artifacts both mysterious and questionable.

The footprint was a little smaller than the main kitchen/living room area upstairs. To Darius this suggested that there might be another, narrower cellar space beyond the further wall, though no door was obvious to provide access. Must be where all the forsaken evil is kept, he thought, amused.

Darius took the space in calmly, as unself-conscious about his casual nudity and phallic multiplication as the taller, practically-minded redhead next to him. He was glad the heat worked so well in the cozy up-mountain cabin, and the very effective weatherstripping kept drafts to a minimum. He hated feeling chilly. Drafts and nipple-hardening cold were just about the only thing that kept him from walking around naked pretty much all the time.

“So, how’s work at the new hospital?” he asked, giving the room another slow pass to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Eh,” Seth said. “Lots of assholes. As usual.”

Darius turned to his friend. “With lightbulbs in ‘em?” he teased.

Seth snorted. His eyes were on the crate, a line between his rusty brows. “I did get one of those once in the E.R.,” he said absently. Glancing at Darius he added, “The twisty kind.”

“Nice,” Darius said. Seth smiled wryly and wandered over to the crate, bending over it without touching it. Darius took this as his cue to head over to the other side of the room and give the chests of drawers a look-see. As he looked over the drawers, likewise holding back from tactile contact for the moment, he let his tongue slide over the upper inside surface of his mouth, enjoying the subtly rougher texture of his tastebuds moving across the smooth silkiness of his soft palate. He missed his mouthcock, he had to admit. Particularly he missed the way it felt just as good inside his mouth, mostly soft and plenty pliable, as it had shoving rudely past his lips, rock-hard and desperate for lots of passionate Dante kiss-fucking. Since getting rid of it, his mouth had felt noticeably empty and forlorn, and he with that was aware of a mild, if hard-to-slake, new addiction to oral sensation and stimulation.

“What do you suppose is in it?” Seth asked, still observing the crate.

Darius glanced over. It was a cube of rough pine wood slats, maybe four feet to a side. The lid looked to be neatly nailed on, so opening it would require an actual crowbar. “Ark of the Covenant?” he guessed, turning back to his examination of the drawers, each of which was a foot deep and a foot and a half wide. He pulled one out at random, liking the trackless sound and feel of wood against wood as it slid outward.

In it was a stack of bulky knit sweaters. Probably not magical, he thought. Though it would be very funny if they were. He closed the drawer.

“Not the right size, I think,” Seth mused without looking up. He hmmed. “It could be dishes for all we know.”

“Or curtains,” Darius said cheekily. He pulled out another drawer at random, deliberately not following any pattern.

“Or a double boiler,” Seth sang in a smooth, pleasant tenor.

Darius grinned over his shoulder at Seth, surprised. Seth smiled up at him sheepishly. “I was in a production of The Music Man in high school,” he said. “That stuff stays in your brain forever.”

“Cool,” Darius said.

“Fuck you,” Seth said amiably, as if Darius had razzed him. “What’s your excuse?”

“I have a slight Julie Andrews fixation,” Darius admitted. “Don’t tell Dante.”

Seth frowned. “Julie Andrews isn’t in The Music Man. Is she?”

“No, but Robert Preston is in Victor/Victoria.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “That almost makes sense,” he said after a beat.

Darius winked as he turned back to the drawer he’d opened. It seemed to be half-full of medium-to-large open-ended wrenches, for some reason. He pushed the heavy drawer closed with a clatter and chose another.

“Uh oh,” he commented, feeling a single in the more massive of his two dangling cocks. “Evan’s getting turned on.” Darius could feel the warm lust spreading through himself, too, like a contact high but for arousal.

Seth hmphed. “Both of mine are on simmer,” he observed. “Think there’s a bit of fraternal sexual tension gathering upstairs?”

Darius, whose other cock was one of Dante’s, concurred. “I’d pay to see that,” Darius said distractedly, opening the third drawer and peering within. The only thing in the deep, squarish repository was a large bone carving, maybe the size of his fist, of some shelled sea-creature. The bottom of the drawer had a layer of baby-blue foam padding, presumably to keep the object from bouncing around too much on the drawer’s hard wooden interior surface, but the carving was otherwise loose and unprotected. “Huh.”

“You probably won’t have to,” Seth said, coming over to peer over his brawny shoulder. “What’d you find?”

Darius peered at the object in the drawer, his spidey-sense warning him there was something significant about it. He moved his hand close to the thing, not quite picking it up. Sure enough he felt a low vibration, faint but definite, just like Dante had described feeling from the kylix. He lifted the thing out to show Seth, the soft, gentle buzz filtering down his arm as he held it up.

