The box
From Metabods
Contents |
Part 1
Steve hurried out of the post office and, cradling the large parcel wrapped in brown paper awkwardly under one arm against his bare midriff, waved impatiently for a cab with the other. He could hardly wait to get home. The parcel was from his brother Peter, who hadn't been heard from since a postcard from Rumania two years earlier. But there was no doubt it was from him. Even setting aside the "P. Burgess" in the upper left (over no return address), he knew his brother's bold, masculine handwriting. The postage indicated the box had come from Egypt.
He stood at the edge of the sidewalk, leaning out and waving. One cab had slipped by already, ignoring him if not seeing him. The box started to slip and he propped it up awkwardly with his hip, wishing he had an extra arm to hold the box while he waved. He shook his head and smiled at the ridiculous yet strangely erotic notion. Though dusk had fallen it was still hot, and after the cool of the post office beads of sweat began to form again on his bare back, trickling down his spine, making him even more anxious to get home.
He thought about the last time he had seen his brother and smiled. He had come home after graduating college and stayed a week before setting out to travel the world for a while. Steve had been a high school junior, his body finally blossoming after three years of wrestling with a tough, championship team, but he knew his burgeoning physique couldn't compare with Pete's thick, lithe muscles, arrayed across his lanky, tall frame, moving and rippling under his clothes in a way that had always made Steve feel a warm rush. Pete had a long, beautiful face with a dazzling smile and short blond hair; that smile always seemed to have hidden meanings, a secret joy, that made Steve intensely curious about his brother. Pete seemed to enjoy, even relish, Steve's attention, going out of his way to be physically affectionate, whether it was placing a broad, warm hand on his shoulder when they happened to be standing near each other or sitting close when they were on the sofa watching television. This always embarrassed Steve, partly because he was abashed by the attention of his older brother but mainly because when his brother touched him his dick always got instantly hard. Even now, four years later, he realized his dick was getting hard just from thinking about Peter. He could feel it pushing hard against the fabric of his jeans. He'd never worn a stitch of underwear since discovering Peter went without.
Suddenly he heard a squeal of tires and realized a cab had stopped short in front of him. The dark-haired young cabbie, probably a student like himself cabbing for extra money, was staring at him, his lips lightly parted. He blushed, realizing his dick must be showing in his thin, faded jeans. Although it wasn't especially long -- it was just under 7 inches -- it was so wide his fingers just touched when he jerked off, and it always got incredibly hard. That and his shirtlessness seemed to hold the cabbie enthralled. His blue-eyed gaze was so intense that Steve was himself transfixed; but a horn behind them jostled him to his senses. He climbed into the cab, placing the box in his lap, and gave the address of his NYU dorm.
The cabbie -- the license said his name was Joachim -- was driving slow, taking every opportunity to stare at him in the rearview mirror. Steve found his icy blue eyes intoxicating. A warm feeling flooded him -- he knew he was getting really aroused, and he reddened a little as he thought about what was about to happen. Since puberty he'd noticed that when his dick swelled and got hard, and he was really, really turned on, his muscles got a little bigger, too -- like a really good pump from the gym, he'd later realized. It was not until college that he'd realized not only that not everyone got a body hard-on, as he'd come to call it, but that it was are sure turn-on to anyone who even remotely liked guys -- though he hadn't had many opportunities to find out, since he was afraid to let everyone else know he was different. The truth was, though he was a little ashamed of it, he had started working out and participating in sports because he loved the feel of the body hard-on and wanted to accentuate the effect. Early in his puberty it was not very noticeable, but working out and developing his muscles had indeed intensified the effect, so that he had eventually had to stop wrestling for fear of getting aroused and suddenly growing bigger in front of the entire team, or worse yet, at a meet. Peter had never mentioned it, but given the effect he always had on Steve, he must have noticed.
He could feel it starting. The warm feeling all over his body instensified, and a large dollop of precum surged from his cock, seeping through the fabric of his jeans. Sure enough, his muscles were swelling, as if between two heartbeats he had spent a day performing an intense work- out. His pants legs tightened, and his pecs were now pressed against the box in his lap. He drew a sharp breath as his hard nipples slipped up the slide of the box -- part of the body hard-on was a stretching of the spine that made him a couple inches taller. Joachim's eyes in the rearview mirror were wide and staring; he was obviously incredibly aroused -- his right hand was in his lap, his broad shoulders were quivering, and his breathing was ragged. Steve's cock throbbed and he heard a small rip -- the thin, worn, wet fabric of his old jeans was giving way to his steel hard dick!
Suddenly panicky, Steve yelled "Stop the cab!" -- just in time, he realized, because Joachim, mesmerized by his passenger, had been about to hit another cab stopped for a red light. But he stopped in time and, sparing only a moment to turn on his flashers, turned all the way around, so that he was kneeling on his seat. His handsome face leaned forward, and Steve had only enough time to notice a long, uncircumcized, and very hard cock sticking out of Joachim's fly being busily stroked before he found himself the recipient of a passionate liplock, a long, hot, yet gentle tongue sliding into his mouth as if it lived there. Steve, so intensely aroused his head suddenly bumped the roof of the cab, heard as if from a distance, over the barely heard honking of cars around them, the sound of his jeans ripping open the rest of the way, allowing his extra-wide cock to escape into the air.
Without taking his lips off him Steve pushed the seemingly smaller parcel aside and began running one hand over Steve's hard, swollen muscles, his other still busy with his own cock until Steve relieved him of that duty even as he slid his own tongue, like the rest of his body larger from the intense arousal, deep into Joachim's eager mouth. Joachim's thick cock felt so wonderful in his hand that before he knew it he realized he was going to come. He tried to hold off, but Joachim sensed how close Steve was and, continuing to stroke his engorged muscles with one hand, running his hand up and down as if his body were a giant erection (Steve imagined more hands, stroking his torso, his arms, his legs, everywhere), at the same time reached down and wrapped his hand around Steve's newly exposed cock, stroking it with its own precum even as Steve, still gloriously deep- kissing Joachim, his heard hard against the roof now, experienced a flood of intense pleasure -- then he exploded, a torrent of hot cum spraying the box on the seat beside him even as Joachim's cock burst a stream of cum, then another and another, straight up onto the tops of Steve's swollen pecs.
Steve fell back, exhausted and sated, against the seat, his body and cock still fully turgid after the intense experience. He wasn't sure how long it was before he realized where he was. He looked out the cab window and saw two hunky locals standing at the curb, groping each other as they watched the show. He smiled wanly and, pulling out his wallet, tucked the fare and a generous tip into Joachim's pocket, since the latter was still dazed, his eyes closed with a look of deep-seated pleasure on his face. Then, holding the big, cum-drenched box in front of his exposed erection, he climbed out of the cab, with more difficulty than he had had getting in, and walked as quickly as he could toward the darkness of a side-street, thankful he was near his dorm. By the time he got there his cock had softened and his body was almost back to normal. He fished out his keys from his damaged jeans, unlocked the door, and ran up the stairs to his room.
To his dismay he saw the door was ajar. His roommate, Frank, was home. This was normally bad news since his roommate, between his swim-team body and his habit of walking around showing all of same, was a constant source of potential arousal to Steve. Fortunately he wasn't home a lot, and when he was Steve normally headed to the library until bedtime, when he could sneak in and take care of his arousal in the dark while Frank slept.
