Description Everyone in Portia, Alaska has been grown thicker and stronger and made irresistibly beautiful, but none more than the teens in the high school. Geek genius Mr. Lewis tries to roll back the most extreme changes in Mr. Casey’s class as a test case, but the trial doesn’t go anywhere near as planned.
|Updated||27 Jul 2018|
Mr. Casey was shuffling through his notes as he walked into the classroom, so he didn't see Adam Burke's enormous cock draped carefully across the threshold. Of course he tripped spectacularly over the huge heavy thing, tossing his notes up in the air and nearly faceplanting on the room's hardwood floor. Fortunately he was able to grab the edge of his desk and catch himself from falling, as the entire class laughed hilariously.
“Very funny, guys,” Mr. Casey said as he righted himself. The class was still laughing. He had half a mind to write some detentions, but with the Changes the boys had been going through the staff had been advised to let them have the occasional outlet for fun. He sighed and started picking up his notes, and Adam and a few of his friends, apparently to show there was not malice involved, got up to help, dragging their arm-thick cocks around after them, their kneelength kilts looking vaguely ridiculous as they hid only the roots of their 2-liter-bottle-thick phalluses.
Mr. Casey nodded up to the 7-foot-tall hypercocked musclehunks as stacked his papers on the desk, and Adam and the others retreated to their seats grinning. “All right, everyone, you know the drill. Cocks coiled and under your seats. You too, Justin.” Most of the boys already had their six-inch-wide cocks stowed like they were supposed to, but Justin had his tossed over his bulging bare shoulder.
“It is!” protested Justin Lake, and Mr. Casey moved to where he could see. Sure enough, Justin's cock fell to the floor behind Justin's back and the last few feet were, as he said, coiled under the seat.
Mr. Casey frowned. He wasn't sure why the suddenly contaminated groundwater from a burst pipe at the long-abandoned chemical plant in this completely isolated Alaska town (Portia, Alaska, pop. 634) was affecting everyone differently, but he'd thought until recently it was based on age. Post-pubescent teens were getting a massive effect, people in their 20s a much more moderate level of Change (so that 27-year-old Everett Casey had transformed only a bit—compared to his students, anyway; at least he could still keep his junk in his pants, and the kids literally could not, even if they could still wear pants), and everyone over 30 slowly regressing to an insanely buff 29. But Mr. Casey had been seeing first-hand that some of the teens, even though they were the same age, had been affected in markedly different ways.
Speaking of which—“Both cocks under the seat, Brian.”
“But they won't both fit,” whined Brian Sussex. His second cock was in fact coiled in the lap of the boy next to him, Joshua Brant, who was resting a wide hand on the thick, heavy borrowed organ in his lap and sporting a contented grin. “Besides, I like it when Josh holds it.” He flushed heavily.
“He can hold it after class. Under the seat,” Mr. Casey insisted. He felt a little bad. The obvious impracticality of their giant cocks was, for these boys, more than made up for by how pleasurable any kind of tactile sensation was along every square inch of these giant phalluses. Just resting against a hard surface like the floor was like a warm caress. Coiled up, cock skin against cock skin, was a constant stimulation, like having a hard-on a quarter-inch away from a willing mouth. And the soft stroke of a strong hand—even on a flaccid hypercock—was like the next-to-last stroke of a slowly building jack-off—the stroke just before the one that sends you over.
He'd heard, too, the real kicker: the longer the cock, the more powerful the sensation. These boys may have cocks too big for fucking, but they were aching for more, not less. They'd grow their cocks even bigger if they could. Even Justin, with his 10-foot cock, wanted more, he was sure.
Brian sighed and hauled his second cock off Josh's lap. It fell to the floor with a thump. Mr. Casey shook his head and sat on the edge of the desk, pondering the variations like Justin's and Brian’s. Faster mutation seemed to be happening among former jocks in all age groups. Double dicks, though, were only common in his 20-something group—he and most of the guys he worked out with had doubled their junk (in quantity and size)—but he was glad only a few of the teens had had it happen to them.
He tried to shift his mind toward actual content. “Okay, now today we're going to talk about—” he began, only to be interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway.
Mr. Casey looked over, as did the class. Jordan Lewis, the grad student who'd been visiting Portia when the mutations started and was now researching them alongside some retired chemists from the old plant (who lately looked 40 instead of 70), was standing in the doorway. For some reason, despite the fact that he was 23, the mutations had been affecting him almost as if he were a teenager, and he'd adopted the mandatory teen gear of kilt-and-nothing-else even though his muscles weren't that much bigger than Mr. Casey’s, and his four-inch-wide cock didn't quite touch the floor. He was also really hot, with a beautiful face and dark, penetrating eyes. Mr. Casey felt a rush of attraction and was once again glad for the subaural anti-boner sound waves that kept the school from erupting into a chaos of semen and sex all day every day.
He was studying Jordan's musclebound alabaster marble torso and suddenly noticed that Jordan had a ten-pack, just like most of the teens. When did that happen?
“Hello, Mr. Casey, class,” Jordan said, nodding to Casey and the boys.
“Hello, Mr. Lewis,” some of the class replied randomly, with small smiles. Each of them had been sent to see Jordan in his field office by the soccer field, where he conducted very thorough examinations of the extent of their mutations. The field office was just outside the range of the anti-boner field.
“Before classes begin today,” Jordan continued formally, “we’ve selected your class for something special. We're going to conduct a trial run of a new sound frequency wave—something we hope will, just possibly, roll back the mutations.”
“Awww!” whined the boys, this time in unison.
Jordan pretended not to hear this. He pressed a button his remote and said confidently, “Here we go!”
The students braced themselves glumly, and Mr. Casey sat down on his desk, wondering if he'd be affected as well. He hoped so. Or—did he? His cocks twitched in his baggy, open-cuffed pantaloons.
