Carlos Bunda and the billion-dollar dildo

by brazboy   

Carlos Bunda is Brazil’s number 1 secret agent, and is about to embark on a tense mission: rescuing the last of the four billion-dollar dildos which were lost after the fall of the Soviet Union. The task to retrieve this invaluable weapon sends him to Paris where he encounters Julien Monet, a former member of the French communist party who wants the power of the dildo for himself, not to mention the “bears”—a trio of Russian assassins desperate to recover their national secret weapon.

It was a sunny summer day, almost 40 degrees Celsius outside, and Carlos Bunda—the handsome young spy which was widely considered to be the best in the country—was wasting his time in a boring meeting room in the top-secret ABIN building in a suburb of Rio de Janeiro, instead of being at the beach as he should. His boss, Eduardo Pintassilgo, was standing in front of him in that dark office, presenting some slides. As he heard him speak, Carlos raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

“Sir, but what exactly is so important about this dildo?” he asked, leading Eduardo’s mouth to contort in anger—he absolutely hated being interrupted by mere agents, no matter how important their questions were.

“This, agent, is the most powerful Soviet weapon after the Tsar bomba: the billion-dollar dildo,” explained the older bureaucrat, pointing towards the huge picture behind him clearly showing a black-and-white photo of a large dildo. “It was developed between 1969 and 1989 by the communists as a special weapon against any US invasion, and it was considered by the Soviets to be an even more destructive weapon than the nuclear bomb. From what our intelligence has gathered, once inserted in a man’s ass, it will turn him into the perfect soldier. This may seem like an ordinary dildo, agent 0069, but don’t let its innocent appearance trick you—it is the last of the four prototypes which is not under the possession of a foreign government, and therefore we must acquire it immediately to assure the continued protection of our national interests!” he exclaimed with passion, and then changed the slide.

“I see,” responded Carlos when his boss took some time to breathe in, making one of the older man’s veins almost pop in ager—he really hated being interrupted. Trying to calm himself down, Eduardo had a glass of water before he pointed to the image shown in the slide—now they could see the picture of a large palace near Paris, France.

“Monsieur Arregot’s mansion—he is an eccentric French billionaire who made money selling wine and cheese and then bought an extensive collection of gay erotic art from all ages and countries. He lives with his roommate, a young Spanish man called Esteban who apparently never had a girlfriend, for some reason. Apparently, Mr. Arregot took possession of the dildo in a trip to Russia in 1991, right after the fall of the Soviet regime, without being fully aware of what it he was acquiring,” said the boss, changing the image once more—it now showed a large room full of gay erotic art: statues of men kissing and their dicks touching; pictures of naked muscular men having sex; and paintings of men whose cocks were big beyond imagination. In the middle of all of that, there it was: the large dildo, standing on a pedestal, under a thick glass cover.

“Your mission, agent 0069, is to infiltrate Mr. Arregot’s estate, get the dildo and bring it back to Rio, so we can research it. Do that while not arousing any suspicions about your activity, or about the location of the dildo. That way, we can continue keeping the country safe from any foreign threats,” said the boss, and then he looked down towards Carlos, as if expecting questions.

“And how can I do that?” asked Carlos. Eduardo laughed, and pulled a large perfect replica of the dildo they could see in the slide reflecting on the wall from under his jacket.

“Here!” he exclaimed, showing the large replica of the male body part and making in shake as he did so. “Our experts reproduced the dildo’s external appearance perfectly; all you have to do is replace the original one with this replica and everything should work out fine,” Eduardo added. Carlos Bunda still seemed unconvinced, as his instincts said this would be a difficult mission—but he couldn’t refuse it. Bored to oblivion, he just stood up and took the absurdly sized dildo from his boss’s hand.

“Okay, I’ll do it then,” he stated, and simply left the room without looking back, leaving his boss behind absolutely speechless. As he walked down the hallway to the equipment department, Carlos could only think one thing, something along the lines of: “Damn, what a huge dildo! What the hell are the Russians eating for them to make something so large!”