He shouldered the door open the rest of the way. Frank wasn't in the room. He must be in the shower, Steve thought with a sudden grin: a shower at that hour meant a date, which meant that Steve had the room to himself once he was gone, probably all night. He went into the room and dropped the box onto the bed, quickly shucking his jeans and pulling on a tee shirt and a pair of gym shorts from his bureau. Just in time, for a second later Frank strode into the room fresh from the shower, his towel around his shoulders. His long, heavy cock swayed pendulously as Frank unselfconsciously walked over to his bureau and started looking through the contents of a drawer.
Catching himself staring at the young, gorgeous roommate, and starting to feel the effects in his cock, Steve snatched up a textbook and forced himself to concentrate on its contents. Je voudrais une chemise, he read.
"Hey Steve, what do you think of this shirt on me?" he heard. "Just got it today."
"I'm sure it's fine," he said. Les haricots verts sont trop cher ici.
"C'mon. What do you think?"
Steve looked up reluctantly and took a deep breath. Steve was still naked from the waist down, but above he was wearing a skintight black t-shirt with thin, bright-red pinstripes that traced the outline of every bump and bulge of his well-developed torso, even rumbling down his six-pack abs. Steve stared for a moment and managed to say, "It looks -- great."
Frank smiled brilliantly. "Thanks," he said. "Say, have you been living at the gym lately?"
Steve stared for just a second before realizing his cock was in full-blown hardon stage and his body, already starting to "show," would soon follow. "Shit!" he said, running out of the room, his French book in front of him, as Frank called after him in confusion, "No, I meant that good!" Steve hurried into the john and locked himself in a stall, breathing hard and forcing himself to concentrate on not getting hard. Fortunately this usually worked for him, and after a few moments he had calmed down. He crept out of the bathroom, cursing his hormones, he readied an apology for Frank, but he was already gone.
Half relieved, half disappointed, Steve closed the door and sat down on his bed. He set about opening the parcel.
The first thing in the box was a picture. Steve stared at it, instantly hard, his torso swelling, his t-shirt suddenly several sizes too small. It was Peter. He was sitting tall and straight on a plush sofa, dressed in a gray tank top and white shorts, his lean lanky body bursting with thick muscle, a broad grin on his beautiful face. To his amazement the photo (it must be doctored, Steve thought) showed something Steve had always fantasized about: Peter's body had four long, well- muscled arms, folded in two pairs across his chest, and four beautiful legs, likewise crossed in pairs. Steve was almost drooling. His cock was painfully hard; his tee shirt was so tight he had to drop the photo in his lap and literally rip it off. Even more stimulating: underneath the tank top, rising most of the way up long, long abdominals, was the unmistakable outline of two very long, very thick, very hard cocks. Two dots of wetness showed in the tank top just under the double set of folded arms.
Steve was in heaven. His shorts were so tight now his cock was fighting to get out; Steve picked the picture back up, then set it down with regret to peel off the shorts, wishing he had extra arms so he could hold the picture and undress -- and do lots of things besides. Doctored or no he could jack off to this picture for hours. Suddenly it occurred to him there might be more pictures in the box. Quickly he set the picture aside and looked eagerly. The next thing inside the box was a letter; underneath that there seemed mainly to be clothes. Clothes? He wondered, perplexed. He opened the letter and read Peter's firm hand: "Dear brother, I was really enjoying this for a while on my own until I realized I was being kind of selfish. So I'm sending these to you. I hope you think it's as incredible as I do. Enjoy. Love, Pete. P.S. You can wear your own clothes over. They'll adapt! It's really incredible. P.P.S. I'll be back in the states before long. See you soon."
The letter didn't make anything clearer, but the last line nearly made him come on the spot. He imagined Peter coming to him -- this Peter from the doctored photo, walking into his room naked on four big feet, opening all his arms wide to enfold him in an incredible hug, squeezing Steve tight as his body swelled, Peter's immense cocks pressed hard against Steve's abs. Without realizing it Steve had his hands around his broad cock, stroking it as he imagined four hands stroking his growing body, Peter's hands, his bulging legs mixed in among Peter's as they fall back on the bed, tongues stroking each other, cocks and limbs everywhere, Steve's body in the fantasy suddenly possessed of extra arms and legs as well, the two of them writhing in intense physical passion as if it had grown just as they had grown, for now they were even bigger, bodies intertwined, each entering the other and pressing deep within; and as he came close to cumming he imagined Peter's face, an Adonis's face, flushed with passion, desire, ecstasy -- and Steve came, shooting so powerfully that he hit his face, most of it shooting straight into his open, panting mouth. He swallowed, surprised and delighted, and licked his lips.
Part 2
Steve lay back, exhausted and sated, from the best jack- off session he'd ever had. He had almost felt the caresses of his long-absent brother Peter, his already sexy frame somehow augmented like the doctored picture he'd sent: four hands stroking Steve's hunky young body as it swelled in a body hard-on more stimulating than any he'd ever felt, Peter's imagined four legs intertwined with Steve's lithe and muscled legs, and somehow Steve had held out long enough to play out this fantasy with increasing passion until they had both come hard and copiously. Or at least, so it had happened in Steve's imagination. But two things were incontrovertible: He had come hard--there was a dollop of come on the cinder- block hall behind him, and he could still taste the shots that had hit his mouth; and his fantasy had lasted longer than a usual j/o session--according to the clock on his desk, he was now actually late for the editorial board meeting for the campus paper, though he'd gotten home in plenty of time. He'd have to hurry.
Nonetheless he lay naked on his bed for a few moments, trying to prolong the delicious afterglow. Peter's note had said he'd be back in the U.S. soon, and that had started the whole thing; even reminding himself of it now, in spite of his exhausted state, made his double- wide cock--which was still half-hard--twitch and swell. Hastily he shunted the thought aside: he didn't have time to take care of another hard-on. Nonetheless he wanted to help Peter in mind, and his thoughts turned to the box of clothes which, oddly, Peter had sent along with the note and doctored photo. On top were a couple of pairs of briefs and some tank-tops, all carefully folded; below that seemed to be a few pairs of pants and shirts. He decided wearing Peter's gifts under his clothes would make him feel good.
He checked the tags on the briefs. They seemed to be missing, but hand-lettered with permanent ink on the waist-band-in Peter's handwriting-were apparent sizes: one said "XL-2," another said "L-4," and so on. He wasn't sure what the number meant, but the sizes seemed pretty clear. Though he was small-waisted-around 31"-he normally had to wear large briefs because of his hard, spherical glutes-his prized "bubble butt." He pulled on the ones marked "L-4" and checked through the tank-tops. They were similarly tagless but carefully marked: "L-6," "L-4," "XL-6," etc. He pulled on the "L-6." Both the briefs and the tank-top seemed slightly snug and quite comfortable. His cock was just soft enough to tuck into the briefs, where it made an attractive bulge.
Quickly Steve pulled on a loose blue and red rugby shirt and jeans-not the worn ones his cock had ripped open in the cab on the way home, though he was tempted-and hurried out the door.
