Controlling Shayne’s body

by Ballmeat

My roommate Jack suddenly got an app that controls my body, and milked me of every drop of my cum by giving me the longest and most intense orgasm of my life. And it looks like this is just the beginning, and he intends to change my body in even more ways to come!

“Shayne, come here a moment, I need to try something out,” my roommate Jack hollered to me from the living room.

“What is it you little shit, I’m not even dressed yet.” I had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped only in a towel, and my hair was still damp and the steam from the shower was clinging around my body.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s only going to take five minutes.”

My roommate was an absolute dork, but we’ve been friends since we were kids. Our lives really diverged when I got into sports in high school while Jack still preferred just stayed at home and played computer games, but he was still my oldest friend which was why he was my preferred roommate. When I got to the living room, Jack was holding up his phone like he was recording me with his camera.

“If this is another stupid TikTok trend—” I started to say, but stopped. All the words got stuck in my throat, because my dick suddenly got painfully hard. Really, really hard. My cock instantly inflated like an emergency life raft, ballooning from its soft post-shower state to its full six inches in a fraction of a second.

I clutched at my dick through the towel around my waist. “What the fuck is going on?” I shouted, bewildered. My penis was throbbing painfully with the biggest erection I have experienced in my life, and I didn’t know how something like that is possible.

“Wow, it really works,” Jack said.

“What works? What is happening to me? Are you the one doing this?” I was hunched over, grabbing at my penis like it was some kind of joystick, wondering how to calm it down. I should honestly have been more embarrassed sporting a full erection while nearly naked in front of my roommate, but my mind was completely filled with the singular thought of getting my raging boner under control.

“Yeah, I’m the one doing it. It’s this app on my phone,” Jack explained.

“Well, stop it. Gimme that phone!” I lunged at Jack, but as I did, I suddenly fell to my knees. My loose towel fell from my waist and revealed my diamond-hard throbbing penis with its engorged purple head pointing to the ceiling.

It felt like my whole body was engulfed by a muscle cramp. I arched my back, but also tensed up my abs, it felt like the muscles on the front and back of my body were tearing me apart in opposite directions. It was like a hand cramp, when your hand gets all tensed up into a claw and whatever it is you do you can’t get it to relax. Except this time it was my whole body that was in this cramp. Then, I heard myself let out an involuntary roar.

It wasn’t until I saw the first jet of cum shot out of my cock like a bullet out of a rifle muzzle that I realized I was experiencing the biggest orgasmic spasm I had felt in my life. The white bolt of sperm spurted out of my purple glans at the same time as I let out a roar. I could feel my glutes and thigh muscles tense, and muscles I couldn’t even name deep inside my loins coiled up like a spring in me before releasing all their force into that first shot of cum.

My cum went straight to the ceiling and splattered into an impossibly wide puddle. It felt like I had enough force in that first shot of cum to put someone’s eye out. I looked up, eyes wide open, mouth agape, unable to say or think anything except to look at my big, damp ceiling-staining cum puddle.

I vaguely heard Jack say “Whoa” before my whole body was wracked again with another orgasmic cramp. This time was no less intense than the first time. I let out another roar as all the muscles of my lower body tensed up again and catapulted another impossible forceful slug of my hot sperm into the ceiling.

The aim was exact, and the second cumshot landed exactly in the middle of the ceiling-puddle of the first. This time, some of the sperm ricocheted off the ceiling and got splattered right back at me, sprinkling me with a spray of my own cum.

My abs and back were still fully tensed up like they were in a muscle cramp. At the same time, the most mind-numbing orgasmic ecstasy was filling up my brain. I literally couldn’t think. The only thing I knew was at that moment, my only purpose in life was to orgasm and shoot sperm from my erect cock. My whole body was tuned to this one purpose of being in orgasm and ejaculating. Every muscle and fibre in my body was dedicated to squeezing as much of the fluids out of my testicles and prostate and shooting them as hard and far as possible.

I roared again and my mind entered deeper into an ecstatic, orgasmic daze. Another voluminous slug of my reproductive liquid got launched like a rocket out of the hardest erection I had experienced in my life, before splashing once more onto the ceiling and ricocheting back down again, sprinkling me with another fine dusting of sperm.

These three shots of cum couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds for me to pump out, but it felt like time had slowed down and all my brain functions for processing time and my surroundings were shut down. The only thought I had was this big orgasmic energy thundering from my cock to the rest of my body. All I could do was cum.

I must have looked pretty stupid to Jack, kneeling down, with my hard cock in the air, my mouth wide open, and my abs and the rest of my muscles tensed up like I was flexing to show off. But there was literally nothing I could do about it. And by the time the fourth cumshot came out of my cock, I really didn’t care anymore. All I wanted to do was to cum and enjoy this mind-breaking orgasm.

I knelt there like some perverse naked fountain, shooting powerful slugs of semen into the ceiling until my brain lost the capacity to count. I was like a machine gun set to automatic, firing off white bullets one after the next. It was the only thing I could do at the moment, and the only thing I wanted to do.

After what seemed like an absolute eternity, I realized that I wasn’t actually shooting out any more semen. My cock was still rock hard and throbbing, and its purple head looked bigger and more swollen than ever. My body was still in a cramped state, and every few seconds the muscles inside me would still tense up and send me into another wave of orgasmic ecstasy, but I had simply run out of semen left to shoot.

Still, my orgasm did not die down. Each orgasmic spasm was just as intense. I was beginning to wonder if it would ever end, but my thoughts were completely wiped out by the next orgasm clearing my brain of every other thought. Without the cumshots, it must have looked like I was just flopping on the floor while sporting a huge erection and covered in the slime of my own semen.

Finally, it was all over. I collapsed on the floor, panting. My back muscles and abs hurt like hell. My balls and prostate felt like they were on fire. My urethra felt like someone had rubbed hot sauce all over its inside. My skin was slick with sweat and the semen that had splattered from off the ceiling.

I looked up, and it seemed like half the entire ceiling of the living room was thoroughly soaked with a huge stain of my cum. All around me, the floor was slippery with a circle of splattered cum that splashed off the ceiling. This was such an impossibly huge volume of cum, and it felt like my body had been wrung dry of every ounce of non-essential liquid to produce it. It was no wonder that I felt so weak from this orgasm.

I had to catch my breath for at least ten minutes, like I had just finished running a marathon, before I was finally able to lift my head up. Groaning, I lifted my body off the floor and slowly stood up.

“What the fuck was that? What did you do to me?” I spat out, staring daggers at Jack, but not daring to take another step in case he sent me into another involuntary orgasm like before.

“It’s this app,” he said nonchalantly, pointing at his phone, “it mysteriously appeared and said it could control your body. Currently only two functions, the erection and orgasm function are unlocked, but it said I could unlock more features by getting you to complete tasks. One of the tasks was to have a five-minute long orgasm, and you just did that.”

“That was five minutes?” I was bewildered, “That must have lasted hours.”