They looked it over. It was a flat oval in shape, maybe six inches by three and couple inches high, the exterior painted glossy black. It was split around the perimeter and slightly ajar, like a pistachio.

“What is it, a mollusk?” Darius wondered aloud.

“I think it’s a mussel,” Seth said.

Bam. Lightning shot through Darius, electrifying every part of him. Before he could become alarmed, though, the sensation passed, leaving his body feeling effervescent and thrumming intensely with energy and arousal.

Gasping, he looked down at himself in amazement. He’d just added like three months at the gym’s worth of solid, dense muscle. His pecs were thicker, not wildly but visibly; his arms, likewise felt just that noticeable bit heavier and stronger; his abs were a few hundred crunches’ worth tighter and more chiseled. His thighs were obviously slightly firmer, and even his ass felt harder and rounder.

Darius felt a dark rush of excitement at the change. It was more than he usually felt from his actual gains, and some part of him thought his carnal reactions were being augmented along with his size. His two cocks, neither of them his, responded rapidly to the deep rush of pleasure coursing through him, already half-stiffened with major interest.

“Holy—” Seth breathed. Darius looked over, thinking the other man was reacting to Darius’s growth—but the redhead had bulked up, too. His swimmer’s physique had popped, the rounder pecs and squarer shoulders making a big visual difference on his paler, leaner form.

“Dude, look at you. You could do thirst-trap Insta now,” Darius joked.

“Like I couldn’t before,” Seth snarked. He looked down at the swelling, uncut Latin cocks in his groin, then snapped his gaze up to Darius’s, eyes glinting with amusement and interest. “Dude, I think it happened to all of us!”

“No way,” Darius said, though he, too, could feel the excited responses from Evan and Dante flowing from his shared junk and into his sexual chi. He shook his head, less out of denial than shock. “Are you telling me, just from you saying ‘mussel’ we all—?”

Bam! Darius shivered as another wave of muscle growth plowed through him. He stared down at his more massive delts, now even more like striated cannonballs under his brown skin. He was getting seriously jacked. I hope Dante likes ’em big, he thought, a little dazed. His Evan- and Dante-cocks were now fully hard, as were all of his own, both the little one attached to Dmitry and the ones in the big cock-pile in the kitchen.

“Dude!” the now twice-upgraded Seth said in alarm, slapping Darius lightly on his bulky upper arm. “Stop saying ‘mussel’!”

Bam! The growth tore through them a third time, swelling them even more and making their cocks pulse in desperation. In pure stimulus-response mode, Darius flung the artifact back into the padded drawer.

The two of them gaped at it for a second, then at each other, before breaking into fits of laughter.

“Now what?” Darius giggled. They were standing close, looking each other over. Seth was as big now as Darius’s very first “after” photo, nine months into the body-building hobby that had quickly become part of his permanent, lifelong routine.

Seth was eyeing Darius’s extremely jacked, perfectly proportioned body with naked hunger. “Dude, you’re so pretty and so, so muscley,” he said. He sounded almost high with intense erotic need, a feeling Darius could empathize with. “I gotta touch. Can I touch?”

Darius’s smile became a slow leer as he took in his thrice-bumped-up friend. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple and down his razor-sharp jaw. He was feeling hot all over and, unusually for him, a little wild. His heart pounded hard in his chest as his lust slowly mounted past his ability to control it. Their faces were close now, and their slight difference in height was making the angle seem like pure invitation.

“Only if you kiss as well,” he whispered, sounding as ludicrously wanton in his own ears as Seth had.

“Sold,” Seth purred. The word had barely been spoken before their lips crashed together. Their bodies followed, massive cocks crushed urgently between them, encased by pecs and hips mashing impressively above and below. Strong hands skated gratifyingly over deliciously broad backs as the two muscle men made out with deep, ravenous passion.

Oh, we got trouble, Darius thought randomly, toes curling in the ends of his sneakers. The arousal escalated. Not all of it was coming from himself and Seth—the six of them were connected, and all of them were ramping up to the same soaring, all-consuming need. As Seth’s long tongue wrestled with his own he thought of the others upstairs, muscle-boosted and horny as fuck for each other just like they were, and instantly streams of wet, slippery precum started seeping from his many, many hard-ons as he moaned into the wild, unstoppable kiss.