It wasn't far to the newspaper offices, and he jogged quickly across the campus, which was a lot cooler now than when he's come back from the post office; he was glad of the rugby shirt. He wasn't very excited about the meeting. He'd only joined the paper for one reason: he was interested enough in photography he was considering minoring in it, and the paper was the only place on campus with a darkroom he could get access to anytime he wanted. It occurred to him now, as he entered the student center, that he might have chosen photography in part because in a darkroom he wouldn't have to hide the effects that sudden arousal might have on him. His body hard-on-the way his muscles and whole body grew upon arousal as if he were a six-foot cock-was to him both intensely pleasurable and (since he'd found out in puberty that no one else got bigger when they were turned-on) disconcertingly freakish.
The meeting was already under-way, but he only got a few glances as he came in: no one really cared about the photo editor unless he didn't deliver his goods. He sat on the edge of the circle and looked around at the group as the editor ran down stories for the next issue. Suddenly his eyes fell upon a stranger's, and locked.
At first all Steve noticed about the new boy were his watery blue eyes, glinting with energy even under these fluorescent lights. Gradually his scope widened to take in a beautifully fashioned, model-handsome face with a hint of late-day stubble, and full, sensuous lips parted slightly; blond-sandy hair, cut short; broad shoulders concealed under a thin, unfashionable plaid shirt; a gymnast's torso, though a touch too muscular for a gymnast...
All this time the new boy had returned the stare, as if sizing Steve up the same way; but suddenly he turned and said to the editor, "Jay, I don't think I know...", nodding at Steve.
Jay said, "Oh, um. O.K. Steve Riese, this is Brad Lang, the new fiction editor. Steve's the, ah, photo editor."
Steve smiled and blushed, suddenly aware he'd been staring-and in front of all these people. He glanced around, but no one seemed to have noticed. Actually he had a more pressing problem: a sudden snugness in the rugby shirt across his shoulders warned him he was in danger of getting aroused. He closed his eyes and ran through his calming routine. Fortunately it worked, though he was sure that if he hadn't just had incredible j/o it wouldn't have.
He came out of the routine and tried to pick up the threads of the meeting. He actually should be paying attention at this point, since they were talking about sports stories, which would need pictures. The heavyset sports editor glanced at him and he nodded as if he'd been listening.
But his mind soon wandered and he found himself looking at Brad, who was staring covertly at Steve-not to incite him, just as if he were taken with what he saw. He licked his full lips unconsciously and that simple act sent a tingle through Steve's body. Quickly Steve closed his eyes and tried the calming technique, only this time he couldn't think clearly-it felt as though some emotion was washing through him, one he didn't know. His body started to feel queerly out of phase. The sounds in the room grew hazy. He tried to rub his temples with his fingertips, but even this everyday act felt peculiar. He opened his eyes and, glancing at his hand as he brought it down from his temple, noticed with alarm that it had six fingers.
He started at it, frozen, even as he felt his whole body shiver. It had never happened like this before! For a moment he was paralyzed; but then he felt the familiar tightness across the shoulders and realized he had to move. He stood up abruptly. The features editor, interrupted in mid-word, glared up at him. The glare scattered whatever he might have been able to say. Instead he fled to the darkroom, hoping he'd reach it in time.
The darkroom had a kind of black revolving door, a light- safe door, which a staff wag had noticed looked a lot like the Orgasmatron from the Woody Allen movie "Sleeper." On the one or two previous occasions he'd hurried into the darkroom to hide a budding body hard-on he'd been amused by the connection; but he didn't think of it now. He rushed in and pulled the door around. He leaned against the nearest counter, staring at his hands in the red glow of the dark-room light.
He felt his body swelling-he was getting a raging hard- on. This amazed him. He'd already come twice today! Was the new boy that sexy? And even with that thought he felt a surge, his pecs swelling up under the shirt like balloons being inflated. Normally he would have pulled off his shirt to keep it from ripping, but the rugby shirt was stretchy enough-it would just get really, really snug. Then a sudden constriction in his crotch tore his mind away from his shirt. Quickly he unzipped his fly and through the flap in his suddenly packed briefs he hauled out his cock. Only-where his cock should have been was a monster, a huge python that, though not even hard yet, was too big to get both hands around. It was broad and squarish like his old cock but much bigger. He stared at it aghast, and all he could think was that it felt good-it felt damn good. It was swelling up to full hardness, and after a moment-though Steve had lost sensation of time-it was granite-hard and prodigious. Though it was all the way hard it felt like it was still growing. As he stroked the monster with his broader-than-before hands Steve felt, and then saw, a depression running down the middle of the quivering cock, on the top and bottom and each of the sides; and then- accompanied by an almost orgasmic feeling of pleasure the head of the huge cock separated into four, and then the separation proceeded slowly down the cock to the base, splitting into four rock-hard quivering cocks as if it were the most natural and beautiful thing in the world. At that moment Steve would not have disagreed. Just the cool air of the room on the new skin where the cocks had split felt like a succulent mouth giving incredible head.
Even as he panted with the pleasure induced by his new cocks he felt a new swell of pleasure from his shoulders and glanced down excitedly. He was surprised to see that his rugby shirt was not as tight as he expected it to be. At first he thought it was because he hadn't grown as much as usual-but he looked around and saw he was near the roof of the little room! He never got more than six or eight inches taller, but he must have grown two or three times that, only his clothes had grown with him. The height came from the lengthening of his torso and legs, which gave him an uncommonly lean, lanky look, only the pants legs and shirt had grown with him. Even the fly was wider to accommodate his nest of cocks. How could that be?
He looked down at his shoulder again, which was swelling in a weird way. It seemed to have three wide ridges along the top leading toward his arm. It was the same on the other side. As he watched in the eerie red light his upper arm swelled suddenly, bulging in three ridges as if he had three sets of biceps; by this point his shoulders on each side had started to separate into three caps, and having seen what happened to his cock he had an inkling of what was going to happen, though he still couldn't believe it. And even as he was thinking this the separation shot down the arm under the shirt sleeve, and just as rapidly divided, the shirt sleeve as well, with a feeling of pleasure so intense he half expected come to shoot from his hands. Almost before he realized it he was running surprised hands over his six long, extremely well-muscled arms, reveling in the touch, the press of muscle against muscle, the realization of a barely acknowledged fantasy suddenly come true.
Four of those hands, of course, soon found his large but sensitive cocks, and as he began caressing them his body hard-on completed with his head brushing against the darkroom ceiling.
He was so immersed in how good this felt, and enjoying the roving of his remaining hands over his swollen muscles packed onto his stretched body, that he didn't heard the Orgasmatron revolving, didn't notice Brad until he looked down and saw him staring up at him, dumbstruck, from the entryway. "I came to see if you were O.K.," Brad whispered.
Steve froze. Reality had intruded and he might have lost his hard-on had Brad not been so sexually stimulating from head to toe. Worried thoughts like "What will he do?" and "He's going to tell everyone I'm a freak" vied for his attention with "My god his body is perfect" and "I could come just watching those lips."
A tense moment passed, then Brad's hand strayed to one leg of his baggy jeans. The hand kept going, starting at the crotch and continuing down to the knee, adjusting something long and thick underneath. Suddenly he said, "I've got to get out of these," quickly unbuttoning his pants and lowering them to the ground, revealing a slumbering cock that seemed to be swelling up like a life raft. Brad shucked his shirt too, revealing a bod that was perfectly proportioned and deliciously muscled-his muscles, though not as impressive as Steve's in their current engorged state, were bigger than his normal state and much better sculpted. But it was Brad's cock that drew Steve's attention now. Though large and heavy it was pointing straight up, and having reached full size it was quivering excitedly near the tops of his pecs. As if almost out of habit Brad inclined his head and lapped up a trickle of precum.