“Yeah, I set the erection and orgasm intensity to maximum,” Jack explained. He smirked and said, “looks like you were enjoying it though.”

“I was not enjoying it at all,” I lied, “how could you do this to me? That was painful and shocking. Yuck, my whole body is covered with cum, I need to take a shower again. Just delete that app and never use it on me again.”

“No way. I’m going to use this app whenever I want and however I want. Shayne, you’re always strutting around like you are some big alpha male and leader of our friend group, and now I finally have something to hold over you. Plus it’s super fun to watch you cum, and I think I just unlocked a few fun functions.”

I broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of my roommate getting even more control over my body and body parts. I wondered if I could be fast enough to snatch his phone out of his hand before he had time to activate his app, but I was still exhausted and physically weakened from my record-breaking orgasm, and I thought better of it.

“Listen Jack,” I started to explain, “I’m sorry if I was a bit of a jerk to you in the past, but I’ll make sure to change. You don’t have to do something so drastic—” I stopped talking again because I could feel my penis pop into that instant, painfully erect hardon again.

“Jack, please,” I started to beg. But then I noticed that my cock was slowly shortening in length.

“No, no, no,” I panicked and tried to grab my penis. But my hands were slick with sweat and cum like the rest of my body, and my cock slipped right through my fingers as inch after inch disappeared into my body.

It felt like a nightmare. I wasn’t particularly well-endowed, but had a solidly average cock of a little under six inches. But now I could only watch as my average cock retreated into my crotch, going down to five, then four, then three, then two inches. Finally, only the circumcised glans of my cock was left, and the shrinkage stopped.

I stared at my body in shock. The treasure trail of hair than ran down the middle of my well-defined abs ended in a thick bush of hair that now completely hid my cock. I could also feel that my cock was still at maximum hardness. My penis at its maximum length now couldn’t even be seen out of the nest of my pubes. I was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry Shayne, it’s only temporary.”

I looked up at my roommate with pleading eyes, all my pride and dignity gone, “Please Jack…”

“The next challenge is for you to go one month with a one-inch dick. You can do just one month, right?” Jack smirked and added, “Hope your gym buddies don’t see you with your micropenis though.”

I looked back down at my nearly-invisible erection in dismay. How could I even call myself a man with a dick this small? This was so humiliating.

“I can’t wait to see what other functions completing this challenge unlocks next!” Jack said, and then laughed. I shuddered at the thought. Things were only going to get even worse from now on.

My name is Shayne, and my erect penis was forcibly shrunk by my annoying little roommate with an app.

When my cock was being shrunk, it felt like there was a hand gripping the other end of my cock inside my crotch and tugging it in. I fought it of course, and tugged on the head of my cock like it was the knob of a handle, trying to get a good grip to pull it back out. But my hand was slick with sweat and cum from a five-minute-long involuntary orgasm. My fingers kept slipping on my erection, and that invisible force inside me was relentless and too persistent.

My penis was like the rope in a tug-of-war competition, and the side with the cum-slippery hands was definitely losing. It felt like my cock was being stretched to its limit even though it was actually shrinking in size. Inch after inch of my initially 6” cock disappeared inside my hairy groin, until there was too little cock left for my fingers to hold on to, and I just gave up. I let go, and the rest of my shaft got instantly pulled in. One side of the tug-of-war had won!

I stared down at my cock in disbelief. Hidden by my unshaved pubes, it was just a cockhead. My circumcised cockhead sat exposed, poking out of my groin with no shaft extending behind it, like a baby bird peeking out of a nest of black wiry hair.

Weirdly, I was still rock hard. It was so hard, there was no way I could get any harder than I was– and yet my fully erect cock was a one-inch nub of a cockhead. I’m a tough guy, and am not one to shed tears, but even the toughest guy in the world is going to feel shaken and humiliated when he suddenly finds himself endowed with a one-inch cock.

“Please, Jack,” I pleaded, “I have a date tonight.”

I shouldn’t have said anything at all. All Jack did was laugh like he just heard the funniest joke in the world.

The worst thing about my app-controlled penis was the permanent erection.

My asshole of a roommate decided to set my cock to maximum hardness and refused to dial it down. I’m literally, constantly fully erect. This made me hyper-aware of my penis all the time, and more than half of my brain space is now dedicated to trying to ignore my erection.

Whether I’m eating, or at the gym, or anywhere else, my cock would always be rock hard and demanding my attention. My hands keep unconsciously straying to my cock and rubbing it. When trying to sleep, I keep involuntarily humping my bed. When doing a bench press, I would keep arching my back and humping the air. I was the horniest man in the world.

My permanent erection was easy to hide, since it was only one inch long. You wouldn’t notice it even if I freeballed in shorts or sweatpants without any underwear. Jack thought I would get teased at the locker room or showers at the gym, but all I had to do was never change or shower at the gym and nobody was any the wiser. I had to give up on sex and dating, which was difficult for a guy as hot as me. I was constantly getting the attention of girls, but there was no way I could bring any of them on a proper date with a proper conclusion while I was so poorly equipped.

After a just a few days of abstinence and not getting laid, I got way too horny and needed to jerk off. The problem was that I was used to jerking off with a full six inches of cock meat in my hand, not this tiny excuse of a dick that only had a cockhead. There was nothing for my hand to grip and jerk.

The only way I could play with myself was to rub my cock nub like it was a clit.

I bought a bottle of lube, stripped naked in my apartment bathroom, and stared at my crotch in the bathroom mirror. I still couldn’t believe that most of my cock was just… gone, taken away by my stupid roommate’s stupid app for a month.

I dribbled a few drops of clear lube from the bottle onto two of my fingers. My male pride made me hesitate a little, before I reached down and applied my fingers to my cockhead like I was fingering some girl’s clit. I shuddered at my own touch.

The cool lube on my fingers stroking my cockhead felt like nothing I had ever felt before. It didn’t feel like I was only rubbing my cockhead with two fingers, it was like all the nerves of my entire cock shaft got concentrated in my glans as it shrunk, so my cockhead was several times more sensitive than normal. If I closed my eyes, it felt like my two fingers were actually a whole hand expertly stroking my entire six-inch dick. I moaned and rubbed my nub even faster.

I could feel the pleasure build up inside my cockhead, growing like a little ball of pent up ecstasy about to be released. I didn’t want to make this a long jerk off session, I just needed to release some of the pent up horniness that has been building up from being maximally erect all the time. I fingered myself as fast as I could, willing myself to reach orgasm as soon as possible.

After a few minutes, I could feel the pleasure build up more and more, driving me nearly crazy, but I still didn’t cum. I thought maybe I just wasn’t used to fingering myself (I wasn’t a girl with an actual clit, after all) so I was just using the wrong technique. I tried something different, slowed down the strokes of my masturbation, added more lube, varied the pressure of my fingertips. I even played with my nipples, trying to cum. Still, nothing.