Indeed, the large fake penis that Carlos now had on his hands, and which he was squeezing curiously, was immense: 40 centimeters long, probably somewhere close to 25 around. He had never seen anything this immense, and he was surprisingly interested on it. Distracted, Carlos felt a hand on his shoulder and stopped on his tracks, looking back absolutely shocked that someone had gotten close enough to touch him without him noticing—damn, even this copy was this powerful! No wonder the soviets thought they could destroy the western world with their billion-dollar dildos.

“Carlos,” it was his boss, Eduardo, who was panting due to having to fast-walk after him, ‘You forgot the dossier,” he completed, handing him a large folder with documents, including maps and photos. “Without this number the equipment department cannot give you the material you need,” informed the commander, pointing out to the younger agent the code 145321 written on the cover of the folder, while trying to recover his breathe. He then completed, “Good luck, agent,” while saluting him, and Carlos saluted his boss before walking away and thinking to himself that that old geezer really needed to enter the retraining program and get back in shape.

“Only two guns and a few clothes? Aren’t you guys being too economical, this time around?” asked Carlos to the equipment department’s clerk who was giving him his materials for the mission, while he himself signed one form after another—Brazilian bureaucracy was, after all, famous for being complicated, and not necessarily efficient. The other man seemed annoyed by the observation, and pointed towards a pile of papers he had also brought.

“Well, that and 3 fake passports, four identities and 30 thousand dollars and 150 thousand cruzeiros in cash,” he pointed out, rudely. “Unless you want to return those, in which case I can take care of them myself.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant, João. I want gadgets. Small explosives, poison, binoculars, pens that shoot sleeping gas, that kind of thing,” said the agent while signing another form. This time it was “Form 1234-D on foreign currencies to be taken outside of the country.”

“Well, then you should have read the mission’s briefing,” said a slightly less annoyed João. “You must be secretive, and you absolutely must not be discovered. Look, it is right here,” he said, and then picked up the dossier and started reading, “discretion is of the essence, as the communist dildo is a weapon of mass destruction. The usage of force will be secondary, until the possession of the dildo is achieved, as no force can restrain the dildo if used against our agents. After acquiring the dildo, the agent is allowed to incorporate it in his arsenal of choices.”

“I see,” said Carlos, uninterested. “And does the text also say how to use the dildo, if I may ask?” João looked at Carlos and laughed.

“You are joking right? Isn’t it obvious?” he said, and Carlos shrugged, as he signed another document.

“No, it isn’t. Just explain it to me if you know so much about it yourself,” said the agent, flipping the page to sign another paper. João was laughing by this point, but he just made a circle with his hand, and then slid his other index finger in that hand-made orifice. Carlos slowly looked up at his gesture and couldn’t contain an eyeroll.

“I mean it, how does it work?” Carlos asked, a bit rashly. João took the dossier and showed Carlos an old image of a Soviet soldier being forcibly penetrated by the large human-like appendage. The picture focused on the soldier’s broad and wide-open ass cheeks, as well as his muscular legs which the scientists had pulled to the sides. The soldier, although he had no control over the situation, seemed to be enjoying having the dildo inserted on his ass. The subtitle bellows the image read, “Soviet scientists testing a prototype of the dildo in 1981; we believe the way to initiate the usage of the dildo remained the same in the following versions.”

“Oh, I see,” said Carlos, as his eyes scanned the image and text in front of him. “Yes, of course,” he said and bit his lips as he felt his dick get a little chubbier under his pants. He finally handed João the signed documents and grabbed the materials he’d take to the mission, and tried to imagine what it would feel like to be in the same place as that Soviet soldier. As he left—taking the dossier with him, of course—reopened the documents to check that old image a few more times in the next few hours.

“This thing is gigantic. Maybe I will have to practice,” he thought to himself.