"You can see I won't tell anyone," Brad whispered, stepping closer and running his hands along Steve's nearest arms. "I'm a bit unusual myself. Though not quite like you," he added with a devastating grin.
Steve wasn't sure what he meant, though he was still concerned. "I-" he began. But his tongue was now longer than before, a sensual instrument of passion, and made talking more difficult.
Brad stopped him by pulling his head down for a kiss-a kiss so long and passionate that they both inhaled deeply as soon as they pulled apart, starved for air. Brad looked up at him with naked desire. "You're the sexiest man I've ever seen," he said.
Together they dove into a span of time saturated with pleasure and passion. Steve was uninhibited with Brad in a way he'd never been, and Brad-beyond a few secret hand- jobs in high school-was finally letting go of a fear of sharing his prodigious sexuality with another man. Steve felt as purely happy being able to using this astounding body to bring pleasure to Brad as Brad did being on the receiving end. First they groped each other as Steve used four of his wide, long-fingered hands to surround Brad's cock with his own and stroke them all together. (Between the difference in height and the enormous length of Brad's cock it ended up poking a few inches out of the middle of Steve's quartet of cocks-and those sensitive cocks loved pressing against another hot throbbing cock almost more than anything else.) At this point Steve realized he was still fully clothed and quickly shucked the shirts, briefs, and jeans. He'd realized that Peter's clothes must have had something to do with his transformation, and he didn't know what would happen if he took them off; but he didn't care. His body seemed stable even after he took off the clothes, and Brad stopped for a moment to look up at Steve's torso: now on display were thick, square, granite-hard pecs overshadowing and equally rock-hard and excitingly elongated abdominal section, above which were extra-wide shoulders from which hung six long, pumped, tightly packed arms with broad, many-fingered hands. Below were two extra-long, well-shaped and lightly hairy legs culminating in two long, beautiful feet. Brad whistled, which made Steve feel hot all over; then they went for each other, kissing madly and massaging cock, muscle, and limb.
As their passion increased Brad suddenly slid behind Steve and even before Steve realized what was happening he felt the tip of Brad's tremendous cock against his virgin hole. Steve felt a momentary panic but Brad whispered, "If anyone can take this it's you. Just relax." To distract him brad used his only two arms to reach around and start stroking Steve's top two cocks, so thick and hard they felt huge in his hands, and as Steve gasped Brad slid the first inch in. Brad continued stroking the cocks and pushing his own in, inch after inch, until they both realized that never before had either of them felt as much mind-swimming pleasure as they both felt at that moment, with Brad sliding his hot, thick, throbbing, incredibly long cock deeper and deeper into Steve's virgin-tight, red-hot ass. Brad started to push deeper, and Steve had to refrain from crying out, remembering with a sudden thrill that the others were outside. Brad plowed that virgin ass, sliding his cock with difficulty between bowling-ball glutes, until less than a foot remained outside; then he started pumping, stroking those top two cocks with the same rhythm while Steve stroked the other two. It didn't take long before they both felt ready to burst. Brad tried to pull out but couldn't get his whole length out in time, and he came inside Steve, cumming spurt after spurt, while Steve shot in great quantity from four cocks simultaneously, a burst of pleasure so powerful he staggered, nearly knocked out.
It was some time before they were aware of anything again, longer still before they were cleaned up and dressed. Steve's body contracted from the body hard-on normally; and the extra arms and cocks reassimilated into a proper number, though he felt as though he might be slightly bigger than before. He checked his hands-five fingers. That was a good sign. As for Brad, his monster shrank into a compact, almost normal-looking cock. "It's only a problem when I get hard," Brad said, pulling up his pants.
"Tell me about it," Steve mused. He had his jeans on but his rugby shirt was still in his hands. Perhaps because he's cast it off before his bod returned to (near-) normal, it was still the size it had been at his biggest, and still had six arms. He would have to go with just the tank top.
"Brad, are you doing anything tonight?"
"No, I'm not, and even if I were, I'm not," said Brad with a grin.
"Good. I've got something back at my room I need to show you. A big pile of somethings."
Part 3
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!" growled Frank, angrily dumping his wet laundry onto his bed. All three of the dryers in the dorm laundry room weren't working, through it had taken Frank six quarters dropped in the one that wasn't marked "OUT OF ORDER" to find that out.
Now he had nothing to wear to the swim team victory party that night. There were the denim cutoffs he was wearing, of course, but this was one time the team was expected to wear shirts and pants -- and nice ones too, since reporters from the city papers and the campus rag would be covering the event, the capper on the first half of a shutout season.
Frank glanced in the mirror behind the door and briefly considered going in just the shorts anyway. He grinned at the ridiculous idea. Still ... There was no question he had a well-proportioned body, lanky and well-built since before puberty, and he'd worked hard on conditioning for years now. His muscles were firm and tight and blew out unexpectedly large when flexed, his body fat was miniscule, his arms and legs long and lean and firmly packed, his hands and feet large, nimble, and well-formed. He could play a lot of sports, but he had to admit to himself he stuck with swimming because he liked his body and knew other people liked it too.
He knew for a fact he turned on his secretive roommate Steve, though the hunky sophomore tried to hide it. Sometimes he would seem to get distracted in the midst of a chat with Frank; Frank would feel Steve's young, hot, hungry eyes drifting over his bod -- and then suddenly Steve would get up and leave the room. More than once Frank had spotted Steve's rock-hard boner, wider than two of Frank's cocks, twitching under Steve's jeans before a sudden exit.
Lately Frank had taken to provoking him, walking around naked as much as possible, just to see what would happen. At first Steve had become flustered and agitated -- and evidently was working off his frustration at the gym, since whenever he saw Steve lately he looked huge. But for much of the past couple weeks his plan had evidently backfired -- Steve was staying away from the dorm except occasionally stopping by to get clothes or books.
Suddenly a coin dropped in Frank's mind. His eyes slid off his body in the mirror to the dresser behind him -- Steve's dresser. Frank smiled. He couldn't go half-naked, of course, but he could innocently borrow some of his roommate's clothes. Steve would never even know -- he was certainly sleeping at his new boyfriend's, and the clothes would be returned in the morning.
Frank hurried over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Empty. Frank frowned. His clothes must be all at his boyfriend's, since he was always sleeping there. In fact all the drawers were empty except the bottom one.
In the bottom drawer there was a variety of clothes -- long-sleeve shirts, tank tops, underwear, shorts, pants, and socks. The drawer was only partly full -- Frank guessed some of these were also with Steve at his boyfriend's. Oddly none of the clothes had manufacturer's labels. Instead they were marked with codes in magic marker. Frank frowned again. Steve had a drawer full of irregulars? Still he had no choice. He pulled on what looked like Calvin Klein boxer-briefs. He wouldn't normally wear briefs marked XL-2 -- he had a very trim 30" waist -- but they were the only ones there, and fit surprisingly snugly. In fact they felt instantly comfortable and not a little erotic. Frank felt his cock swell a little into the cozy pouch.