This was impossible, I thought. I had been so horny for so long. Every time something accidentally jolted my tiny erection in the last few days sent a wave a near-orgasmic pleasure through my body due to how erect my cock was. As a red-blooded young man, why wasn’t I able to cum?

I kept playing with my microdick, and the pleasure kept building and building up inside my cockhead and prostate, like I was doing some marathon edging session. In reality, I was trying to just get this over with and cum. At the back of my head, a thought came up that maybe this had something to do with Jack’s stupid app, but the thought was quickly suppressed by the sheer horniness that was filling every corner of my brain.

With nowhere to go, all the pleasure from jerking off just kept getting built up until I stopped being able to control my own body. My balls were starting to ache with a massive case of blue balls. I could feel the pent up cum fluid building up inside my prostate with nowhere to go.

But still I couldn’t stop stroking my microdick. I was moaning uncontrollably like a wounded animal, playing with my nipples, playing with my cock, playing with every accessible erogenous zone on my body. My circumcised cockhead was rubbed until it felt red and raw. My hand was moving so rapidly without rest that my forearm was aching like crazy. But I just couldn’t stop.

I would probably have been stuck there forever, like some demented sex maniac masturbating his microdick in front of the bathroom mirror for all eternity, if Jack didn’t suddenly open the bathroom door.

“I was wondering what all that moaning was about when I got home. Turns out you were just having fun by yourself,” Jack said, almost matter-of-factly.

“Guh… please… cum… please,” I pleaded incoherently. I couldn’t think straight, through my thick pre-orgasmic daze.

“I probably should have told you that I turned off your orgasms so you can’t cum. Yikes, Shayne, how long have you been inside here?”

I couldn’t process Jack’s words, and also didn’t know how much time had already passed. All I could say in reply was, “Please… Jack.”

Jack looked at me up and down for a moment. I was still furiously masturbating shamelessly as my roommate looked on. My balls were aching so much from their delayed orgasm that it felt like they were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The veins of my right forearm were bulging from the strain of their impossibly long workout, and my cockhead and nipples were purple and swollen from being constantly stroked. My whole body was dripping with sex-sweat. It must have been quite a sight.

“Please…” I pleaded one last time.

“All right, all right,” Jack said, and casually took out his phone. He tapped the screen three times, and suddenly it felt like my whole world was filled with blinding light. I roared like an animal.

The dam of pleasure in my tiny shrunken cock finally burst. My orgasm spread from the tip of my cock through the rest of my body in a hot, searing wave. I couldn’t tell if the sensation was more like pleasure or more like pain.

I couldn’t see anything, or hear anything, all my senses were shut down. All I knew was that I was finally cumming. The ecstasy was like fire that scorched all my veins at once. It felt like my dick was being fried with a blowtorch, and then my entire body was thrown into a furnace.

This orgasm didn’t come in waves. It felt like a hundred orgasms compressed into a single intense moment.

I could feel my thick cum gushing out of my microdick like a fountain in one continuous torrent. It felt like I was ejaculating my entire body and soul out of my shrunken penis.

When the orgasmic moment was finally over, I slowly came back to my senses. I was panting, exhausted and out of breath. My whole body, but especially my right arm and my cockhead, hurt like hell from being overused. My eyes could finally focus again, and I saw what a mess I made of the bathroom.

Because of the shortness of my current one-inch dick, my cum shot out of me in a wide-angle spray. White semen as thick as molasses was slowly dripping off the surface of the mirror and the bathroom wall. It looked like someone had sprayed several bottles of Elmer’s glue everywhere.

“That’s a ton of cum. You must have been jerking off for a long time in here for all this cum to build up,” Jack remarked, clearly amused at my predicament. “Make sure to clean the bathroom up or I’m not letting you cum anymore.”

Jack’s flippant remarks triggered absolute rage in me. How dare he order me around! How dare he control my dick and erections! Who was he to tell me when I could or could not cum!

I may be tired and in pain, but I was still twice his size. I could easily overpower that pipsqueak and grab his phone from him. He was standing just a few paces away from me, I could do it in a second, and he would be completely helpless. I couldn’t keep living like this, with my manhood under my puny roommate’s control!

I lunged at Jack, planning to tackle him and wrestle his phone away from him. But as I did so, I suddenly felt an intense pain in my balls. It felt like someone had swung a baseball bat with all their strength right into my scrotum, dead center, and completely annihilated my nuts.

I fell to the ground, and immediately clutched at my balls, fulling expecting to find only a sack of mush where they used to hang between my legs. To my surprise and relief, my hands could feel my balls were still intact inside their low-hanging sack. They were throbbing with unimaginable pain, but at least they were still there.

“That was close, Shayne! You almost got me!” Jack laughed. “It’s one of the new features that got unlocked. The app will automatically punish a pre-selected body part of yours with maximum pain if you try attacking me or grabbing my phone. I chose your big balls as the target for the punishment, of course. That seemed the most effective. How does it feel?”

I groaned, still speechless from the pain. I played football, so I know how it’s liked to get hit in the groin, but this was on another level of pain. It was as though someone had isolated my balls and specifically targeted them to be crushed by a mallet. For a brief moment, I really believed my balls were smashed before I felt them in my hands.

“Looks like it hurt, didn’t it? Better not try attacking me again, Shayne. Face it, I control you now, and I’m just going to get more and more control as I unlock more features on this app.”

Still gently cradling my wounded gonads in my left hand, I slowly stood back up and looked Jack in the eye.

“This is cruel, Jack. I thought we were friends.”

“You’re pathetic, Shayne,” he spat. “You say we are friends, but you’ve never treated me like an equal before. You’re just scared about how the tables have turned now.”

It was true, I had always thought of myself as better than Jack, but being tortured in this way seemed like a very disproportionate response. I opened my mouth to retort, but Jack immediately cut me off.

“Enough, Shayne, I don’t want to hear another word from you. I’ll decide when you get to cum, and I’ll decide when you can get the rest of your dick to grow back,” Jack paused, “and that reminds me.”

He took out his phone and tapped the screen. My flaccid microdick, which until that point had retreated into my crotch and was lying flush with the surrounding skin, suddenly sprung rock hard again to its full one-inch length. I winced. My cockhead was still red and swollen from being rubbed too much, and the maximum hardness the app inflicted on me intensified the pain in my dick.

“Enjoy your erection for the rest of the month, Shayne.” Jack sneered and left.

I groaned.

My dick and arms were sore from being uncontrollably jerked off.

My balls were aching like they had just been hit with a hammer.

My body felt drained from the most painful orgasm of my life.

I had a one-inch microdick that was permanently hard and horny.

My roommate could control my penis with a touch of a button and didn’t allow me to cum.

I was standing naked and sweaty in a bathroom completely covered with my own globby sperm.

How did my life become this bad? And is it just going to get worse from now on?

My name is Shayne, and my body and cock are being controlled by my annoying little roommate, Jack, with an app. First he made my dick permanently erect, and then he took away my ability to cum. For a few weeks now, my cock has been a constantly rock hard one-inch stub that is unable to reach orgasm. Jack says its to fulfill “challenges” in his stupid app that unlocks new “features”.