A soft tone sounded, seeming to reverberate through the air, the building, his body, everything—and suddenly it felt as though two strong hands had grabbed his cocks and were pulling on them, hard—in a way that felt, great, like there was more cock packed inside him that needed to be pulled, inch by inch by inch by inch out of his body and into freedom.
His vision was blurry but he could see boys arrayed before him were feeling it too. They were panting and flushed like him, their cocks still completely soft but twitching, trying to get hard—
Suddenly Mr. Casey felt it—the pulling—it was working!! The soft tone thrummed through his cocks as they slowly unspooled—he could feel the thrum thickening them just a bit too—
He tried to ignore how pleasant the thrum was in his cocks, and he realized his muscle felt it too—his pecs were thrumming thicker too. And his shoulders and his upper arms and—
Someone moaned wildly and he refocused with some difficulty on the boys. They were all writhing, visible wider in the shoulders than before and with pecs like volleyballs, and their cocks—
Fuck! The floor of the classroom was covered with arm-sized cock, writhing, lengthening, intertwining—!!
He was barely able to concentrated, but he turned his head toward Jordan. The pale, musclebound grad student was immersed in his own sensations, not even noticing what was going wrong, his own cock steadily coiling up on its own between his enlarged soccer boy legs, more cock pulling out of his kilt at like an inch a second.
“Jordan!” he managed to call out. Jordan seemed to focus, looking on the cock-covered classroom floor with amazement. With some difficulty he lifted the remote up, creating a perfect softball bicep, and clicked something on it.
But it didn't stop. Instead the soft tone switched to a different, lower pitch that shuddered through Mr. Casey like a really loud, low bass line at a concert. He gasped. It felt like more, stronger hands on his cocks. Everyone else grunted too, like they were all thirty seconds from cumming. He felt like he was being pulled at all over, dividing, multiplying like cells. The thrum seemed to be shaking his vision, shaking his body, he felt hands all over his muscular torso, many hands, his own hands—“JORDAN!” he yelled, not even seeing the marble boy.
A second longer of that feeling of being pulled, and then—nothing. It stopped.
Mr. Casey panted. He was staring straight ahead, but now he could see.
The room was full of dazed musclebound teen giants. A lot more full. They were bigger. No, there was more of them. No, it was both.
They were up to their knees in cock.
The room was a sea of jumbled, endless leg-sized cock, four feet deep, including all around his desk, a flood of cock lapping at his knees where he sat on the edge of the desk. It was impossible to tell what was whose—it seemed to be miles of continuous cock. Even his own cocks, now as thick as the boys’ had been before, big enough to rip open the seams on his pantaloons dove into the throbbing pile and lost themselves amidst their aroused-but-flaccid brethren.
He did a double take. There were four monster phalluses emerging from his crotch. Fuck.
He glanced around. All the other boys had doubled their cocks too, those whose crotches he could see above the mass of cock. He glanced at Brian. It looked like he had a more than two now. A lot more than two. Wait—there were also two Brians. He'd twinned. So had a few of the others.
He reached toward a random length of cock that emerged from the tangle and then dove back into it and casually stroked it. He heard a moan from the back of the room—Justin. Damn, how much of this pile was Justin and Brian?
He realized he was stroking with one of three right hands. Holy shit. He did a quick double-take on the still-dazed boys. Only a few of them had six bulging arms like him. The rest had just four.
Mr. Casey turned and gave Jordan a very pointed look. He looked very hot, up to his waist in cock as thick as his waist. Jordan shrugged with all eight arms. “It should have worked,” he said defensively. Jordan turned his broad back on him and started trying to extract himself, his exertion eliciting random moans from around them room—including, at one point, from Casey. Damn, my cock is all the way over by the door? Shit!
Jordan finally pulled himself free with a somersault out into the empty hallway. He stood, brushed himself off, and then laboriously pulled one ten-foot cock out of the pile, then another. Then the third. By the time Jordan was done he looked like he'd had ten near-orgasms. He turned and started to walk off, dragging his cocks behind him.
“Wait—can you get someone to take away these chairs?” Mr. Casey said. “I think we'll be more comfortably lying down.”
Justin woke gently from a blissful dream, in which he’d been floating on a literal sea of cock, with a vague sense of regret. But his wistful, foggy yen to return to his reverie rapidly dissipated as he gradually returned to a reality even better than his dream.
He was lying face-down on a throbbing, shifting, vast expanse of warm, living, thriving, leg-thick cock. Firm, gigantified cock muscle warmed his right cheek and pressed against his generously muscled arms, legs, and torso. Justin smiled, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in the impossible pleasure.
In his dream he’d possessed miles of cock, which somehow became seemingly infinite cock, Earth’s miles-deep oceans filled not with water but with an endless supply of Justin-cock. Just the idea was enough even within the dream to give him series of orgasms so huge that the land masses of Earth were blanketed with five feet of cum.
But, awake, Justin felt his two mutant cocks emerge from his body and then twist through the pulsing, intertwining mass of a couple dozen other boys’ cocks nearly as long as his. Even with his eyes still closed he could sense his cockheads at opposite ends of the school’s Olympic-sized pool. It wasn’t an Atlantic Ocean of Justin-cock, and the swimming pool filled with cock wasn’t even all his, but it was still unbelievably hot, and he felt a throb of arousal pound through his 40-foot phalluses. Almost involuntarily he pushed with his hips, feeling his cocks slide through the mass of other cocks, and without really meaning to he fell into a rhythm of very slow, shallow humping.
Justin decided that it was cool, after all, that it wasn’t all his. After the new dose of uber-mutation his class gotten yesterday afternoon thanks to Jordan Lewis’s as-wrong-as-it-could-be attempt to return him and his fellow hypercocked 7-foot-tall teen studs to the normality they’d left behind when the contaminated town water supply had started changing everyone (instead rapidly augmenting them all even more), he’d been half excited and half alarmed about taking his new equipment home, outside the anti-boner field of the school, and trying it out—what would his cocks even be like if they could get hard?