Enrique sat stubbornly at the table for a few minutes, watching his brother calmly prowl the living room, eyeing the various artifacts on the mantel in turn. He hadn’t expected Dante’s remark about fucking Enrique with his own cocks to strike a chord the way it had, and he was uncomfortably aware that he was staring at his brother’s nude and very fine ass as he moved slowly from object to object. Looking away from Dante’s perfect glutes only caused his magnetized gaze to snap onto his brother’s sleek, nicely delineated swimmer’s legs, or the way his long back flared gently as it rose, capped with shoulders and lightly bulging traps Enrique couldn’t avoid thinking he wanted to run his hands over, right the fuck now.

Actually, he wanted to run his hands over all of the above. Followed by his dicks.

This wasn’t a new feeling. Enrique had always been a little hot for his older brother Dante, grudgingly appreciating his easy adaptability and innate ability to lead through confidence and charisma even as Dante’s naturally fit physique and simple handsomeness made his dick swell and his cheeks heat at the damnedest times. He’d kept a handle on it for years, mostly through a strategy of seducing ridiculously hot and randy guys like Evan and messing around with them to work off his high-functioning libido, all while letting Dante trigger a low-key hostility from Enrique, one that others who knew him as jokey and extrovertedly buddy-buddy sort never got to see otherwise.

Here, in their weird cousin’s mysterious and remote cabin, his attractions were clearly amplified even as defenses broke down completely. Something about this place stripped away inhibitions, filling the air with pure, low-key horniness that kept mounting until you had to make lots of blissful, endless orgasms happen for you and everyone around you.

Unable to sit any longer, he abruptly unfolded his arms and stood, marching across the room to where Dante was stooping to peer at a rough, heavy-looking foot-tall wooden figurine of extremely swole gladiators fucking like bears. He had his hand out, the flat of his palm held an inch away from the lewd cherrywood sculpture—presumably sensing for magical output.

“Well?” Enrique demanded, standing just behind Dante and peering past him at the artifact.

Dante glanced down at his shoulder, which Enrique was innocently grasping as though that were a normal thing for them, then turned back to his work, suppressing a smile. “Nope.”

Enrique was sensitive to smells, and this close, his brother’s enticing natural woodland aroma was strong. His stubble was coming out, too. Enrique was a goner for Dante’s face any time he let his beard come out even a little. That summer he’d worn a goatee had been torture.

Enrique felt his arousal seep into his dicks, two oversized iterations of which Dante unfortunately had hanging heavily from his groin. He knew his brother could feel his arousal, just as he could feel Dante’s. Truculently, he ignored it, as well as the way his thumb was stroking casually along the orblike surface of Dante’s deltoid.

“What are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?” he said after a moment. “What do think we’re actually going to find?”

Dante moved down the mantel, hand still out. He was now standing in front of the squat bronze totem of a monkey god cheekily grasping his arm-sized, very erect dick he’d noticed earlier. Enrique kept pace, hand still firmly on Dante’s shoulder.

“You know what we’re looking for,” Dante explained, his eyes focused on the hyperphallic monkey. After a couple of minutes, he frowned in annoyance and moved on again. They were both extremely hard now, the lust-levels rising rapidly through the whole house, but they both doggedly ignored their stiff erections.

“We need to know what affects us in this place,” Dante continued distractedly, “whether it’s latent, like the hormone levels or the detachment thing, or something that activates on contact like the kylix.”

Enrique felt his attraction to Dante mounting like the tach on a speeding Indy car. His heart felt thick with need. He fought it with harsh words, trying to keep him and his brother separate even as he gripped him harder. “And you can just stick your hand out and feel the magic or whatever like a Geiger counter?”

Dante was grinning. “See for yourself.”

Enrique blinked, taking in the ceramic-looking object Dante was examining. It was a large anthropomorphic raccoon-like creature, or maybe it was a dog, standing on its hind legs in a human-like pose. The hairs on its face and muzzle were more articulated than the smoother, stockier lower body. A white bandana was wrapped around its forehead just under the furry pointy ears, and around its more human waist were Japanese-style wrappings. Most noticeable, however, was what it was carrying in its arms: a very large, hair-speckled scrotum, almost as big as itself, the massive globes within discernable as they rubbed against the raccoon-man’s cheek—the scrotum was so large the creature had to tilt its head to see around it. Its expression was calm, slightly burdened, but generally satisfied.

“Jesus,” Enrique said, staring at the monstrosity with a sense of horror mixed with unavoidable curiosity. What would that be like?

Reaching across Enrique, Dante took hold of his other wrist and raised his hand to hover in front of it the way Dante had been doing. Enrique, not used to the Jedi method of nontactile discernment Dante had been using, instinctively moved his hand forward and grasped the raccoon-man artifact, his hand wrapping automatically around its body and scrotum.