One morning, he announced he had a new challenge for my body out on his app. “You’re not allowed to wear shirts anymore,” Jack declared, tossing my entire wardrobe of tank tops and hoodies into a trash bag. “And these”—he held up a pair of neon-blue spandex shorts so thin they were practically translucent—“are your new gym clothes. The app won’t let you put on anything else.”

I stared at the shorts, my face burning. “You’re kidding. I can’t wear these. They’ll show everything.” My voice cracked on the last word. The shorts looked like they’d been designed for a male stripper—the waistband barely covered my hips, and the inseam was shorter than my boxer briefs. Worse, the fabric clung like plastic wrap. With my microdick still permanently erect, the outline of my tiny cockhead would be visible to anyone who glanced my way.

Jack smirked. “That’s the point. The app says you need to ‘embrace your new physique.’ And Shayne? If you skip the gym, it’ll force you to go anyway. You’ll just black out and wake up there. You’ll be at the gym in these shorts without a shirt on every single day.”

A few days later, I stood in my bedroom clutching a black muscle shirt like a lifeline. I had scavenged the shirt from under my bed after Jack threw away my other clothes. My reflection in the full-length mirror showed a body built for dominance—shoulders broad enough to carry trophies, abs stacked like armor plating, pecs that flexed involuntarily when I breathed. But now, stripped of shirts by Jack’s app, my skin felt too exposed, too vulnerable. The neon spandex shorts hugged my hips, their waistband cutting into the V of my obliques, my microdick straining obscenely against the fabric.

“Fuck this,” I muttered, yanking the shirt over my head. The cotton grazed my nipples—sensitive from days of forced shirtlessness. For three glorious seconds, I felt almost normal. Then the app struck.

It started as a prickle between my shoulder blades. Sweat beaded along my spine, cold and insistent. My pecs felt wet suddenly, the shirt darkening in a Rorschach blot of dampness. I froze, fingers still tangled in the hem. The mirror showed the fabric clinging to every ridge of my abs from sweat, transforming the loose shirt into a second skin.

“No,” I growled, yanking at the material. “No, no, fuck”

My balls chose that moment to twitch.

The first throb was subtle—a deep ache like blue balls after hours of edging. But as the sweat spread, soaking through the shirt’s armpits and pooling at the small of my back, the pain intensified. My testicles swelled, heavy as overripe fruit, each heartbeat sending pulses of heat through my groin. I clutched at myself through the spandex, fingers sinking into the dense weight of my sac. The touch should’ve soothed. Instead, it ignited.

“Ah—!” My back hit the wall as pleasure-pain lanced up my spine. The app wasn’t just punishing me—it was fondling me from inside my scrotum. Invisible fingers kneaded my balls with cruel precision, rolling them like dough, squeezing until my knees buckled. Sweat cascaded down my torso now, the shirt transparent over my nipples. I reeked of panic and salt, the musk so thick I could taste it.

“Jack!” I bellowed, voice cracking. “Turn it off!”

No response. Just the relentless squelch of the app’s phantom grip, milking my balls with robotic rhythm. My cock—still trapped in its one-inch erection—leaked pre-cum in sync with each squeeze, the spandex waistband chafing the swollen head. I tore at the shirt, pecs rippling under sweat-slick cotton, but the fabric clung like a jealous lover.

The mirror showed a parody of masculinity: a big jock clawing at his shirt, biceps flexing uselessly, abs quivering under soaked fabric. My reflection’s face—flushed scarlet, lips bitten raw—stared back with animal desperation. The app dialed up the torment. Sweat poured from my pores now, rivulets carving paths through chest hair, dripping from my chin onto heaving abs. My balls burned, the invisible hand alternating between vicious twists and featherlight caresses that made my gut clench.

“Please,” I whimpered, back arching as a particularly brutal squeeze wrenched a moan from me. My thighs trembled, quads standing out in rigid relief. The room stank of my exertion—salt and musk and the tang of adrenaline. Through the haze, I registered the shirt’s seams splitting under the strain of my lats.

I lunged for the door, muscles screaming, every step sloshing sweat from my sneakers. The hallway mirror showed the shirt plastered to my body like a wet t-shirt contestant’s—pebbled nipples visible through fabric, cum-stained spandex leaving nothing to imagination. My balls swung heavily with each stride, the app’s phantom fingers now tugging, yanking my scrotum downward until I half-expected to feel tearing.

“Jack!” I crashed into his bedroom door shoulder-first. My roommate looked up from his phone, smirk already in place.

“Problem, Shayne?”

I doubled over, hands braced on knees, sweat pooling beneath me. “Make it stop,” I gasped. “The shirt—my balls—”

Jack leaned back, phone aimed. “Say please.”

The app chose that moment to crank the pain to eleven. My balls contracted violently, the sudden pressure drop yanking a sob from my throat. Pre-cum leaked freely now, warm trails down my inner thighs. I clawed at my shirt, ripping it in places.

“Please,” I choked out. “Jack, please.”

His thumb hovered over the screen. “Since you asked nicely.”

The relief was instantaneous. I collapsed to my knees, shirt hanging in tatters, chest heaving. My balls ached like they’d been through a meat grinder, but the phantom hands were gone. I reached down to grab my balls to make sure they were intact.

I stayed there, kneeling in my own sweat, until Jack’s laughter faded. There I was a sweaty, broken stud, fingers gingerly probing his battered balls, kneeling on the floor of my roommate’s room. When I finally stood, the remains of the shirt fell away, leaving me more exposed than before.

The gym awaited.

The gym was my temple. Or at least, it used to be. I’d spent years sculpting my body into something worthy of admiration—broad shoulders, chiseled abs, biceps that flexed like cobras when I lifted. Girls stared. Guys pretended not to. But now, strutting through the weight room in those obscene shorts, I felt like prey.

The spandex squeezed my thighs, riding up with every step until the hem barely grazed the bottom of my ass cheeks. My cock, a pathetic nub straining against the fabric, might as well have been neon-lit. I caught a group of guys snickering by the dumbbell rack. One mimed squinting at my crotch, and they all burst into laughter. My face flushed, but my body betrayed me: my nipples hardened, and a traitorous thrill shot down my spine.

I tried to hide in the corner by the cable machines, but the app had other plans. An invisible force yanked me toward the mirrored wall where the gym’s most ripped guys preened. My reflection glared back—shirtless, sweating, exposed. The shorts left nothing to the imagination. My abs flexed involuntarily, and my pecs bounced as I paced, my body preening like a peacock on display.

“Nice shorts, bro,” sneered Derek, a linebacker I’d once mocked for his steroid gut. He leaned closer, his breath hot on my ear. “You trying out for the Chippendales or something?”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but the words died. My eyes flicked downward. Derek’s tank top gaped, revealing a thick thatch of chest hair and the curve of his pectorals. A strange, syrupy heat pooled in my stomach. No. I tore my gaze away, but not before my cock twitched in its spandex prison.