But Mr. Casey had conferred with the other teachers and decided that his class—the only group who’d been uber-mutated by Mr. Lewis’s test run—should stay overnight at the school while Mr. Lewis came up with a new plan. It had been Justin’s idea to move from the classroom, half-filled with 25 teens’ suddenly endless cocks pressing up against desks and bookshelves and walls with flaking paint and radiators and everything, and instead go down and fill the empty swimming pool down in the basement with cock. The others were wowed by the idea and readily agreed.
It had turned out to be really easy to get down to the pool: everyone tossed their cocks over their own broad shoulders, and the person behind would carry the shafts near the head. They turned out to be really heavy, but then, their muscles had not only expanded but condensed—they were all now not only gorgeously muscled but ten times as strong as they looked.
And as soon as they’d started their expedition they’d drawn a curious and helpful crowd of admiring and envious fellow students, helping to carry (and feel up) their gargantuan cocks, dragging their own neglected non-uber-mutated 7-foot cocks behind them.
Justin, his eyes still comfortably closed, realized that all four of his beautiful, thickly muscled arms were wrapped casually around some of the cocks he was lying on, and as he gently humped his cocks he began slowly moving his big, six-fingered hands, caressing whatever insanely thick shafts he was embracing. He heard a few stray moans from around him, and somewhere a hand started caressing one of his own mutant cocks. He got his big, disproportionately large feet into the act too, caressing the cockshafts they were resting against, prompting more moans from all around him. Someone nearby shifted one of his hands onto Justin’s impossibly tight, hard ass, and he playfully clenched his butt for whoever it was.
As soon as he’d started actively, if gently, caressing the cocks that made up the expanse of phallus he was laying on he realized that these thick, firm cocks were slightly slick—in fact he was slightly slick too, as if everything had been lightly doused with a natural lube. He finally decided to open an eye, and saw amid the cozy warm jumble of shaft there was a cockhead nearby, and it was steadily oozing a clear substance. Now that he was aware of what to look for Justin could sense that his own distant cockheads were drooling precum too. They couldn’t bone up thanks to the anti-boner field, but they were still aroused. And now they were a classfull of ubercocked teens (plus respectably hyper admirers who’d stayed and added their own cocks to the lake of cock), naked, lusciously muscled, and lubed head to toe with their own constant supply of precum lube.
Justin laughed. Had he woken up from the dream?
A very handsome face turned toward him: Josh Brant, who’d been the lucky one who usually got to hold Brian’s second cock, back in that strange yesteryear, which was only yesterday, when there’d been only one Brian and he’d had only two cocks. Josh yawned adorably, just waking up, his dark dusting of morning bristles contrasting beautifully with his soccer-boy tan and pale gray eyes—but half-awake though he might be his six muscle arms were already cuddling and stroking an equal number of massive shafts. (Someone else must be fondling my ass, then, Justin thought.) Josh caught sight of Justin and grinned a huge, toothy grin. Justin grinned back. Their faced were only a few inches apart, so they both shifted forward and their lips touched, and Josh spared a hand to wrap around Justin’s neck. They began kissing deeply, discovering in the process that they had abnormally long hot tongues that reveled in wrapping their lengths around each other.
As they kissed Justin and Josh became aware of more activity around them, as their classmates slid from erotic dream into impossibly erotic waking. The surface of the cock ocean he was lying on was in motion, as more and more guys started slowly humping their lightly lubed hyper cocks within the gently writhing mass. After a while Justin felt another mouth—and another long hot tongue—ministering to the side of his neck on the other side from Josh. He turned and felt a huge torrent of arousal at what he saw, pouring through his whole body and flushing down both his incredible cocks. It was another Josh—Justin hadn’t realized he’d been one of the ones who got twinned—and the grinning muscle hunk was standing in the rolling lake of cock, thick rolling shafts of leg-thick cock lapping against his massive spherical pecs, his precum-dampened face alone so entrancing as to force another torrential surge of arousal through Justin, inches away and filled with joyous lust for him—Justin, successful local model before the mutations, twice voted most beautiful boy in the entire school against stiff, so to speak, competition. If Josh was this hot now, Justin thought excitedly, how hot am I?
Justin could now tell that both his cocks were being stroked by hands and feet at a number of places along their length, each stroke an intense stimulation bordering on the orgasmic. Panting, Justin threw his mouth against the new Josh’s full, salty lips, plunging his long tongue into Josh’s mouth as Josh did the same, while the first Josh busied himself with kissing and licking Justin’s cum-slicked cheek and bristly jawline as a couple of his left hands stroked Justin’s wide, bulging upper back. Justin realized that even restrained by the sonic anti-boner wave from generating actual colossal hard-ons he was only seconds from a galactically massive orgasm.
Justin felt more mouths, tongues, and hands as others drifted toward their little group, and the increased intensity of the rolling cocks and roving hands and mouths told him that the others felt the same way he did. As he feverishly made out with Josh II he glanced past him and saw a knot of ten enormous classmates, including a couple of non-ubers pressed in the middle looking, if anything, even hotter for being a size smaller all over than the others. Some were standing, others floating on the rolling sea like Justin. All of them were making out with two guys at once and groping the surrounding cocks and each others’ godlike bods with way too many hands. He realized that both Brians were in that group, one lying on his back as if he couldn’t help showing off the six enormous cocks emerging from him, diving from his crotch into the writhing cock-sea.
