Woody’s been searching for his other half, but he doesn’t realize quite what that means, or what changes will happen when they meet.
Woody knew he would find his mate tonight. Since he’d woken up that morning his still constantly hard cock, even bigger and more unmanageable since his revelation, had been tingling madly—and even more promising, he felt a strange sensation in his groin, the ghost of another cock, the cock that would belong to his mate—whoever he was. He knew it had to happen soon.
He’d gone though his day on edge, attracting a great deal of attention, but still he felt no closer to any of the guys from his classes or his buds from the dorms. He decided he would go out, expose himself to as many boys as possible, and hope that they would be drawn somehow to each other.
This was his third club. He was trying to be patient. Thanks to his impressive looks and his obviously huge cock there was a constant stream of guys hitting on him—some getting in his way and trying to talk him up, some groping him unapologetically as he passed, or pressing against his back if he stopped, a handful just grabbing him and starting to make out, as if temporarily unhinged by his desirability. But while he was attracting Grade-A hunks that at an earlier time he would have taken home and given a passionate night to remember, none of them were the one. He still felt that strange sensation in his groin, his ghost dick, searching for its man.
He found himself near the exit. He sighed and turned to go. And when he turned he was suddenly, unexpectedly, face to face with a very cute Caribbean hunk. His skin was smooth, the color of café-au-lait, and his eyes were wide, frozen as they stared at each other; Woody felt rather than saw his taut, lanky body, and then Woody felt his entire body and mind become immersed, saturated, with an entirely new sensation—more than desire, more than lust, more than love; it was a soul-rocking sense of belonging and unity. His body trembled; he felt the Caribbean boy tremble; and then with a sense of wonder and relief his felt his tingling ghost cock rapidly solidify, snapping into being, becoming hard and real, throbbing next to his own cock, two huge hard burning cocks throbbing in unison. Woody gasped, a thrill running up his spine, and simultaneously the Caribbean hunk gasped, and looked down flabbergasted—not at Woody’s crotch but his own tightly packed and suddenly straining basket. He immediately glanced up, and a multitude of emotions were in his eyes—and one of them was an uncomprehending panic. He shook his head very slightly, unable to process what was happening, and then suddenly turned and ran, vanishing out the door.
“Hey!” Woody shouted, feeling like something had been wrenched from his chest. This can’t be good, he thought anxiously. He ran out the exit, dodging a couple of gym rats determined to get his attention, and burst out onto the sidewalk, his thumming cocks tingling in the cold night air.
The street was deserted, apart from a jock in a tanktop and camouflage pants leaning against the side of the building smoking. Woody turned to him desperately. “Did you see a guy run out of here?” he said.
But the guy was staring at the obvious outline of two enormous cocks thrusting up out of his baggy jeans and jumping against his CK tee shirt. His mouth was hanging open, clearly enthralled.
Exasperated, Woody turned away. “Wait, I’ll help you look for him!” said the guy, dropping his cigarette and running to catch up with Woody. Woody glanced over at him as they walked down the little downtown street; he was looking up at Woody, filled with lust, his eyes constantly dropping to his bobbing cocks. “What does he look like?”
Woody considered telling him to get lost, but decided he really did need help. If he and that boy were supposed to be together, some kind of cosmic imbalance might result if it didn’t happen.
He looked over at the guy in the tanktop and smiled winningly. “He’s Caribbean, light brown skin, very smooth and lanky, wearing a green shirt and gray pants,” he said. “And,” he added, lowering his voice, “he’s got two cocks too.”
The tanktop guy panted a little, then started looking around vigilantly, wiping his mouth every once in a while with one hand and rubbing something in his pocket with the other.
At the intersection they came upon two blonds making out under the streetlamp. “Hey,” said the tanktop guy. They broke their kiss and glanced over at their accosters sharply; but their irritation at being interrupted drained as the caught sight of Woody. “I’m looking for another guy like him,” said the tanktop guy, “but Caribbean, wearing a green shirt. Seen him?”
The couldn’t take their eyes off Woody. For his part Woody realized he was starting to transform. His already tight tee shirt was starting to feel skin tight, especially across the chest and shoulders, and it had started to draw up, exposing midriff—and a few inches of both of his palm-wide shafts—above jeans that suddenly seemed no really so very baggy. He felt the tickle of hair on his traps as his raven hair curled and waved. He brought a hand up to his pecs and ran it across them, feeling them throbbing in time to his cocks. His boots were suddenly feeling tight—he hadn’t thought about what big and beautiful feet Loren and Rowan had. Damn, he had to find this guy soon!