Back in the locker room, I faced the mirrors again. The app’s compulsion to “show off” lingered like a drug. My hands drifted to my abs, tracing the ridges as if I’d never felt them before. My skin buzzed under my fingertips. I turned sideways, admiring the sweep of my lats, the cut of my obliques. My reflection was… sexy. The thought hit me like a punch.

Stop it. You’re not some vain queer. You’re straight, I thought to myself.

But the more I stared, the harder it became to look away. My thumb brushed a nipple, and I gasped. Pleasure crackled through me, sharp and electric. My other hand slid lower, grazing the waistband of the shorts. I could feel the outline of my cock, small but insistent.

“See something you like?”

I spun around. A guy from the swimming team stood behind me, towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets glistened on his toned shoulders. My throat went dry.

“I—no. Just… checking my form,” I muttered, scrambling to grab my bag.

He smirked. “Sure you were.”

The walk home was agony. Every jogger, every construction worker, every guy in a tight T-shirt seemed to glow with a magnetic pull. I caught myself staring at the curve of a delivery man’s biceps, the sweat-darkened waistband of a cyclist’s shorts. My body hummed with a hunger I didn’t recognize—a craving to touch, to be seen, to submit.

Jack was waiting on the couch, grinning at his phone. “Unlocked a new feature,” he said. “Turns out the app can tweak your… preferences. You were always such a homophobic self-described alpha male, so how does it feel to be attracted to men? Enjoy the view at the gym?”

I lunged for him, but my body froze mid-step. The app’s punishment protocol flared—my balls suddenly felt like a baseball bat had hit them and that dropped me to my knees. My back arched at the explosion of pain that felt like my manhood being destroyed, and a moan tore from my throat as I clutched pathetically at my precious balls through the tight spandex holding them in place against my crotch.

“You’re learning, Shayne,” Jack smirked. “But we’re just getting started.”

The craving hit me like a drug withdrawal.

It started as a twitch in my jaw—a phantom ache to bite down on something thick and warm. Then my tongue grew restless, flicking against my teeth as if searching for a flavor it couldn’t name. By the third day of Jack’s “preference adjustments,” I caught myself staring at the bulge in his sweatpants during breakfast. The outline of his soft cock pressed against the fabric, and my throat clenched with sudden, desperate hunger.

“See something you want?” Jack said, not looking up from his cereal.

I forced my eyes away. “Fuck off.”

But my body didn’t listen. My nostrils flared, catching the musky scent of him—laundry detergent and sleep-warm skin. My dick, still trapped in its humiliating one-inch erect state, throbbed insistently. The app had rewired me. Every cell in my body screamed that Jack’s cock was the answer to a question I’d never asked.

That night, I found myself outside his bedroom door, barefoot and shirtless. The app’s compulsion hummed under my skin like a live wire. My knuckles hovered an inch from the wood. Walk away, I told myself. You’re not this pathetic.

But my fist rapped twice before I could stop it.

“Come in,” Jack called.

He was lounging on his bed in boxers and a faded band T-shirt, phone in hand. The glow of the screen lit his smirk. My eyes zeroed in on the tented fabric between his legs.

“Can’t sleep?” he said, feigning concern.

I swallowed. My mouth flooded with saliva. “I… I need…”

“Use your words, Shayne.”

The app sent a jolt through my groin—not pain, but need, sharp and urgent. I dropped to my knees beside the bed. The carpet bit into my skin, but I didn’t care. My fingers trembled as I reached for his waistband.

Jack clicked his tongue. “Ask properly.”

“Please,” I rasped. “Let me… suck it.”

“Suck what?”

My face burned, but I really needed it to the point of desperation. “Your cock. Please.”

He pretended to consider it, scrolling lazily through his phone. I stared at the rise and fall of his chest, the way his boxers shifted as he adjusted his legs. When he finally nodded, it felt like mercy.

I peeled his boxers down slowly, my breath hitching as his cock sprang free. It wasn’t huge—maybe four inches soft—but to me, it was a masterpiece. The scent of him washed over me: salt and skin and something primal that made my head spin. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.

“Go on,” Jack said, his voice tight. “Show me how much you want it.”

I leaned in, my nose brushing the coarse hair at the base. His cock twitched against my cheek, and a drop of precum glistened at the tip. I moaned without meaning to.

The first lick was tentative—a swipe across the slit to taste him. The flavor exploded on my tongue: bitter and sweet, like dark chocolate cut with sea salt. My eyes rolled back. More. I lapped at the head, greedy now, my hands gripping his thighs to steady myself.

“Fuck,” Jack hissed. His fingers tangled in my hair.

I took the tip into my mouth, suckling gently. His precum seeped over my tongue, richer than anything I’d ever tasted. My hips ground against the bedframe, seeking friction for my own aching dick. The app had made me a addict, and Jack’s cock was my fix.

“Deeper,” Jack ordered, tugging my hair.

I obeyed, sinking down his shaft inch by inch. My throat fluttered, resisting, but the app smoothed the way—some neural override that left me gag-free. His cock hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed instinctively. The vibration made him curse.

“Fuck, Shayne… where’d you learn that?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My world narrowed to the weight on my tongue, the pulse of his heartbeat against my lips. I hollowed my cheeks, dragging my mouth up until only the tip remained, then plunged back down. Each movement was mechanical, perfect, as if the app had uploaded instructions directly to my spine.

Jack’s hips bucked. “Shit—slow down!”

But I couldn’t. My body was a puppet, and his cock was the strings. I bobbed faster, sloppy now, drool dripping down my chin. The taste of him consumed me—earthy and addictive, a drug I’d kill to mainline. My free hand crept between my legs, rubbing my pathetic nub-dick through the spandex.

“For a guy who only just became gay, you’re really good at this,” Jack panted.

The compliment should have gutted me. Instead, it lit a fire in my belly. I really did enjoy this, I craved it even. I moaned around his cock, the vibration wrenching a gasp from him. His thighs tensed, and I knew he was close.

When he came, it was violent.

His back arched off the bed, heels digging into the mattress. “Gonna—fuck—!”

The first spurt of his sperm hit my tongue like melted caramel. Thick, sweet, alive. I swallowed greedily, milking his cock with my throat. His cum kept coming, painting the back of my mouth in hot stripes. I stroked his shaft with my tongue, working out every drop until he shoved me away, oversensitive.

“Enough,” he gasped.

I sat back on my heels, chest heaving. Cum glazed my lips. My tiny little nub of a dick throbbed, untouched and ignored as though it was completely useless and unimportant. The aftertaste of his cum lingered—honey and iron and something indefinably smelling of Jack. I licked my lips, chasing the remnants.

“You’re disgusting,” Jack said. His hand was still in my hair, petting me like a dog.