Just then the two Joshes moved closer together, both kissing him at the same time, their long, hot, thick, rough tongues writhing and twining with his, and then he felt a big buck in the rolling cock-mass he was laying on just as four new hands grabbed his ass and legs and even more hands started stroking his cocks somewhere, and the extra stimulation caused him to burst, his suddenly massive balls pounding gallons of cum down his thick, dense, 40-foot cocks, and his orgasm surged through the entire pool like a massive electric shock, and in a second both Joshes were screaming with ecstasy even as they kissed Josh harder than ever, and from all around him Justin heard uncontrollable screams of pleasure erupt like vocal volcanoes, and the cock-sea was tossing, surging uncontrollably, and Justin felt himself being covered with hot thick cum even as he unexpectedly started cumming again, harder, draining himself physically and emotionally. His mind drifted into a pleasant trace for quite a long time, comfortably aware that he was drifting along with his Joshes and all the other boys.
As his mind floated he thought he heard the distant, awed voice of Mr. Lewis: “They weren’t supposed to be able to do that…”
They spent the entire morning that way, experiencing together—almost as a single gestalt uber-bodied, uber-cocked entity—a constant slow, rhythmic, relentless ebb and flow of low-level mutual stimulation cresting inexorably to euphoric, cataclysmic orgasms. They were luxuriating, randy as only young men with ramped up bodies and cocks can be, delirious with pleasure, reveling in a churning sea of their own endless, leg-thick cocks. Their arousal was mounting moment by intense moment like the unstoppable forces of the tide, as their jizz-slick bodies and cocks measured in fucking feet slid and rubbed against each other like a natural, primeval force. The sensations built inexorably until suddenly they all started cumming like one mighty endorphic storm, blowing each other’s minds as they kissed and licked and stroked and exploded in a universe-shattering moment of shared carnal ecstasy. Then, as they relaxed into each other’s many slippery, thick-muscled arms and into the sea of writhing, spunk-slick cock that was threatening to overflow the massive, Olympic-size swimming pool, they fell back into a dreamy, comfortable leisure of mild groping and the simple pleasure of their impossible lengths of barely restrained phallus, every inch more sensitive than the most desperate hard-on of the horniest normal teenager in the world. And the slow, churning cycle began again, all of them drifting together toward another slow-building, world-stopping eruption of unimaginable joy.
Justin was in fucking heaven. Like all the other ubers from Mr. Casey’s unexpectedly superaugmented class, he was gathered in a small cluster of guys who were devoting themselves to each other’s pleasure. He’d awoken lying face down after spending the night floating on the surface of everyone’s enormous dicks (including his own, which constituted more than his fair share of the jism-coated cock-sea around them). But he’d managed to shift himself, sliding his huge and impossibly sexy body in among the massive cocks that wound around them until he was more or less submerged, and now Justin was engaged in a near-constant make-out session with the two uncannily beautiful Josh twins. They were so close that their heavy, oversized pecs rubbed liquidly against each other as they kissed languidly and then passionately, in pairs or all three together, his four big hands eagerly roaming their slippery, hard-muscled upper bodies while the two rakishly handsome Joshes and three more guys behind him did their best to slide strong hands and probing fingers across every available inch of his slick, huge-muscled, ultra-sensitive body and as much of his two colossal cocks as were within reach—and that was just a fraction of just how much endless Justin-dick was available to feed overpowering pleasure into his reeling, sex-drunk brain. Every foot of his slick, coiling, foot-wide shafts was being stroked by strong, eager students somewhere along their colossal lengths, and both his dodgeball-huge cockheads had been discovered at opposite ends of the pool and were being diligently lathed and stroked by several talented tongues and hands.
But somewhat to his surprise it was the kissing that was turning Justin’s crank in a big way. He never wanted to stop kissing Josh and Josh, feeling the press of their sweet lips as the three of them twined their long tongues together. Their beard-dusted chins and jaws brushing close against each other as they made out, bristles softened by the sheen of cum that covered all of them head to toe. The kissing capped sensations Justin could never have imagined, and the convergence of impossible pleasure seemed to stop time, suspending Justin and the rest of them in a perfect moment. He never wanted not to be kissing Josh and his new twin, and he never wanted not to know just how almost unbearably awesome it was for his dicks to be sliding and shifting everywhere in this wriggling mass of slippery leg-thick cock and equally cum-slick, god-muscled, giant, multi-armed and multi-endowed Adonises. Feeling his enormous tools moving and churning in this heady, living sea of cock, rubbing everywhere along dozens of feet of tender expanse against other uber-cocks, some darker, some thicker, all seeming to crave every possible touch was only improved on by the feeling of hands, and feet, and chests and asses and even faces and tongues ministering lazily or fervently in so many different places on his dicks it almost felt like he was experiencing a single mighty blow-job from a mouth big enough to take all of his two colossal cocks.
Justin’s mind filled with images like as he kissed one Josh with hungry abandon, the other lathing and kissing his strong neck and bulging traps while their long, nimble hands groped his broad back and perfect muscle ass under the surface of the cock-sea, and he sank into them with abandon. Just imagining his twin tools, each the size of six ordinary men and, since there was no anti-boner field in his fantasy, completely and unbearably iron hard, his towering shafts disappearing between the full, curving lips of some beautiful, cocky, skyscraper-huge lover—was so overwhelming that Justin was suddenly hurled over the edge and started rocking in heart-shattering orgasm right in the middle of what had turned back into a hot three-way kiss with his Josh twins. They felt it too, thrilling in erotic sympathy with him and suddenly exploding in hot, crashing orgasm. They panted hotly into each other’s gaping mouths as they came again and again, their eruptions massive and uncontrollable. Their sweaty, cum-damp foreheads pressed together as they shook with desperate, overpowering pleasure. They clung urgently to each other’s massive, bulging shoulders, and they kept cumming, harder and harder, and soon the orgasm was spreading like a cascading car crash through all the ubers, the shocking pleasure of pulsing, exploding orgasms communicating among them and back to the still-cumming Justin through the medium of their mingled cock-sea sliding all around them from chest to ass to wiggling feet, driving Justin unexpectedly into a new and even more powerful release that shuddered over and over again through every uber there and beyond, to nearly a quarter-mile radius. Someone’s shaking, orgasming cockhead was very near Justin’s tight, round muscle ass a few feet under the surface of the cock-sea, and it was blasting him with hot jizz so hard as they all came together, Justin pounding out more seed himself than he thought humanity had created so far in the entire horny history of humanity, that Justin felt almost like he was being fucked just by the force of a hot cum-geyser as forceful as a firehose.