“We saw him,” said one of the blonds.
“He was heading for Splash,” said the other, gesturing down the street with his head. They were caressing each other as they started at the slowly transforming Woody, mesmerized, as if they were stroking themselves.
“C’mon!” said tanktop guy.
They hurried down the street. Along the way they collected four or five more guys, all entranced by Woody’s bod. They all went into the club together.
The club was packed with hot guys, but they all turned and looked at Woody as he entered, everyone reacting with pure lust as they closed around him. Several dozen hands relieved Woody of his now-painfully tight tee (and each others’ as well) and began gently caressing his torso, gasping as they felt the swelling, throbbing muscles of this arms, his shoulders—those who could reach—and his chest, many of the hands drifting onto his massive, surging cocks.
Woody found he was now tall enough he could see over the crowd, but it was the tanktop jock, jumping up to see over the lust-enthralled throng, who spotted him first. “There he is!” he said, grabbing Woody’s straying attention.
Thrusting out of the crowd were the head and shoulders—much broader shoulders—of the Caribbean hunk, and around him was teeming a coterie of young guys, much as those surrounding Woody. His head was thrown back; his confusion was melting into deeper feelings, and Woody felt them even across the room. The tanktop jock started moving guys aside, making a path for Woody to get to him. They barely noticed him, drawn as they were to the two transforming men.
Suddenly the Caribbean man sensed Woody’s presence, for he looked up, and their eyes met. Woody moved toward him, bursting into a great smile, and the mate did the same, flashing a brilliant smile. They drew toward each other through the crowd. The pace of their change quickened: now their entire shoulders and half their pecs were visible above the throng, and they looked like they were wading through a sea of men. Now everyone drew back, awed and aware that these two were of a kind, meant for each other, and they drew back, forming a circle around them, enthralled and aroused, pressing against each other, caressing each other’s broad backs and muscular arms and bubble butts, as they drank in the physical metamorphosis before them. Both of them were growing, expanding, pouring on muscle, stretching every cell, becoming hotter and more sensual before their eyes as they finally stood before each other, themselves amazed by the spectacle but more than that feeling the power of their attachment, their unity, a bond between their swelling bodies and growing souls.
Woody bit his lip, taking in his lover, his soulmate. There was no doubt his body was spectacular—it had taken to the growth in muscle even more than Woody, who had been solidly built to start; now he was surpassing him in bulk, putting it on like water. They were still growing, standing over 18 inches taller than the tallest in the crowd, though he was a little taller now, and their muscles were still growing as well, yet their impossibly muscled bodies were exquisitely well proportioned and profoundly sexy. Evidently his mate had had a largish cock to begin with, for now his twin wide uncut cocks had shot up past Woody’s and now pressed urgently against his massively heavy pecs.
Somehow the rest of their clothes had gone away; they looked down to see long muscular legs and large long-toed feet, then they looked up and held each other’s gaze for a long time, sinking into each other. The power of their sensuality filled the room; every man there was taken in by it.
As one they reached out and wrapped a hand around one cock of their own and one cock of the other’s. The cocks pounded in their hands for a moment, and then they drew together and kissed, slowing stroking the cocks, as a shudder of pleasure ran through the crowd. The kiss turned deeper, and then without even realizing it their mouths were wrapped around each other’s cocks, slowly stroking with four hands, their bodies still percolating, moving as one, a harmonious unified entity entwined upon itself, consisting of two bodies radiating raw sexuality, beings of pure sexuality.
Their lovemaking increased in intensity, their magnificent bodies writhing together, but they were already so tremendously aroused that it built to fever pitch within minutes, bringing the crowd along with it, until after ecstatic moments of holding back the two lovers exploded together, shooting with four cocks, covering massive pecs and bursting shoulders with load after load of cum—and the entire room, saturated with the sex gods’ unstoppable sexuality, came as if like the bursting of a dam, kissing and groping the hottie next to them. The two lovers collapsed onto each other, laughing, exhausted, sated, and fulfilled, still holding onto one cock of their own and one of the other’s’ the powerful cocks still hard and dribbling cum.
Woody took a hand from his cock and massaged some cum into his lover’s dense, heavy pecs, and laughed again. He felt huge and wonderful and part of something grand. He wondered if he was bigger than Joshua now—he felt bigger than Loren, bigger than anyone—though a glance at his lover (Jean-Paul? How did he know that?)—reminded him that at least one person was bigger. He didn’t care, he was happy. He wondered what else could happen to him.