He was right. I was disgusting. A former jock turned cocksucker, kneeling to swallow my roommate’s cum. But as the shame rose, so did the craving. My tongue darted out, swiping a stray drop from his softening cock.

Jack laughed, low and mean. “Want more?”

I nodded before I could stop myself.

“Next time,” he said, pushing me toward the door. “Now get out. You’ve got to go to the gym tomorrow morning.”

In the hallway, I pressed my forehead to the cool wall. My reflection in the night-black window showed a stranger—glassy-eyed, lips swollen, chin glistening with the leftovers of Jack’s cum. I should have been repulsed.

Instead, I licked my lips clean and went to bed hungry.

The next morning at the gym, the barbell clattered against the gym floor, its thud drowned out by my ragged breathing. A personal best. My lats screamed, my glutes burned, and the veins in my neck felt ready to burst. But none of it mattered. The pain was a relief—a distraction from the hunger gnawing at my gut.

I chalked my hands again, the white powder clinging to sweat-slick palms. Across the weight room, a college kid in a tank top reracked his dumbbells, his biceps flexing as he stretched. My tongue darted out, phantom memories of Jack’s cum flooding my mouth. Focus. I gripped the bar. Lift. Just lift.

The app had locked my orgasms. Two weeks since I’d tasted release, two weeks of blue balls and midnight cravings. My cock stayed trapped in its one-inch prison, throbbing nonstop, while my mind fixated on every bulge in every pair of gym shorts. The more I denied myself, the sharper the hunger grew—a feral need that made even the scent of men’s deodorant irresistible.

I deadlifted until my vision blurred. Five reps. Ten. The plates rattled like chains. Sweat pooled in the hollow of my throat, dripped down my heaving abs. I caught my reflection in the mirror: a shirtless brute with a predator’s build and prey’s desperation. The neon spandex shorts clung to my ass, framing my useless microdick for anyone who cared to look.

“Hey, can you spot me.”

The voice came from behind—light, cocky. I turned to see Caleb, a wiry sophomore I’d mocked relentlessly last semester for his noodle arms and babyface. He was benching 135, a warm-up weight for me, but his chest flushed pink with effort.

“Not your fucking servant,” I snapped, but my traitorous feet carried me to the bench anyway. The app’s puppet strings yanked harder these days.

Caleb grinned up at me. “Thanks, Shayne.”

His shorts rode up as he lifted, exposing milky thighs and a bulge that made my mouth water. Fuck. My hands shook on the barbell. He reeked of Axe body spray and something muskier underneath. When he sat up, a bead of sweat trailed down his neck, and I nearly lunged.

“You okay, man?” Caleb frowned. “You’re, like… twitching.”

I fled to the squat rack.

Post-workout, the showers steamed like a sauna. I scrubbed myself raw, loofah scraping over pecs and quads, avoiding the ache between my legs. But the scent of Caleb’s soap—cheap, piney—drifted from the next stall. My cock strained against its confines, a live wire of unmet need.

“Dude, pass the shampoo?”

Caleb’s hand appeared over the divider, palm up. My fingers brushed his, and the contact sent a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was rounding the stall wall, towel forgotten.

He blinked up at me, water sluicing down his narrow shoulders. “Uh… what’s up?”

I dropped to my knees.

The tile bit into my kneecaps. Caleb’s dick hung soft between his thighs—thick, uncut, beautiful. My throat closed. Here, in this fluorescent-lit hell, the hierarchy I’d built my life on crumbled. This scrawny kid I’d terrorized had a cock bigger than mine had ever been.

“Whoa, Shayne, what the—“

“Please.” The word tore from me, raw and broken. “Let me… I need…”

Caleb’s eyes widened. He glanced at the empty showers, then back at me. “You’re joking.”

I wasn’t. The app’s compulsion locked my jaw open, tongue extended, begging.

I didn’t wait for permission. The app’s programming overrode pride, propelling me forward until my face hovered inches from his groin. Caleb’s scent hit me first—smelling of warm skin undercut by something darker, muskier. My tongue darted out, a tentative swipe along the underside of his shaft. He jerked, hips stuttering, but didn’t pull away. The taste of him bloomed on my tongue: salt-sweat and pre-cum, bitter as regret. My own cock twitched pathetically in its spandex prison, a half-inch nub straining against fabric.

“Fuck, Shayne,” Caleb breathed, voice cracking. “You’re actually—“

I silenced him with a full, open-mouthed kiss to the crown of his cock. His foreskin slid back under my lips, revealing a flushed, leaking head. My hands—hands that could deadlift four hundred pounds, that had shoved guys like Caleb into lockers—shook as they gripped his hips. The contrast was obscene: my thick, veined fingers splayed against his narrow waist, my biceps flexing as I steadied myself to service him. I licked a slow, torturous stripe from base to tip, savoring the way his thighs quivered.

“Do it,” Caleb whispered, half a command, half a plea.

I took him in.

The first inch stretched my lips. Caleb gasped, fingers scrabbling at the shower wall. “Fuck, your mouth’s hot…”

I hollowed my cheeks, working him deeper. His foreskin slid back, revealing a flushed head that bumped my palate. Salt and chlorine flooded my tongue—a taste I’d ruin myself for. My hands found his hips, anchoring myself as I took him to the root.

“Shit, you’re good at this,” Caleb groaned.

The praise should have gutted me. Instead, it stoked the fire in my belly. I was proud that I was a good cocksucker. I sucked like my life depended on it, nose buried in his pubes, breathing him in, my tears mixing with shower spray. His cock swelled, a relentless thickness that made my jaw ache. I’d never taken anything this big into my mouth before.

The steam from the showers coiled around us, thickening the air until every breath felt like swallowing gauze. Caleb stood frozen under the spray, water sluicing down his narrow shoulders, his lean torso, the soft curve of his hips—all of it dwarfed by the thick, uncut cock hanging heavy between his thighs. My mouth watered. My own body, a mountain of muscle honed through years of deadlifts and protein shakes, felt grotesque in comparison. Here I was, a hulking figure on his knees, trembling before a boy I’d once dismissed as a footnote, his cock a brutal reminder of my inadequacy.

Caleb’s hands fisted in my hair, tugging hard enough to blur my vision. I moaned, the vibration rippling through him, and felt his cock jump against my tongue. Deeper. My nose pressed into the coarse thatch of his pubes, the scent of him overwhelming now—pure male, primal, dominant. And if he was dominant, what did that make me? My throat fluttered, resisting, but the app smoothed the way, some cruel algorithm forcing my muscles lax. I swallowed him to the root, my lips meeting the wiry nest at his base. Caleb cursed, hips jerking, and I gagged reflexively, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Look at you,” he gasped, voice tinged with awe. “Big tough Shayne, choking on my dick.”

My hands slid around to grip his ass, fingers digging into soft flesh, pulling him deeper. His cock throbbed, a relentless invasion, and I hollowed my cheeks, sucking hard. Pre-cum flooded my mouth, metallic and sweet. I worked him with a rhythm I didn’t know I possessed—long, filthy drags punctuated by choked breaths. My own body betrayed me: nipples hardened to little hard points, abs clenching, microdick dribbling a pathetic smear of pre-cum onto the floor.