He looked quickly at Dante. “It’s warm,” he said, even as the buzz of its magic thrilled through him, a tsunami of vibration heading straight for his groin.

Dante’s eyes widened, no doubt sensing indirectly what Enrique was experiencing. “Let go—!” Dante urged. Just then his muscles noticeably swelled, right before Enrique’s eyes. The hell—?

Dante was looking at Enrique’s body, too, but not at his tingling muscles. He was looking at Enrique’s crotch. “Bro! Let go!” he shouted, over the rushing in Enrique’s ears.

“Too late!” Enrique said. His balls were growing, feeding impossible amounts of lust into his body and swamping his brain. As it surged through his junk, thicking his erections and hardening them even more, the effect barreled through the multi-boy connection—through his shared dicks to Dmitry and Seth (who were both overwhelmed with lust already) and through his own raging oversized dicks to Dante, radiating outward like boulder splashing into a lake until all of them were infected, their balls growing, their hormones surging.

“Kiko!” Dante cried, prying his clenching hand free of the figure with difficulty, they faced each other, gripping each other’s shoulders.

“Dante, I—” Enrique said, then blurted, “You promised to fuck me! Do it!”

His voice was a whine, but the need in his suddenly grapefruit-sized balls heightened everything. Their cocks with sputtering huge amounts of pre by now, maybe more than any human had ever produced. Not just the four they had between them, but all of them, all of their cocks, attached and otherwise. This would be an epic eruption.

Without a word, Dante turned Enrique and pushed him to grip the back of the sofa. Enrique did so, bent over and ass out. He felt impatient and empty. “C’mon, bro!” he begged. “I need to cum in my own ass!”

Dante might have laughed, but Enrique could barely hear anything over the maelstrom inside him. A wet, slicked-up cockhead pressed against his entrance, and he could tell it was the ten-inch version of his usual six-incher. “No, the big one!” he insisted. He’d only been fucked a few times, normally preferring to fick or get blown, but in this moment he had to have as much cock in him as possible. He had to!

“You’ll get both if you don’t give me your ass right now,” Dante said. Enrique was already crooked over with his anus ready, but he wiggled his butt to leave no doubt. Dante pushed the broad cockhead of the ten-incher against the ring of his anus and pressed slowly past it.

“C’mon, get it in me!” Enrique pleaded. “I have to cum! I have to cum for all of us!”

Dante said something that might have been “Bossy,” but he didn’t care. He felt his own cock pushing into his ass, inch by inch, sharing the delirious pleasure with Enrique and, through their connection, all the others. He could feel them, too, building up to a cataclysmic release, their balls grown and their production insanely amplified in mimicry of his own.

His, though, was the master scrotum—bigger, stronger, and in command.

He was so close. They were all so fucking close.

“Push it in push it in push it in,” he chanted. His fourteen-incher rode along his crease, blazing hot and ready to blow, free and clear in the open air as it brushed along the upper mounds of his glutes. That was nice, but his focus was all on the big, fat Enrique-cock drilling into his tight, inexperienced ass. “More,” he commanded, his voice catching. “Deeper. All the way, bro, all the way!”

“I’m doing it!” Dante shouted, gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks. “Shut your hole!”

Enrique squeezed, making Dante moan. “Wrong hole!”

“Come onnnnyeessssss!!!” Enrique bellowed, gripping the sofa hard enough he could have ripped it apart if he were stronger. He felt strong, and more aroused than anyone could be, but Dante bottoming out in Enrique’s ass with Enrique’s own cock was all that mattered.

“Oh god, yes! Yess!!” he shouted. The walls of his resistance burst, and suddenly an explosion of cum was gushing through his cocks—every one of his cocks. His ass was hot with jizz, the pressure pushing past the huge cock and spattering out onto Dante even as his even bigger monster cock firehosed cum all over his back. His unattached cocks were cumming, too, filling the sink with hot, liquid spunk.

Then the orgasm chain-reacted, through him and Dante to the rest of the guys. All of them were cumming, all together, pleasure feeding back and multiplying among them. The house was filled with moans, shouts—and, from upstairs, angry curses that could only be Dmitry.

Enrique was still cumming, but he grinned, sharing a look with Dante over his somehow-bulging shoulder as they glanced upward at the ceiling. Then another wave of orgasm kicked in, this one even more potent and overwhelming than the first. In his surging, cascading, multiplied euphoria, Enrique was happy to succumb to its force and lose the plot for a good, long while.

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