Justin felt like he lost a few moments, his senses swamped with the intensity of the shared uberexplosion, until it finally started to subside, shouts and moans becoming murmurs and gentle, amazed laughter all around him. He felt his own smile against the two Josh’s irrepressible grins as they huffed together, their shared white-hot euphoria slowly softening to simple, steady, heart-lifting ecstasy. He looked into their eyes as the three of them clasped each other firmly around their shoulders as if they’d never let go, meeting the gaze of first one then the other, as they slowly came down from the most intense experience of their young lives.
The two Joshes beamed back at him as Justin considered their long lashes and high-cheekboned beauty, all the more sweet for being smeared with spunk, new contributions adding to what was already there. Josh was darker than Justin in both hair and coloring, his tanned, amber skin and close-cropped charcoal-black hair hinting at a Maori grandfather whose crazy exploits Josh had often talked about, though his bright blue eyes reflected his northern European ancestry. What was always most noticeable about Josh was his exuberance, always seeming keen and ready to go—especially if it involved getting away with something. Both Joshes were even more beautiful than before, even if you only considered their gorgeous faces with their matching shit-eating grins; and the rest of them was beyond compare. Their proportions had been just about perfect before, and now they weren’t just larger and augmented with extra size and extra limbs—the two Joshes had both been leveled up in their beauty, the very image of how a sculptor would shape, in living, moving flesh and bone, the most uncannily beautiful four-armed muscle teen there could possible ever be. Justin had always appreciated Josh’s beauty, but now, as he gazed into their shining, knowing eyes each in turn, he felt something unexpected flutter inside him, something that had very little to do with the way the Joshes were stroking his back and shoulders as they embraced each other, or the constant stimulation he was experiencing along his never-slumbering dicks. He pressed his face in between theirs to lick a little cum off of first one Josh’s cheek, then the other. The Joshed laughed quietly together, and Justin pulled back to rest their foreheads together again, since that was truly where he wanted to be, their warm, slick bodies and strong hands and flushed, smiling faces touching everywhere, as much as possible.
“Looks like we’ll have to get you guys another Seahawks hat,” Justin said with a smile. Josh was an ardent fan of the Seattle football team, having originally grown up in Seattle and only moving to Portia as a seventh-grader, and he was seldom seen out of school without his well-worn Seahawks hat. The hat was currently in Josh’s locker, where it normally waited for the final bell of the day. Justin had a weird image of the hat waiting through the dark night on its shelf in the locker, wondering what had happened to Josh and trying not to think that maybe Josh had forgotten it. “Too bad they don’t allow hats in school,” he said, “or it might have duped with your other clothes,” he added.
The Josh on Justin’s left shrugged his massive shoulders, grinning. “Fuck the hat,” he said, clearly enjoying having other priorities.
The other Josh smacked him playfully up the back of his head. “Speak for yourself, dude!” he said, in mock indignation. “That hat is sacred,” he told Justin. “And I’m not sharing,” he added, in the direction of his “brother”.
“We’ll see,” the first Josh said equably.
Justin moved his head between theirs again and nuzzled the second Josh’s neck. “You guys had better learn how to share,” he said in a low, growly voice, “because I want you both.”
“Yes, please,” they both said. It was practically Josh’s catch phrase, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising for them both to have said it now; but Justin was caught off guard by the two Joshes talking in unison after just having asserted their independence from each other and laughed loudly. The Joshes grinned back at him, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was very hungry.
“I wonder if they’re going to serve us lunch here, or—?” he started to say, but he didn’t get any further as the principal—now a very handsome, lightly bearded lumberjack type apparently in his late twenties, dressed in a tightly packed white dress shirt open at the collar and equally well-packed dark slacks—called for their attention.
“Gentlemen!” Mr. Murdock called out to them, his voice echoing a little in the tile-walled space. Justin and the others looked up to where he stood by the pool of swole men and swollen cocks, arms spread and hands facing outward like a king addressing a murmuring senate. Quiet conversations tailed off as he began to speak, though Justin was sure he could still hear someone moaning very, very quietly somewhere not far behind him. There were a few teachers gathered around him, Justin saw, and several other students pulled from other classes. They were gazing out at the guys in the pool with awe, looking small somehow despite their massive size, towering over even the muscle-augmented, model-hot staffers and the possible tree-hefting Murdock. All the guys in Portia had been improved by the strange transformations, the teens more than most—but now there were two groups of teens. Most of them were the way Justin had been yesterday—the regular hyperjocks, seven feet tall, jacked with muscle, with six- or seven-foot arm-thick cocks. And then there were Casey’s boys. They weren’t just hypers. They were ubers. They’d grown huger, hotter, and hornier than Justin had dreamed possible even once he’d started noticing they were all growing, and growing, and growing.
Justin shook his head as the tried to focus on Murdock. “—going to send you all home for a few days,” the brawny, glinting-eyed principal was saying. This elicited a few groans and playful boos. The principal ignored them. “We have to sort things out,” he continued. “We’re going to try to come up with either a way of reversing your, well, extra augmentation—” (more groans and a shout of “No way!” from someone Justin thought sounded like Brian Sussex, who’d apparently gotten more than anyone out of yesterday’s unscheduled upgrades) “—or else some new paradigm of study that will still be effective even given your new, well, distractions. In the meantime,” he added quickly, as if to override objections to either fork of the plan, “you all need to go home.”