Caleb’s free hand found my shoulder, blunt nails biting into muscle. “Use your hands,” he ordered, breathless.

I obeyed. One palm cradled his balls, heavy and warm, while the roamed over his soft under-muscled body, and Caleb’s knees buckled.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, head thudding against the tile. “This is the best blow job ever.”

My world narrowed to the slide of his cock, the ache in my jaw, the shame of my own arousal. My tongue circled his frenulum, a tight, wet spiral that had him whimpering. His hips pistoned now, fucking my face in shallow thrusts, each one hammering home the power imbalance. Here was Caleb—scrawny, bookish Caleb—reducing me to a drooling mess, using my head like a fleshlight, my physique meaningless against the tyranny of his superior size and dominance.

“You love this,” he taunted, tugging my hair to meet my gaze. Water dripped from his chin onto my forehead, mingling with sweat and spit. “Bet you’ve dreamed about this, huh? Big muscle freak begging for my cock?”

He was right, I have been dreaming about this. I’ve only been dreaming about this for a few days, but what he said was true.

I moaned around him, the sound high and desperate. My hands trembled as they stroked his body—the softness of his stomach, the jut of his hipbones, every inch a mockery of my own athletic and muscular perfection. His cock swelled further, a brutal thickness that stretched my lips white. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but suck and stroke and serve, a grotesque parody of masculinity: biceps flexing, shoulders hunched, face buried in a lesser man’s groin.

“Gonna cum,” Caleb announced, voice fraying.

I redoubled my efforts, throat fluttering, hands kneading his ass. When he came, it was with a choked cry, fingers fisted in my hair. His cum burst bitter and briny, a tidal wave I struggled to swallow. It overflowed, dripping down my chin, and still I sucked, milking him dry.

Caleb looked down at me with puzzlement. “You’re… different now.”

I wiped my mouth, trembling. My reflection in the shower drain showed a man undone—a jock brought to his knees, literally and otherwise. Caleb’s cum lingered on my tongue.

“I’m actually straight,” I rasped.

He just laughed, and left me alone kneeling on the floor. The great Shayne, alpha of the weight room and the football field, reduced to servicing scrawny freshmen. I dressed in silence, the spandex shorts chafing my still-hard cock.

That night, I stared at the ceiling, Caleb’s taste haunting me. The app had won. It had reshaped my cravings, my pride. I was actually gay now, and somehow, I actually enjoyed it.

My phone buzzed. A text from Jack:

Caleb says you’re a natural.

“You’re going to give everyone a performance today,” Jack said the next morning. “I got an app update and got a new challenge for you to complete.”

I was dreading what this new challenge could possibly be. I left home and went back to the gym as I always had to. I stood shirtless in front of the gym’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a chrome barbell loaded with heavy iron plates gripped in my hands. My reflection showed every striation in my biceps, every ridge of my abs—a sculpture of vanity. The neon lycra shorts clung to my hips, the fabric stretched so thin over my microdick that the head glistened visibly through the material. I hadn’t chosen this. The app had autopiloted me here, overriding my protests, my shame, my dignity.

Curl.

The first rep was effortless. Biceps swelled into twin peaks, veins snaking down my forearms. A bead of sweat slid between my pecs. My cock, trapped in its permanent one-inch erection, pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Curl.

By the fifth rep, the burn set in. My biceps tightened like overinflated balloons, the barbell trembling at the apex. I started to sweat like crazy. Sweat poured out of my every pore and pooled in the divots of my collarbones. I looked like I had just climbed out of a lake. Was Jack doing this? I couldn’t control my body. Was this uncontrollable sweat because of his app? Across the gym, a group of guys paused their bench presses to watch. I caught their smirks in the mirror—amused, derisive. My face flushed, but my arms kept moving.

Curl.

The barbell clinked with each descent. My shorts rode higher, the hem creeping up my thighs to expose the crease of my ass. The app dialed up my sweat glands; perspiration sheeted down my torso now, turning my abs into a glistening washboard. My nipples hardened, sensitive nubs rubbing against the humid air.

Curl.

A guy on the elliptical stifled a laugh, eyes darting between my face and crotch. My microdick twitched, pre-cum blooming through the spandex. The app amplified the sensation—every droplet of sweat felt like a tongue dragging across my skin, every flex of muscle a caress. I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

Curl.

The weights grew heavier, or maybe my arms grew weaker. The barbell slipped an inch, tendons in my neck cording. My reflection in the mirror was grotesque: a hulking animal, red-faced and desperate, dripping with perspiration, shorts transparent with my microscopic arousal. Someone snapped a photo. All the gymgoer’s eyes everywhere were looking at me.

Curl.

Muscle fibers ached. My biceps ballooned grotesquely, veins throbbing blue-black. Sweat dripped from my chin onto the barbell, sizzling on the warm metal. My miniature cock ached, a persistent throb that radiated up into my gut. The app wouldn’t let me adjust my grip, couldn’t let me pause. All I could do was curl and drip and burn.

Curl.

The gym faded. Sound condensed to the creak of the barbell, the slap of my sweat on rubber mats. My pecs bounced with each rep, drawing more stares. A personal trainer paused mid-count to gawk. My shorts were soaked through now, the outline of my tiny cockhead unmistakable—a tiny, rigid button under clingwrap fabric.

Curl.

Pre-cum streaked my inner thigh. My balls drew up tight, a leaden ache with nowhere to go. The app’s programming overrode fatigue; my arms moved like pistons, biceps swelling until the skin threatened to split. A college dude mimed jerking off behind my back, his friends doubled over. Humiliation curdled in my gut, molten and nauseating.

Curl.

The gym mirror fogged with my steaming sweat. My body glistened like a waxed apple, every muscle hyperdefined under a liquid sheen. The barbell clattered—I’d dropped it, finally, but the app didn’t care. It marched me to the dumbbell rack. 50s now, alternating curls. Left arm. Right arm. Left. Right. A metronome of muscle and misery.

Curl.

My cock wept openly, pre-cum soaking a dime-sized stain into the spandex. The gym’s AC kissed my wet skin, raising goosebumps. I caught a whiff of myself—salt and musk and something sweetly chemical, pheromones cranked to eleven. Men shifted uncomfortably, adjusting their shorts. Women looked away, cheeks pink. Before I got controlled by the app I would have enjoyed this. Not anymore.

Curl.

The dumbbells slipped from my hands, denting the mat. The app rerouted my suffering to the cable machine. Tricep pushdowns now, arms trembling, lats flaring. Each extension jostled my cock, sending jolts of near-painful pleasure up my spine. My breath came in punched-out grunts. Someone murmured ‘roid rage’, but they didn’t understand—this was purer, darker, a forced humiliation with the very muscles I was so proud.

Curl.