Carlos jumped from the small airplane, opening his parachute and then landing on a small wheat field in a French suburb near Paris. He then cut away the parachute, hid it away under a series of grape vines, put his glasses, and walked all the way to the train station which stood between a typical chateau, a bakery and a café. There he took a train for three stops and got off at the stop closest to the property of Mr. Arregot. From there, he walked to the walls of the property and, finding the weak spot that had been identified earlier, he jumped the wall and hid on top of a tree where he took off his casual overclothes and climbed down, dressed in a fancy suit, ready to mingle with the mansion’s security.

Soon, Bunda had infiltrated the mansion’s security staff and had been called to help in escorting a major guest: Monsieur Julien Monet, former president of the French Communist Party until 1991, when he left the party to go on a series of expeditions in the former USSR and then in Greece and Egypt. Carlos went with one other member of the security team to follow M. Monet as he walked through the hallways of the huge mansion to meet Mr. Arregot in the exposition room—which was decorated with all imaginable sorts of male gay erotic art.

“Julien Monet, huh! I can hardly believe my eyes! The former president of the French Communists visiting my humble house. To what do I owe this pleasure, comrade?” asked Argot, jokingly, as he approached the visitor, until they greeted each other with a kiss in the cheeks.

“Arregot, I can with a proposition which might interest you,” said the former communist leader, making the billionaire’s eyebrows rise.

“What is it this time?” asked Arregot, looking at the sizeable bag Monet carried with himself, not really interested, as he saw no reason on earth to give his Soviet dildo up—a rare example of Soviet pornographic art, or so he thought.

Monet smiled and then lifted his bag and put it on a nearby marble table. It was heavy and it made a sharp noise when whatever was inside touched the stone of the table.

“Here, let me show you. You tell me if this is worth your time,” said the former politician with a sly smile before moving his hands to unzip the bag, and then open it, revealing a gigantic stone cock. “Apollo’s erect cock!” he announced, and Arregot literally gasped.

“You cannot be serious! And it is this large! It was supposed to have been lost forever! The cock of Apollo from the temple of Delphi itself! Do you… how did you get it?” asked the billionaire, already walking, while drooling, towards the beautiful and human like—albeit gigantic—piece of a statue. His cock throbbed under his luxurious clothes and Monet knew the Soviet dildo was as good as his.

“I have been to Greece and Egypt many times in the last few years… looking for cock in ancient art, something that might interest you. You know my interest for you piece of Soviet history. I knew I needed something equally unique to have you consider parting with it,” said Monet, and Arregot touched the cold stone, feeling with the palm of his hands the perfection of the sculptured cock—even the veins were portrayed; the droplets of cum in the cold stone seemed almost real! He imagined the many of priests who, over the ages, had performed religious ceremonies either ejaculating on it or taking it up their asses, reproducing in their rituals the legends of Hyacinth and Iapyx.

“It is incomparable! Your piece is over 2000 years old, imagine what it has seen! The rise and fall of classic civilization… I would give you anything you want for it! As long as it can be attested to be real,” said the owner of the Soviet dildo, with teary eyes as he was touching one of the great lost stone cocks of the world. “Let’s call an expert! If this is authentic, I do not want to let you walk away with it, or I wouldn’t forgive myself!” he exclaims and M. Monet smiles and his cock throbs under his clothes.

“Whatever you need, whatever you need. I have waited 30 years for this moment, what are a few more hours?” asked the former communist, making Arregot laugh and pat his back.

“And I have waited almost 50 years to see Apollo’s penis! You have no idea how happy you make me, Mr. Monet! I would give you anything in my collection for it, but I know all you are interested in is the Soviet dildo, for some reason…,” the collector started pondering, before M. Monet coughed to interrupt that line of thought.

“Emotional reasons, my old friend. It reminds me of the times of the Soviet Union, and it serves as a good argument in debates about how they were actually freer than most people think,” he lied in response, making the French former businessman waive his hand.

“Of course, of course… let’s call the expert and settle this issue. Apollo’s cock, in my collection! Let’s go and call him at once!” he said and then left the room with M. Monet, the two of them leaving both Apollo’s statue’s stone cock and all other art items in the exposition room—as normally.