Quickly he pulled on an undershirt marked L-3P followed by a pair of khaki slacks marked L-4 and a brick-red button-down shirt, also marked L-4. He was surprised to see even the socks he grabbed were also marked (L-7T). All the clothes fit perfectly despite Steve's bigger frame, and in fact felt as snug and cozy as the Calvins, pressing softly against his skin and muscle, as if they were adapting to his bod. Frank grinned, shaking his head. Too lucky. Must be these were all of Steve's high school clothes, from before he bulked up. No wonder he'd left them behind.
Under the slacks was a Polaroid snapshot.
The Polaroid featured a very sexy young athlete, maybe a little older than Frank. He looked a little like Steve, but better looking, and cockier, though not quite as built. He was sitting tall and straight on a plush sofa, dressed in a gray tank top and white shorts, his lean lanky body laden with thick muscle, a broad grin on his beautiful face.
Somehow the photo had been doctored, since to Frank's amazement it showed the hunk with four long, well-muscled arms, folded in two pairs across his chest, and four beautiful legs, likewise crossed in pairs. Still more amazing -- underneath the tank top, rising most of the way up long, long abdominals, was the unmistakable outline of two very long, very thick, very hard cocks. Two dots of wetness showed in the tank top just under the double set of folded arms.
Frank stared a long time at this photograph, not even realizing he was getting very aroused.
Brad, walking along at Steve's side, looked up at him, grinning broadly. He was in love and perpetual lust with this tall, gorgeous, built dude whose amazing body was set up in such a way that whenever he got a hard-on, his whole body grew, as if this luscious body was a luscious cock turned into a hunky human. Steve called it a body hardon. He was still shy about it, knowing how strange he was, but Brad totally got off on it, and that was giving Steve confidence.
Brad loved to watch Steve get aroused, loved to make it happen. It started in the eyes -- his amber eyes caught fire, lit by orange-yellow flame. Then as Brad watched Steve's body would swell along with his cock. His shoulders would broaden, his upper arms would swell, his pecs would start growing, his whole torso would start to lengthen, the arms and legs following suit, stretching, growing, expanding. Finally his double-wide cock would be rock-hard and quivering, and Steve's engorged body would reach its full throbbing size as well, flushed and panting, his eyes a blazing fire. Brad had come more than once just watching Steve get hard.
And that wasn't even all. If Steve was wearing clothes from the secret box his mysterious brother had sent him, the effect was intoxicatingly multiplied. The first time they met Steve was wearing clothes that made him sport six long thick-muscled arms, velvety smooth and stone hard, and four huge hard throbbing versions of that delicious double- wide cock.
This was a dream come true for Brad, a gymnast who had always gotten off on arms and legs. Since puberty he'd beat off his two-foot cock wishing he had more arms, more hands to stroke his tremendous organ. He'd dreamed of hands, hands, and more hands, all over his super-long cock, and then as he started to build up a gymnast's bod, over his muscles and limbs as well. He'd started to have dreams at night of competing naked, hugely hard, with four or six or eight long legs and as many long arms, spinning his many legs like mad in the flairs, cartwheeling forever on the mat, splitting in all directions...
Once he learned of these dreams, Steve had put aside his concerns about his freakishness and pulled on the six-arm tank-top whenever they got together in Brad's dorm room, which Brad thanked God every night he had to himself with no roommate. Brad would immerse himself in Steve's hot body, feeling it grow around him, muscles swelling, bones growing, then Brad would feel six huge hands roaming his tight body, stroking his tremendous boner with hand after hand after hand, and often this would bring Brad to sudden orgasm before they even got to the stone-hard cocks thrusting up out of Steve's deep crotch.
Tonight, the rest of his dream would come true. Though Steve had held off, worried because he didn't know what would happen, lust at the thought of an augmented Brad had finally won out. Tonight, Brad would get to wear clothes from the box.
Brad looked back at Steve as they walked across campus, his eyes sliding up and down his body, feeling his tightly packed python squirm inside his straining Calvins and loose jeans. There was no question about it. In the month they'd known each other, Steve had grown. They'd started out about the same height, Steve maybe a couple inches taller. Now, Steve was a good foot taller than Brad even when he wasn't aroused. He'd taken to wearing gym shorts, sneakers, and nothing else, since too-short shirts and pants looked odder than nothing at all -- and that was more than fine with Brad, who found himself constantly staring at the elongated abs capped with ponderous, rounded pecs, and the stretched -- but still heavily muscled -- arms and legs ending in large hands and feet. He wasn't sure whether it meant Steve was constantly half-hard, or that continued exposure to the magic clothes had left a residual effect, or what, and he didn't fucking care. He grinned as they passed an impromptu basketball game in progress -- all eyes were suddenly fixed on Steve, and the guy about to shoot the ball went so wide it shot over the fence.
Brad felt good -- he and Steve shared a magical secret and had fulfilled each other's fantasies -- or they would, tonight, anyway.
Frank felt something strange coming over him. He felt flushed and light-headed. He tried sitting down on Steve's bed, next to the dresser, but he stumbled and fell on it instead. His body seemed awash in hot liquid fire, he felt as though he were cumming for the first time. He was hugely aroused, the room was swimming, the walls were moving, his body seemed indistinct. His groin urgently needed attention and he felt for the zipper and frantically opened it, unloosing the button at the waist. He could barely make out the huge mass of the straining undershorts. He pulled down the waistband and released the throbbing flesh inside, falling back on the bed as he reached up with a hand to start stroking. He started stroking his chest through the shirt, then, panting, started unbuttoning the shirt. Strange, his hand didn't seem to be going all the way around. He reached up with another hand to help ...
Suddenly he froze. He was unbuttoning his shirt with two hands. He lifted his head, his mind still swimming with hormones. The first thing he saw was two enormous boners. They were impossibly thick, as thick as his wrist and almost as long as his forearm, throbbing and quivering like sex totems, dwarfing the two big hands wrapped around them, fingers unable to touch, as they mindlessly slid up and down, each trip sending a wave of pleasure through his body. They were like iron bars, so hard he couldn't move them. He could only stroke their long, long length, up out of the groin at a 45-degree angle but gently curving toward his torso.
His body ... Now he noticed two new hands, like the others attached to long muscular arms that filled the wide sleeves of the shirt, which had developed four arms itself. They were done unbuttoning the shirt and now he watched amazed as he guided the hands along the tight abs and up to his enlarged pecs, which ballooned out as he flexed them, as sensitive as if they were made of cock-muscle. Still stroking his enormous cocks, he continued exploring with his new long-fingered hands, drawing them across the great pecs. He caressed his broad shoulders. Where the great arms joined the body was a kind of erogenous zone -- he felt a flush of pleasure as he stroked the firm muscle through the soft fabric of the shirt. He then caressed down the other, generously muscled arms, finally reaching the other broad, long- fingered hands, still slowly stroking his incredible organs.
His body shuddered with pleasure. More aware of what he was feeling, he sensed rather than saw four swimmer's legs instead of two, and four big feet. That kicked him close to the edge. He loved feet, loved the slap of big beautiful male feet on the locker room floor, and the idea of four feet made his blood rush. He stroked faster now, his huge sensitive cocks sending shock-waves through his body as he rubbed his feet against the carpet through the socks, his anus pulsing, his augmented hunk bod writhing on the bed.
He was almost ready to shoot when someone knocked at the door.
Frank froze. "Go away!"