By the time the app released me and I could move freely again, I was a spectacle. A puddle of sweat marked my territory on the floor. My shorts were translucent, microdick on full display, glans purple with denied release. The walk to the showers felt like a perp walk. Every snicker, every sidelong glance, every hissed insult carved deeper into my crumbling ego.

In the locker room mirror, I saw what they saw: a bodybuilder’s shell filled with obscene horny desperation. My hands drifted to my nipples, pinching hard, and a broken noise escaped me. I stumbled into a stall, back against cold tile. My arousal was on the brink of breaking me.

The bathroom stall door hadn’t fully latched before my knees gave out. I slumped against the tile wall, sweat-slicked back sticking to the grout lines, every muscle trembling with post-pump exhaustion. My cock—still trapped in its one-inch rigidity—throbbed like a second heartbeat, the spandex shorts now sheer with pre-cum and sweat. Through the gap in the door, I heard the clang of weights and muffled laughter. They were still out there, still watching, still waiting.

I pressed a palm to my leaking cockhead, hissing at the oversensitivity. The app hadn’t permitted release in weeks, but the pressure behind my balls felt volcanic, a tectonic ache threatening to split me open. My free hand fumbled with the shorts’ drawstring, nails scratching raw skin. “Just… fucking… come on,” I growled, yanking the waistband down.

The first spurt took me by surprise.

My microdick kicked like a live wire, spraying a rope of cum so thick it thwacked against the stall door. The orgasm detonated without warning—no build, no tremors, just a white-hot detonation that seared my nerves. I choked on a scream, back arching off the wall as my cock became a firehose. Cum rocketed out in a pressurized stream, painting the toilet paper dispenser, the toilet seat, the ceiling tiles in sticky stripes.

“Nngh—fuck—!”

It wasn’t just ordinary pleasure. It was a pleasure that felt like pure violence. My body convulsed, muscles seizing in a mockery of their earlier pump. The stall reeked of chlorine and sex, the air thick with the coppery tang of spent adrenaline. My hands scrambled for purchase, smearing cum across the stall walls as another volley erupted. The sheer force of it made me fall onto the toilet seat. My butt slammed against it with a plastic crack.

“Oh, oh fuck—“

Cum geysered in arcs now, rhythmic and relentless. My balls—swollen to the size of plums—vomited their contents in a grotesque parody of virility. The app had stockpiled every denied release, every edged hour, every humiliating suck session, and now it all came flooding out. Thick globs spattered the mirror above the sink, sliding down in viscous trails. My abs flexed uncontrollably, each contraction milting another jet.

“Someone call maintenance!” a voice shouted outside. “Pipe burst in the men’s room!”

Panic spiked, but my body wasn’t done. The orgasm mutated, pleasure curdling into something feral and punitive. My cock spat cum like a malfunctioning faucet, drenching my thighs, puddling on the floor, dripping through the stall’s cracks onto someone’s abandoned gym bag. I clawed at my pecs as the app dialed up the sensitivity to torture levels. Every droplet of cum felt like scalding wax mixed with pleasure; every spasm of orgasm ripped an involuntary gasp from my throat.

The door creaked open. A bunch of people were looking in at me cum.

“Shit.”

One of the people looking was Derek, the linebacker I’d made fun for years on our football team. He stood frozen in the doorway, phone raised. His eyes swept the carnage: me, shirtless and groin twitching in orgasm, pinned to a Jackson Pollock painting of my own jelly-like cum. And my cock, a pitiful nub still squirting semen, the stall glazed like a doughnut.

“Stop… filming…” I begged, arm flopping weakly.

“Nah,” Derek grinned, zooming in on my tiny cock. “This is for the group chat.”

The app chose that moment to wring me dry. A final, shuddering, giant load of cum splattered on Derek’s shoes as my vision grayed out. I slumped forward, forehead hitting the cum-slimed wall.

When the gym staff got to me minutes later, I was still spasming, still soaked in sweat and cum. They hosed the stall down with me in it, the cold water finally flushing away my pungent shame. I stumbled out of the toilet stall and looked in the mirror and saw myself for what I was: a former alpha jock bully reduced to a pathetic state, my manhood measured in millimeters for mockery.

Jack’s text buzzed as they escorted me out: [VID_51․mp4].

I didn’t need to open it to know what it showed.

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Three giant guys by MegaMaker Three short vignettes taking place in three separate universes, with three very hot growing guys.  3 parts 5,926 words Added Mar 2024 13k views 5.0 stars (6 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Self-suck•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Addiction•Getting Dumber•Hyper Muscle•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Public Nudity•Man Scent•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Giants•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Destruction/Violence•Hyper Pheromones•Shapeshifting •M

Axel breaks his record by MegaMaker Axel likes to get his growth fix with hot guys he can find, but this time his catch gives him his best fix ever and Axel decides to keep him. 7,620 words Added Apr 2024 19k views 5.0 stars (11 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Hyper Muscle•Pec Fucking•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Voluptuous Men•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Giants•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Lycra/Spandex•Shapeshifting •M/M

Sexi-Phi by BRK Joining a frat turns out to be a big transition for Holden, especially given the way his body is reacting to all his extra-hot house-brothers. 16 parts 92k words (#31) Added Jun 2023 Updated 5 Oct 2024 54k views 4.9 stars (59 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Self-suck•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Muscle Growth•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Getting Taller•Incest•Father/Son•Twins•Hyper Pheromones•Christmas•Complete •M•M/M

The procedure by UberPump Jerry finds out about a special, experimental procedure to make his cock and balls bigger. To pursue his life with a much bigger cock than his 8.5 inches of glory, he makes an appointment with Dr. Meyers. The procedure proceeds without a hitch, giving Jerry a much, much larger cock. However, Jerry is never satisfied. To him, “There’s no such thing as... too big”… right? 3 parts 12k words Added Jan 2024 Updated 25 Jan 2025 19k views 4.9 stars (48 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Cock Pumping•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Addiction•Other Mental Changes•Straight to Gay•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Forced Growth•Inflation•Bisexual•Hetero Sex•Nonconsensual change•Gross Bodily Fluids •M/M•NS

The boytaur next door by BRK Phil moves into a new apartment and is perplexed and aroused to discover that his new next-door neighbor has more going for him than most guys do. 4 parts 7,551 words Added Mar 2022 9,566 views 4.9 stars (11 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Multicock•Boytaur•Four Legs•Multiarm•Multileg•Multilimb•Multipec•Stacking•Muscle Growth•Always Shirtless•Gradual Change•Getting Taller•Retcon•Witch/Warlock/Wizard•Complete •M/M

Tell me about my boner by BRK The gag tee shirt with a provocative slogan seemed like a good idea when he’d ordered it during a late-night stroke session, but now that it’s here it seems intent on changing his life in ways he might not be ready for. 7 parts 20k words Added Oct 2019 Updated 3 Dec 2022 38k views 4.9 stars (42 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Multicock•Suggestion •M•M/M