Suddenly, Bunda found himself basically alone in the room, guarding the precious items. Besides the Soviet dildo in the middle, protected by a glass dome, you could see several gay pornographic items: Greek statues of Olympic winners having sex with one another; Roman frescos of male Gods playing with each other’s cocks; Egyptian and Germanic statues of penises for protection; Japanese and Chinese paintings of gay sex in royal courts or between members of ancient theater crews. The collection was not limited to ancient art, however—although M. Arregot did seem fond of older pieces of work, there were clothes used by crossdressers in Versailles and naked male portraits from renaissance Europe and early modern India, as well as copies of some of the first gay pictures and movies in recorded history, besides pretty much a copy of every book with contained scenes of gay sex published before 1950. All in all, it was the most complete collection of gay erotic art and similar materials in the world, although it was about to become a little less complete.

Carlos looked around, professionally, identifying the position of the two security cameras. Then, he went to each of them and put a small device on them so that the images would become scrambled—that would buy him some fifteen minutes, he estimated, until security decided to come see what was happening in the exhibition room. Then, quickly, he walked to the center of the room and lifted the glass dome around the Soviet dildo, and put it on the ground. He then took the gigantic Soviet dildo on his hands and noticed just how much heavier than the replica it was.

“I fucking hope this works… otherwise, I’m ravaging my ass for nothing!” he whispered to himself before lowering his pants and putting his hand in between his ass cheeks, finding his hole, and then touching the copy dildo that was already filling his guts and slowly pulling it out as he moaned as softly as possible.

Pulling the dildo out of his ass, Carlos Bunda was soon out of breath, and felt his ass was open and ravaged, even when properly lubricated. The stimulation of removing the copy of the dildo from his ass made his hard cock throb.

“Damn… damn, I can’t really give you attention right now!” he complained and slapped his 19cm-long manhood. Then, having pulled the copy of the Soviet dildo out of his ass, Carlo inspected it, making sure that it was clean to perfection, just like his hole. He smiled and placed it back where the Soviet dildo had been, and then he put the glass dome above it again. Then he braced himself and widened his legs and ass, while positioning the Soviet dildo perfectly against his relaxed asshole.

“Here it goes, Carlos. You can take it up your ass, you are a professional! It should be the exact same dimensions as the other one!” he told himself, before putting it on the ground and deciding to lower his ass on it as he squatted, so as to use gravity to his favor. He moaned and panted and grunted as the gigantic object penetrated and widened his ass. Although it was the same size as the copy, this one just felt different—not so much in how it rearranged his insides; no, in this it was the same, but in how warm it was, and in how it seemed to electrify his ass and then, when it touched his prostate, all of his body. He saw himself moaning loudly and then getting surprised by how much he was enjoying it—his cock was hard, bouncing up and down, and leaking profusely on the ground.

Afraid his moaning might have attracted unwanted attention; Carlos just pushed the rest of the dildo inside himself and contained further noises as he widened his ass and legs as much as possible. Once the dildo was firmly set in his tight hole, compressing his prostate and stretching everything else, he put his pants back up and simply walked out of the exhibition room pretending nothing had happened. As he walked away, he felt his ass was on fire and his muscles seemed to all be contracting and relaxing several times, but he didn’t know if this was the effect of Soviet technology working or just walking with a heavy 40-centimeter-long dildo filling his ass.

He tried to walk calmly as to not arise suspicion—and also not to arouse himself too much—but only two minutes later, before he had left the premises, an alarm explodes in the mansion and he started to run. That made the dildo jiggle and bob a lot inside him, making his cock throb and remain hard and wet as well. Carlos didn’t notice it at the time—as he was worried about getting away and all the rest of his brain capacity was focused on the gigantic object in his ass -, but his contracting guts had already activated the dildo’s capabilities and it was quickly adjusting to his body, and was soon to adjust his body to itself.