Frank heard a masculine voice through the door. "Hey, Steve, is that you?" Frank was about yell back when he noticed the doorknob turning. Panicking, he jumped up and ran across the room, coordinating his four legs effortlessly (though he scarcely noticed), positioning himself behind the door just as it started to open. He grabbed the edge of the door and peered around it cautiously, acutely aware that though he was fully clothed -- magic clothes or no -- he was obscenely exposed, his two huge boners totally unhideable, his new arms and legs somehow just as erotic.
On the other side of the door a very tall, lanky, well-muscled young man regarded him with interest, blue eyes glinting. His limbs were very long, ending in large hands and large bare feet; long straight blond hair fell past broad shoulders most of the way down his back. He was wearing just a tee-shirt, stretched across heavy pecs and worn through near the nipples, and very worn jeans. He smiled, revealing dimples. "You're not Steve," he said, still smiling.
Precum oozed steadily from Frank's monster cocks, behind the door. "No, I'm not," he said. "I'm his roommate, Frank."
"I'm Peter, Steve's brother," the tall man in the hall said. "Can I come in and wait?" Suddenly Frank realized why Peter looked familiar -- he was the gorgeous augmented athlete in the apparently-not-doctored-after-all Polaroid. His mouth dropped open. At the same time Peter's grin broadened and he said, softly, "I recognize that shirt." Peter slowly pushed the door open enough for him to step through, his head not quite grazing the doorjamb. Frank didn't resist.
In a moment they were standing in front of each other, very still, engrossed. Peter pushed the door shut and locked it.
Frank felt passion burst in every cell of his body. In spite of his squarely positioned four legs and four big feet he felt he might swoon. This man radiated sexuality, and just standing in front of him, drinking him in, he was pushing Frank to a new level, his blood surging, his heart pounding, his cock-poles shuddering. A drop of sweat trickled down his broadened back. He stood, four muscle arms akimbo, panting, waiting.
Peter was becoming aroused.
Still smiling, eyes still glinting, his whole body seemed to throb imperceptibly. Frank felt a half-second's blackness come over him and when he focused again, his knees weak, Peter was nude.
Frank gasped. His body was perfectly crafted, firm and solid and muscular and stretched, from his long neck to long but thick-muscled arms and legs to a long, ten-pack abdomen to long fingers and toes. And hanging from his crotch was a thick heavy penis that was growing, and growing, and growing.
Even as he watched it seemed to swell like a balloon being blown up, and -- accompanied by a moan from their owner -- they slowly divided as they grew and stiffened into two huge cocks, as big as Frank's but longer, pointing straight up. As Frank looked over that powerful body and sucked in his breath -- it was all pulsing, throbbing, growing. He winked at Frank. "I don't need the clothes," he whispered.
Frank couldn't stand it any more. He had to have it. He closed the distance between them and as they touched lips he too was naked. He didn't notice his missing clothes at the time -- but he remembered many hands stroking his broad bare back as they kissed, their hot mouths merging as they groped each other.
Time stopped. Arms and legs intertwined, muscle pressed against muscle. Peter bent slightly and began giving his left cock sensational head, using two hands to grab Frank's ass and two more to stroke the broad shafts near the bottom. Frank closed his eyes, perpetually seconds away from coming as Peter ministered. Gradually he became aware that his right cock was also getting expertly sucked. He opened his eyes a crack and saw the Peter had broadened his shoulders and was using two beautiful, sexy, long-haired heads to suck his two huge cocks. Frank found this incredibly arousing and soon clear precum was dribbling from both of Peter's mouths and down firm, angular chins. Two blowjobs at once felt ten times as good as one.
Frank began stroking the two heads with two of his hands, wrapping his other two around the tops of Peter's gorgeous cocks, getting off on his arm muscles brushing together. They felt hot and firm and smooth, and as Frank massaged them they throbbed and seemed to expand slightly in his hands. Peter moaned again around Frank's cocks. He was taking more and more of his cocks, hot mouths swallowing his meat in stages, until suddenly he lunged forward and took the whole length, entirely engulfing Frank's throbbing monsters.
Time shifted and somehow they were on the bed. Frank was on his back, Peter kneeling over him still taking both his cocks, four glinting eyes looking up at him, his long thick meat shoved deep in Peter's hot tight throat as Peter's many broad hands slowly caressed Frank's enhanced musclebod, but now Frank's four legs were over Peter's broad shoulders. He realized he could feel he had two asses now--his extra legs had grown behind his old ones, merged into his body with a new ass, and he raised his head to see Peter using a couple extra long-fingered hands to guide those lances toward his two virgin assholes. Frank shivered, and for a moment felt a twinge of fear, but somehow he knew he would be able to take those beauties--just. To take his mind off it he stared at his four big, sculpted, powerful feet. He felt an odd sense of pride to own such superlative feet. They felt strong, just as how whole body did. He looked closer and realized that each of those feet was possessed of seven finger-like toes. He waggled them and his cocks surged. He longed to suck them.
Then Peter's cocks made contact with his twitching twin holes and he forgot all about his feet. They pushed in, incredibly hard and firm, and Frank felt a brief flash of pain followed by a storm of pleasure, flooding his mind and body, as the cock-poles pushed into his body. Peter sucked harder on Frank's instensely throbbing cocks, tonguing them with long hot tongues, squeezing them in his throats so they seemed to grow with every stab of violent pleasure, every thrust of Peter's steel-hard cocks. Peter seemed to push them in further, harder, impossibly far, each push thrilling Frank's body, until at last Peter, bent nearly double, shoved the last few inches through his virgin- tight, furnace-hot holes and he felt those two huge organs entirely inside him, hot and throbbing and alive, and he wanted them there more than anything, he wanted them to stay there pulsing deep inside his bod.
Peter started to fuck him, slowly at first, then quickly faster and faster, pounding his asses and his cocks in sympathetic rhythm. Frank was in ecstasy but couldn't hold out. Within moments he was on the edge and then his whole body seemed to swell up, muscles and limbs and cocks expanding, and them suddenly he exploded, his groin bursting with fiery cum that shot down his endless cocks and burst into Peter's twin throats, and even as he fell back tingling it happened again, only now it was happening to Peter too, his whole body throbbing, those cocks inside him expanding and shuddering, and then they both let loose, filling each other with cum, and then again, and once more.
Peter disengaged and, smiling up at him with beautiful twin faces, moved up and lay on top of Frank, kissing him with both mouths. Frank had never had a three-way kiss before and loved it, and they kissed passionately. He wrapped his four muscle arms around Peter's long, thick torso and felt its pulsing, thinking that it felt like a man- sized hard-on, still half-erect after incredible sex, much as both their cocks were, laying pulsing against their sweaty abs, the thick tubes half hard and pleasantly intermingled, bigger now than they had been hard. He was dimly aware that he didn't fit on the bed any more, that his whole body had grown, and this sent a last light wave of pleasure through his sated body. They fell asleep that way, Peter's heads resting on Frank's expanded pecs, and were awakened only by the jangling of keys at Frank's door.
Part 4
“Shh! I think I hear something!” Brad whispered to Steve, who had unlocked the door to his dorm room and already had his broad, long-fingered hand on the knob to open it.