“How?” Justin heard himself say, his warm baritone voice ringing in the large, enclosed space. As soon as he’d started thinking about food and the possibility of needing to get to the cafeteria, he’d been considering the logistics of operating outside this wonderful sea of cock. “It’s not like we can walk anywhere very easily with—” he went on, but Murdock broke in.
“Arrangements have been made,” the burly young principal told them all confidently. “Now, climb out, everybody. One at a time, because we have to take some measurements.”
It was a while before it was Justin’s turn to make his way through the cock-sea and try to clamber up to tile flooring around the pool, but in the meantime it was fascinating to watch the others as they were helped out of the pool and with the slow process of hauling their bridge-cable-thick phalluses out of the squirming mass of hot, slippery cocks and men. A couple of the coaches were taking measurements of height, chest size, and so on, calling out the stats to the alabaster Mr. Lewis, who was standing to one side making notes on his tablet and still deemed flustered a day later by what had happened to the boys and his own augmentations. Meanwhile, someone had found a long coil of rope and painted off black marks every foot, and the ubers’ incredible cocks were being measured to the nearest six inches or so. They wanted to weigh the ubers too, as Mr. Lewis had a theory that they were unusually dense, but they didn’t have anything that could be used to weigh guys as huge and strong as they were.
Justin watched in awe with the two Joshes flanking him on either side, their arms around each others’ shoulders, as numbers were called out and the other boys whooped and cheered as each of them was dismissed to the showers. They’d already been seven-foot hypercocked muscle hunks before what had happened the day before, but Justin was flabbergasted to hear height measurements in three digits—102 inches tall, 108 inches tall—nine feet!—and even higher. Jackson Inoki topped out at 122 inches—over ten fucking feet tall! Jackson, still looking lithe and limber as always despite his added height and bulk, beamed cockily down at them, and all the guys gave him a hooting, whistling ovation as he wandered back to the showers, his round ass wriggling playfully atop the longest, hottest legs ever.
The cocks were the real surprise, though. As teams of hyperjock student volunteers happily pulled and hoisted the ubers’ massive, heavy cocks from out of the mass of cock and flopped them onto the tile by the pool as their owners moaned and closed their eyes, enjoying all the touch and friction, it kept turning out that their cocks were all much, much longer than they’d thought. They were all at least four armed and two-dicked, now, but several of them had six arms and Justin was surprised to see that more than a few of them had three hypercocks, not just two. And many of these cocks were turning out to be upwards of 40 feet, the length Justin had pegged for his own cocks. It was a little disconcerting, and Justin realized as he watched in amazement that he was a little jealous of his fellow students. Ever since he’d shot up at puberty with a growth spurt of accompanying blooming of muscle and beauty (and, though it was known only to a few, cock) so dramatic it had been the talk of the town for weeks, Justin had been comfortably aware of being easily hotter than all of his peers and everyone else in Portia. He was hot enough for a modeling contract before all this started. And his dick had always been the biggest by a long shot (so to speak), as he’d managed to prove to any given group of curious students on more than one occasion.
And while Justin was not what you’d call conceited, and took great pride in never having let himself become a tool over his dazzling looks and other physical blessings, he realized now in a moment of uncomfortable clarity that he was kind of used to knowing he was the top dog. He gasped without meaning to at the final tallies for both Brians’ six humungous cocks each—they ranged between 38 and a half and 45 feet long! Then Justin felt the Josh on his left grip him hard around the shoulders and around his waist with his two right hands. A heartbeat later the other Josh, perhaps catching a signal from the first or coming the same end independently, did the same.
“You’re still the hottest guy here,” the Josh on his left whispered into his ear.
“Yeah,” the other one agreed. “And also: Dude, get over yourself,” he added.
“Yes, please,” the first one joked.
“Fuck off,” Justin laughed, squeezing them both against his sides, but he felt better.
Actually, he need not have worried.
When it was his turn to climb out, with the enthusiastic help of several strong hyperjock students, by the time he was standing squarely on his own two massive feet he’d already been measured with very gratifying results. His height was 114 inches tall, positioning him as bigger than almost everyone but Jackson, and his chest, upper arms, thighs, and calves were all top of the class so far or very close. And his cocks—!
“Well?” Mr. Lewis called out, when the guys in charge of lining up the ropes against his dicks failed to sing out the final measurements after a few moments.
There was a pregnant pause, then the hyper that was doing the measuring out at the far end of his huge, meandering cocks finally spoke up. Justin recognized him as Adrian Rhodes, the limber, latte-skinned lacrosse team captain and one of the select few who’d managed to taste that cock back when it had been a very hefty 12½ inches hard. Justin thought Adrian looked good as a seven-and-a-half-foot hyperdicked musclehunk, not that he’d been bad-looking before. Adrian meanwhile, was looking back at them with wide eyes, staring not at Mr. Lewis but at Justin. “We’re out of rope,” Adrian rasped in wonder, his cheeks flaming, his own six-foot-long and very girthy dick twitching where it lay on the tile as if it desperately wanted to get hard, anti-boner field or no.
Fuck, Justin thought. Hadn’t someone said the rope was sixty feet long? A strange thought thrilled through him. We’re they growing when they were in the pool? He thought back. It had felt and looked more full this morning, the surface of the cock-sea lapping against the very top edge of the pool. And maybe—fuck, maybe he’d even felt a little bigger and stronger, but … he wasn’t sure. His attention had been elsewhere.
“Well, put your hand on his dick where the rope ends, then pull the rope the rest of the way,” instructed Mr. Lewis patiently.