Steve frowned down at Brad, but the frown melted as he looked into those beautiful clear blue eyes, just catching the bright light of the third-floor dorm hallway. He licked his lips. Whatever had made his body slowly stretch, little by little, since he’d met Brad, he liked seeing his face, his eyes, from this angle, turned up to him, innocent and cute as hell. Well, not that innocent, Steve decided—there was a hungry gleam in those eyes that was far from innocent, a gleam that drank in Steve’s towering practically naked body as if to absorb Steve into him, a gleam that said that however much he wanted to be held and caressed Brad also wanted to throw Steve on the floor and have passionate sex with him right now, nonstop, bodies melting together, with no return to reality.
Steve lost his train of thought for a moment. A few pricks of sweat trickled between his heavy pecs and started rolling down his very long, flat abs. “It’s probably just Frank,” he said at last in a normal voice.
Brad looked disappointed. “I thought we were going to be alone,” he said. “Didn’t you say he had a swim meet tonight?”
Steve nodded. “He’s probably just getting ready to go.”
Brad grinned suddenly. “Maybe we should wait a minute,” he said, and without warning reached up with both tightly muscled arms and pulled Steve’s head down to his, locking their lips together in a kiss more passionate than any fuck. Steve felt a wave of deep warmth flow through his elongated bod—his blood started to pump, filling and swelling his dick, his muscles, his entire body.
He pulled away from the kiss, just an inch, and said, “No wait, don’t get me excited out here!”
Brad grinned. “Why? You’re not wearing any of the clothes,” he said, glancing down at Steve’s bod, which was hidden only by very large tennis shoes with a bit of crew sock showing, and a pair of gym shorts with a suddenly very large package.
Steve nodded breathlessly. “The shorts,” he breathed.
Brad’s face lit up. “Which ones?”
Steve bit his lip. “Four extra-long legs. Three extra-long cocks. It was going to be a surprise,” he added ruefully.
Brad was practically panting. “Oh, I’m surprised,” he said, grabbing Steve’s head again and pulling him in for an even hotter kiss.
Forgot to tell him about the socks, Steve thought. Well that can still be a surprise. Shit! It’s starting… Steve’s heart pounded as he felt Brad’s strong hands caressing his slowly broadening, stretching back.
“Shh! I think I hear something!” Frank whispered to Peter, who was still half-asleep, both of his heads dozing on Frank’s larger-than-before pecs. Their multilimbed bodies overflowed the dorm bed they were laying on, languid in afterglow.
Peter grinned without opening his eyes. “I bet it’s Steve,” he said in a deep growly voice.
Frank lifted his head in alarm and glanced at the door, then down at their intertwined bodies. His four arms and hands were wrapped around Peter’s long, broad torso, stroking the long blond hair that tumbled from two heads now, intermingling all over his back. His four (!) long swimmer’s legs extended off the bed now—the bed ended halfway down his thigh!—and four very large, very sexy feet were planted firmly on the floor. And he could feel, with every ounce of his body, the two enormous cocks, hot and full of blood, still three-quarters hard and twisted with Peter’s equally large organs, a large heavy mass of cock muscle twitching and throbbing against their abs.
“I can’t let Steve see me like this!” he said.
Peter lifted his heads and looked up at Frank with piercing eyes. “Sure you can! This is his fantasy. Though I don’t know if he knows it yet. That’s why I sent the clothes—I wanted to get him ready.” He grinned in stereo. “Though if I’d known his roommate was so hot, I would’ve sent them to you first—that would really have got him going!”
Frank blinked. He was becoming distracted. He was looking at those twin gorgeous faces and remembering why Peter had done it—the mind-blowing simultaneous blow job on both his towering cocks. Peter’s heads were placed very close to each other, just like Frank’s cocks, and his stubbly, square jaws and cheeks were just brushing against each other. Frank loved the feel of light stubble brushing against his cheek and wondered of Peter was enjoying the feel of it too. He seemed to be. Without even realizing what he was saying Frank whispered, “Can you kiss yourself like that?”
Peter grinned even wider. “I can do anything,” he said softly. Slowly he turned his heads toward each other and, tilting them, began to kiss enthusiastically. Frank drew his breath in sharply and felt his cocks suddenly trying to get hard, pushing against Peter’s similarly stiffening monsters.
“No! No!” Frank said suddenly, pushing Peter off him onto the bed and standing abruptly, startled to realize his head was near the ceiling. He balanced on his four large seven-toed feet, his cocks iron-hard now and curving pack toward his torso in a double arc, the shafts pressed together, the tips just touching his breastbone between his pecs, one just below the other, pushing hard against the packed, ponderous muscle. Two big, full ballsacks jostled each other. He gazed down it in amazement. It was still his hunky swimmer’s bod, but transformed and fantastically augmented.
“I’ve got to get back to normal!” he said desperately, spreading his four arms wide, though he dreaded it too. He loved this new body more than he cared to admit.
He looked over at Peter and gasped. Peter had transformed again. His one head was now shorn, its buzzcut hair bristling with a light sheen of sweat, set off his bright, glinting eyes and sensually chiseled features and smooth glowing skin. His long, languorous body was on its side, every muscle visible, expanded, delineated, sexual, strokable, lickable, from the striations of his thick, heavy, densely packed pecs and excitingly bumpy traps and delts to the long, flat, rigidly defined abs which led into a nest of heavy, extra-wide half-hard cocks, below which were four very long, thick, toned, steel-hard legs. At the end of each leg were big, strong, many-toed feet. Depending from his massive shoulders were six luscious arms, each with thick, dense biceps and triceps, big enough that the arms got in each other's way, muscle jostling muscle; and thick strong forearms leading to broad many-fingered hands. Frank licked his lips. Each of the six arms featured a tattoo on the upper arm of superhot multilimbed guys in various positions, making love. Superhot multilimbed guys like us, Frank thought with a sudden wave of desire.
“Not just yet,” he half-whispered, half growled.
“Shh! I think I hear something!” Sebastian said to his clone as they came up the stairs on the way back from the gym, stopping just short of the door to the third floor.
They stopped, listening. They could just hear what sounded like low moans in the hallway on the other side of the door. They exchanged glances, grinning. “Sounds like someone’s having fun!” Sebastian said to his “brother.” Though he was Michel for public consumption, neither one of them knew which one was “real” and which one was the duplicate. Their handsome, dark Celtic features and tight, gym-rat bods were absolutely identical. They called each other Sebastian in private.
“Let’s go see!” said the other. They pulled open the door together and walked into the hallway, where they stopped dead, awestruck.
Only a few feet away, pressed against a dorm room door, a nearly naked Steve Riese was making out with his hot new boyfriend Brad. The Sebastians had lusted after both these hunks before, but now they were enraptured. Steve was transforming before their eyes, his body metamorphosing even as he and Brad kissed and groped each other. They watched amazed and intensely aroused as Steve’s entire body slowly grew toward the ceiling, stretching like a cock. All his muscles seemed to be swelling—shoulders, pecs, biceps and triceps, ass, quads, calves—as his body stretched, his arms, legs, neck, and torso lengthening, so much so that Steve had to pick up Brad in order to continued ravishing him. Soon Steve’s short stiff hair was brushing the high ceiling of the hallway. A very wide, powerful, rock-hard cock seemed to be creeping up Steve’s abs, just visible between Steve’s naked torso and Brad’s still fully-clothed bod. Brad moaned audibly.
The Sebastians stared, entranced. It was exactly like Steve’s body was itself a cock, swelling and stiffening, getting bigger and bigger, filling with some kind of raw, primal passion. Their own cocks were painfully engorged and constricted. Without taking their eyes off this fantastic display they carefully adjusted each other’s cocks, straightening them up so they were against their abs, already powerfully hard.
But they hadn’t seen anything yet. Steve’s ass, legs, and feet were starting to swell, growing backwards, the shorts he was wearing and even the socks and shoes growing along with them. Brad became even more excited, watching the legs expand as they kissed excitedly, groping his burgeoning ass; Steve seemed half in a trance. The Sebastians watched enthralled, one pressed against the other’s back and stroking his clone’s body and cock through the gray gym clothes.
Then suddenly Steve’s legs, ass and feet divided and he was standing on four awesome legs, each one with a massive, foot-and-a-half-long foot still encased in newly supersized sneaks. At the same time Steve’s already massive cock shot up rapidly, swelling into three super-long, super-wide boners, squeezing urgently between the two hunks as they sprang up, their heads finally emerging near Steve’s broad, muscular shoulders.
The Sebastians gasped, and without warning came violently, their swollen cocks exploding unexpected amounts of cum. Steve and Brad both snapped their heads around, staring at them with fear and arousal. “Seb! Michel!” Steve said. “Oh my God—”
The clones were gripping hard to each other, the one in back with his arms locked around his twin's thick, muscular shoulders and meaty pecs. They were still cumming but slowly subsiding, their bodies and faces flushed red. They heather-gray workout shirts were soaked with cum in front, plastered to scrub-board abs and palm-wide, torpedo-shaped cocks. They were panting hard, their eyes locked on the apparition before them, eyes shining with lust. “Don’t stop,” the one in front said. “We haven’t seen anything this hot since Peter,” said the other. Their light, buttery French accents sent shivers up Steve's spine, but what they said was even more stimulating.
Steve’s eyes lit up. “Did you say Peter?” he said, slowly setting Brad down and turning toward the “twins,” a gorgeous ten-foot-tall human cock with huge overpumped muscles, four massive feet—and three incredible cocks of his own, wider than Sebastian’s wrist and pressed proudly against his ballooning pecs. He turned and walked toward them a little, and they watched every muscle move, his long legs and asses rippling under the taut, sweat-damp skin, his impossible cocks bobbing slightly but still pressed hard against the pecs. Little trickles of sweat slid from his pecs and dropped to the floor. The clones were so aroused they came a little more, thick warm cum now that coated their cockheads and made the random rubbing against their abs as they shifted their weight instant pleasure.
For his part, Brad, now on his feet and standing only as tall as Steve’s cock- concealed nipples, eyed the sweaty, aroused gym-rat twins with a hint of jealousy mixed with a great deal of ill-concealed lust for his own part. His own, naturally long cock was poking up past the collar of his loose open- collar shirt, quivering inches from his mouth. Absently he licked precum from it, watching as the twins watched fascinated.
The Sebastians nodded. “He could do stuff like this,” one said softly. “And a lot more,” added the other.
“What do you mean?” Steve and Brad said together, both moving closer to the twins, who now resumed caressing their own bods, slowly and softly.
The Sebastians exchanged glances, then turned back to the aroused lovers.
“I used to be just one guy,” one of them said quietly.
“Shit,” Brad said. His cock started to leak precum in a steady flow, dampening the collar of his shirt. Steve gaped down at them and actually seemed to get more aroused—he winced momentarily as his head banged against the ceiling.
The Sebastians grinned. “I know how you feel,” they said together. “It’s a constant stimulation and distraction for us,” one of them added. They were still groping their hot hard bodies, the one behind humping the one in front ever so slightly.
“I was in what you would call high school back in Provence,” the other went on. “I was about to graduate. Peter showed up in town, and I instantly fell in love with him the first time I saw him in a café in town, wearing nothing but a worn shirt and jeans, always barefoot.” “That excited me,” said the first, and the other nodded.
“Without even thinking about it I sat down next to him at the café. He seemed to look right through me. We talked for a while. He said he was in town researching at the university. I asked what he was researching, and he winked and said ‘My own latent talents.’ For some reason that got me totally aroused.”
Steve was now stooping slightly, the back of his head pressed against the ceiling. He blinked and elected to sit down, folding his four luscious legs together. Brad sat in his lap, leaning against the three throbbing cocks. |Steve wrapped long, lithe arms around him.
“I can’t say why, but Peter seemed to sense my arousal,” the Sebastian in front continued as the one in back caressed his arms and nuzzled his neck. “We were completely in sync, somehow, and before I knew it we were back at my tiny apartment making love. I was amazed at how much better it was than any sex I’d ever had. I think he changed some while we were writhing together, though I didn’t notice at the time. I thought the throes of passion were making it seem like his shoulders were broader and his cock seemed to be pushing farther inside me than I thought it would.” Steve was absently caressing Brad’s gymnast body and enormous cockshaft, his longfingered hands almost twice the size of Brad’s.
“It lasted for hours,” the other one carried on. “Finally I slept. When I woke up Peter was gone. My heart stopped—I thought I’d never see him again. But I got up and stumbled into the kitchen. And there he was—making out with someone!”
“I was so upset, and yet I was instantly aroused. They were both naked, their beautiful bodies wrapped around each other. I was staring, my cock getting harder and harder, and thinking not only did these two men have gorgeous bodies—their bodies looked alike. Very alike. Skin tone, muscle definition—”
“Then they looked up. And both of them were Peter.” Steve and Brad were listening open-mouthed, intensely aroused, cheeks flushed. Precum was leaking steadily down Brad’s long, long cock.
“The three of us had sex all day. We were insatiable. I was in heaven, pressed between these two gorgeous men and their animal passion. And Peter’s confidence grew as we went on, surrendering to his own fantasies. Slowly I started to realize that his muscles were bigger, heftier, though he kept them lithe and graceful. And his cock looked bigger, thicker, and longer every time I looked at it, and the cock on one body was always bigger than the other.”
“Then I started to change.”
All four of them were totally turned on now, breathing short. The Sebastians’ cocks, which had never softened, were now twitching with suppressed desire.
“I looked down while I was getting simultaneously fucked and sucked and I realized that my body was—better than it had ever been. Like I’d been working out all my life. I came in Peter’s mouth right then, my whole body shuddering with electricity, and the cock I pulled out of Peter’s mouth, still incredibly hard, was twice as big as what had gone in. He just leered up at me. I grinned back, and my brain became swamped with desire, gratitude, and desire. I wanted more.”
“I went mad with passion, and I don’t remember much of the rest of the night, just glorious lovemaking, orgasms beyond endurance. I sort of came to in the middle of the night…”
“Peter was lying on top of me—”
“—And Peter was lying on top of me!”
At this incredible memory the twins twisted around and started kissing and groping each other, unable to contain themselves any more, and the sight was so amazing that Steve and Brad, already close to the edge from the story, pushed up to the flash point as the clones worked themselves into a frenzy, and with a sudden access of pure joy all four of them exploded right then and there, their entire bodies thrilling as electric cum poured out of their ubercocks, the twin locked in passion, Brad locked in Steve’s huge embrace.
They remained where they were for a long time, not moving, sated with pleasure and burning for more.
Suddenly a light rattling sound made Steve raise his head from where he’d been softly kissing Brad. It sounded like the doorknob to his room right behind him.
“Shh!” he said. “I think I hear something.”