“Oh. Yeah,” Adrian said. Justin felt Adrian’s warm hand press firmly against the sensitive flesh of his cock even way down there, not far from the enormous head, and Justin, already thinking of the times Adrian had gone down on him, suddenly wanted to swoon. Then Adrian’s voice broke into his thoughts. “S-sixty-five and half,” he called in a quavering. A couple of minutes later, with the rope repositioned, Adrian reported the second cock’s measurement. “Sixty-seven feet,” he announced. The number echoed as everybody—the ubers both in the pool and back from the showers, the hyperjock volunteers, the teachers and Murdock—stared at him in raw, excited astonishment.
The two Joshes, already out of the pool and waiting their turn to be measured, started chanting his name elatedly. “Jus-tin! Jus-tin! Jus-tin!” Their cheer was quickly picked up by the entire room. “Justin! Justin! Justin! Justin!”
Justin let the chorus wash over him, cheeks burning with delighted embarrassment as he grinned around at them. He took a solemn bow as they hooted and hollered for him, letting the humility that always came with praise gentle and comfort him deep inside every cell of his gigantic frame. Then he turned away from the throng of aroused and arousing men and sauntered contentedly back toward the showers, a hundred and thirty two and half feet of massive cock and several hyperjock shower-help volunteers trailing behind him along with the cheers.
Vincent woke to his phone ringing loudly on his bedside table. Fuck, it was Saturday, wasn’t it? He didn’t do Saturday mornings. He reached for the phone blearily with one of his left hands and answered the call without opening his eyes.
“Dude, I can’t get out of my room because of your damn cock,” came his cousin’s annoyed voice.
“Fuck, again?” Vincent grumbled. “Sorry, Cal.” Despite his grudging chagrin he remained as he was, lying still with his eyes firmly closed and phone still to his ear, trying to preserve the illusion that as long as he remained horizontal he didn’t really have to truly start his day or deal with the strangeness of his increasingly bizarre life. He enjoyed the warm, heavy feeling of his four volleyball-sized nuts resting on his hard thighs and thought about just hanging up on his cousin.
Cal, however, was only just getting started. He was sounding hot under the collar, except that of course Cal didn’t wear shirts with collars anymore, or shirts of any kind, for that matter. “You promised to keep all your junk up there on the third floor!” he huffed. “It’s all piled up down here, and—and I’m completely blocked in!”
“I know, I know,” Vincent said. “I’ve been trying to keep them coiled up up here, but they’ve been kind of… unwinding while I sleep.” Vincent generally tried not to think about how the floor of his own room and the other, empty bedroom next to his, which together took up the entire third floor of the old Victorian-style homestead, was piled high with pink, rubbery, sometimes pre-slick tree-trunk-diameter cock every night. It was carefully wound in loose coils by the same uncannily hot volunteers from the high school who carried his cocks around whenever he left the house, but… it tended not to stay that way.
Cal didn’t respond immediately, probably just standing there with that sexy scowl on his face as he stood glaring at the blocked exit to his room. With an inward sigh Vincent began the mental process of tracing the tactile sensations of his sprawling, leg-thick hypercocks. He had gotten pretty good at being able to tell where all of his seemingly endless cockflesh was in spatial reference to his body, but it took a while because he still had to start with the roots of his cocks, and, well, there was a lot of area to cover. He frowned as he followed the foot-thick shafts of his enormous, trouble-making cocks. Somewhere a lot of one of his cocks was exposed to a cool breeze of air, producing a kind of pleasant tingle—but that couldn’t be the cock that was causing mayhem and umbrage down in the second floor hallway where Cal was, so Vincent ignored the sensation for the moment.
“Wait—unwinding?” Cal repeated after a moment, catching up to what Vincent had said, and Vincent thought he sounded more apprehensive now than annoyed. “You mean—dude, are you growing again? Or are you just, you know, chubbing up in your sleep?”
“I dunno,” Vincent said, a bit exasperated. “At this point it’s hard to tell.” He paused. He could sense a cock that was twisting through the corridors on the floor below him. “Okay, yeah, I feel it,” he went on. “One of my guys must’ve tumbled downstairs last night.” He frowned to himself as he concentrated on the errant member, trying to ignore the comfortable erotic thrill of all his cockflesh pressed together. “That’s weird.”
“What?” his cousin said.
Vincent felt a twinge of unease in his stomach. Idly he started rubbing his tight fourteen-pack abs with one of his free left hands. “It feels like there’s…a lot of it down there,” he said with a strange sense of foreboding. “Like, a lot a lot.” He concentrated on the area near Cal’s room, which was right under his. There were places where his troublemaking cock had doubled back on itself and was pretty much filling up the narrow hallways—mainly, Vincent realized with a sinking feeling, right outside his cousin’s bedroom. He could picture what he was feeling, a tumbled pile of thick, heavy, twisting too-thick cock filling the space outside Cal’s doorway like someone had upended a truckload of giant, warm, touch-sensitive dick into the second-floor hallway. The image filled his brain and magnified the sensations starting to flood through him as his cocks all shifted, a lot more ready to wake up than he was.
He let another left hand start caressing his double row of thick pecs, each of them bigger than his head. The skin that stretched over his huge, ponderous muscles felt hard and taut, but also…sensitive, like his whole body was a little like the intensely sensitive cockflesh he had in superabundance, winding through the floors of his house like his godly hypercocks somehow needed to fill the space it was in. Whoa—that thought was, Vincent realized, a little scary. And very, very fucking hot.
“More than there should be, you mean,” Cal was saying, responding to what Vince had said. “Fuck, dude, you are growing again. Why are you growing again?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Vincent shot back. He felt a flutter of alarm. After his already record-breaking, measured-in-feet cocks had started into another unexpected growth spurt a few months ago, to the point where a few weeks later they’d doubled in length and thickness, that super-hot Jordan Lewis guy and his team of horny scientists had definitely told him that they’d stabilized his metabolism and there wouldn’t be any more growth. Of course he’d believed them. His wouldn’t have let his cousin move in after that otherwise.
Cal had only come for a visit, but despite scrupulously heeding all the warnings not to drink the water, or anything that might have been made with local water, Cal had mutated anyway. Boy, had Cal mutated. So he’d needed a place to stay, and if the docs hadn’t been sure Vincent had stopped growing they wouldn’t have risked it, and Cal wouldn’t have stayed with Vince’s family while he, you know, adjusted to his new body.
Clearly, though, the docs had been wrong. Shit, how much cock did Vincent have now? He still kept his eyes closed, though now more out of trepidation than drowsy procrastination; but he shifted the right hand that was rubbing his hard, brick-end abs down, inch by inch, to investigate the source of his troubles.
“Dude, if your cocks start filling up the fucking house…” Cal was saying, but Vincent was barely paying attention. His hand found his right crotch, between his right and middle legs, and then shifted over to the left crotch. He expelled a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Still only four of his monsters, two erupting from each crotch. Still—were they a little thicker? Already they had each been as thick around as his old nicely muscled swimmer’s legs, before he’d shot up to eight and a half feet tall and grown the third leg (not that his waist was that much bigger now). Were they fatter—as well as longer? Shit. That was really threatening to turn him on. He drew the hand back to his hard abs, afraid of the consequences of directly stimulating his organs. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get actual erections, let alone orgasms—not with the boner-dampening field they’d erected—so to speak—around his house and the houses of the Titans from Mr. Casey’s class (what did that make him, a Supertitan?). But then, he wasn’t supposed to be growing again.
“Vincent, are you listening to me? I’m late for soccer practice and I’m trapped in my room because of these things!” Suddenly Vincent felt the electric thrill of warm hands on his downstairs leg-thick (or more) hypercock. Like all the other guys in Portia who’d started mutating after that freak spill got into the water back in the spring, Vincent’s equipment was not only hyper-enormous but had become way more sensitive, so that each simple touch felt like the last, perfect stroke that sends you into orgasm.
“Don’t bone me up, dude!” Vincent warned urgently.
“Relax,” Cal said, as Vincent felt the hands start to stroke him. “You know you can’t. The boner field, remember?” Vincent hadn’t forgotten, but he’d been harboring the strange feeling that if anyone could get him riled up enough to overpower the anti-boner fields, it was Cal. Shit, his cousin been amazing to look at before. And now—!
Suddenly Vincent felt more warm hands on his downstairs monstercock, at least six or seven, and bit back a cry. “Duuude,” he moaned.
“I’m gonna keep torturing you until you haul this thing up to your floor,” Cal said in a deceptively calm voice.
“C’mon, can’t you just climb over it or something?” Vincent whined.
“Christ, Vincent, on a normal day I can barely fit through the door as it is, even without your damn cock in the way,” Cal shot back. Vincent felt a couple more of Cal’s warm, strong hands slowly stroking Vincent’s flesh, and he imagined Cal, standing naked in the doorway to his room, head brushing the ceiling and his two eight-foot cocks flung over his broad shoulders, reaching out with most of his big, many-fingered hands to caress a wall of waist-thick cockflesh piled in front of his bedroom door. An abrupt, unstoppable surge of unsuppressed orgasm shot through him, making his long freaky body shudder with a long moment of almost unendurable pleasure, shooting through his cocks and making them erupt with spooge even in their pseudo-flaccid state. He panted, feeling sweat prickle his brow.
“What the—?” squawked Cal, and then: “Dude, you’re flooding the whole corridor with jizz!”
“Your fault,” Vincent got out with difficulty, his heart still pounding in his chest. He wanted to touch himself, to cast aside the phone and use all eight hands to rub as much of his cocks as he could reach, but he knew that would only make things worse. But the orgasm had felt like it was only the beginning, like a harbinger of the real mind-blowing ecstasy to come.
“Shit, now I’m standing in, like, two inches of warm spunk,” Cal said. He didn’t sound completely disgusted. He’d taken most of his hands off Vincent’s cock, though, and Vincent found himself missing the feeling. “Bad enough I’m surrounded by your sandworm cocks,” he went on, sounding like he was griping largely to himself, “now I have to swim in your jizz. It’s making my feet feel all tingly, too.”
Vincent was confused by that until he remembered Cal and most of the other mutant boys in town had stopped wearing shoes a few weeks ago, around the time they’d abandoned clothes altogether. Those kilts had been pretty silly. Then he caught something else Cal had said. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘surrounded’? Did they get into you room?”
Vincent panted, trying to get ahold of himself—mentally, at least—so he could make some kind of sense out of all this. Despite all the jizz—so much jizz it was up to Cal’s ankles, at least, apparently—he hadn’t actually had a full orgasm, he realized, just a taste of one. He was still building up to the real thing. Any more serious stimulation, though—
He shifted his attention abruptly as he started feeling something entirely new somewhere on one of his other cocks. It was the huge, errant cock that was also feeling the cool breeze outside. With a thunderstruck realization Vincent finally understood—one of his cocks had burst through one of the windows in the neighboring room at some point in the night and was hanging down the side of the house! That must be the one blocking the view from Cal’s bedroom. Its head was brushing against dewy grass, and Vincent knew it had gotten so big that even from the next room it was so long that it fell all the way from the third floor window to the yard below.
But what he was feeling was more that a pleasant breeze and cool, damp grass. With a surge of almost panic he registered what he was sensing. He could feel arms around that cock—lots of thick, strong arms, and several powerful legs, too. Someone was climbing his dick, and it wasn’t Cal trying to get down like some mutant Rapenzel, either.
He remembered he was still on the phone with Cal. “Fuck, Cal,” he said. “Someone is climbing up my cock, and if you don’t stop him he’s going to make me blow an orgasm like this town has never seen!”