While Carlos Bunda ran from the building to the gardens outside, security guards and Messieurs Arregot and Monet both ran back to the exhibition hall, as fast as they could given their age. Despite not yet knowing what—if anything—had been taken, the guards were running around after Bunda, whose position they didn’t yet know for certain.

“Thank God, the Soviet dildo is still here and so is Apollo’s penis!” said a relaxed M. Arregot, who had been worried about the possibility of the old statue escaping him once more—more than anything he wanted to replay the old rituals with the stone dildo alongside his Spanish roommate Esteban.

Julien Monet, however, was a bit more wary. He did see the stone dildo was still there but, how could it be that nothing was missing? He knew from his past dealings with the soviets that the most valuable item in the room was, without a doubt, the dildo under the glass dome—however, it was still there? He went and looked at it attentively, and indeed it seemingly hadn’t moved a single centimeter. It was still gigantic, thick and beautiful like always. He looked down, however, and there seemed to be crystal clear cum droplets on the ground. He gasped and, worried, looked at the dildo again.

“M. Arregot. This question may sound weird, but do you ever put lube on your collection items?” he asked a little bit concerned. The French billionaire blushed a little and laughed awkwardly.

“Only when they have to be… cleaned… or studied,” he said and coughs a little. Julien Monet then looks at him dead serious.

“And you have never studied the Soviet dildo, have you?” he asks, frowning, although that should be obvious by looking at M. Arregot’s body. Also, it couldn’t be, otherwise the idiot would never trade it even if Monet had brought him all the cocks of ancient Greece.

“No…no. You said so yourself—it is a Soviet product, it might be toxic,” answered the billionaire, and the former communist then burst in anger.

“Then the dildo was stolen! Fuck! This one is gleaming with wetness! Merde! If you don’t recover it then say goodbye to Apollo’s cock! As for me, I’ve got to find whoever has it before its too late!” said the former politician before running away as fast as he could, and picking up his phone in the process to make some calls, leaving M. Monet behind in the middle of his own collection, confused.

“Of course, of course, before they get themselves poisoned, right?” he asked without truly understanding the other man’s guttural reaction. It was a loss, sure, but who cares if the thief would use the dildo a little or not before getting captured? Besides, the most valuable item was still here…Apollo’s cock.

Indeed, M. Monet, seeing himself alone in the room, went to the table and touched the gigantic stone cock again and, after looking around to make sure he was alone, he lowered his head and licked it, imagining he was licking the God’s true cock. It was cold, and yet so hot. Soon young, handsome Esteban came looking for him and saw the French billionaire trying to kiss and suck on the gigantic stone rod—he was surprised, but it took them no time to decide to lower the ancient sculpture on the ground to try and get M. Monet to take it, while Esteban relaxed him by sucking on the Frenchman’s penis.

Carlos was running as fast as he could but also trying to avoid other security guards and cameras, in order to get out of the estate as quickly and secretly as possible. He didn’t notice, however, that the dildo had been throbbing in his ass—or he pushed it out of his mind as that was supposed to be impossible. Neither did he realize his muscles were growing, expanding under his clothes, allowing him to run faster and more easily, without getting tired or breaking a sweat. Before he could get out, however, a few guards found him and aimed their guns at Bunda.

“Stop right there! Hand us the dildo, and nobody gets hurt!” screamed the first of them, and Bunda realized he was in trouble, as he couldn’t get his own gun without letting the guy know he was moving to get it. So, he simply raised his arms, but in doing so, the sleeves of his shirt ripped loudly, expanding his growing muscles.

“What the hell?” asked another confused French security person, noticing Bunda’s arms were getting thicker, as they seemed to throb, as he was also getting taller, and his ass and legs were similarly growing in muscle. He was, plainly put, expanding everywhere.

Meanwhile, Bunda’s heart was beating fast—he didn’t know what to do, he needed to find a way out before more guards got to him, before they got the dildo from him. He felt alerted and nervous, and his body responded to the rush of adrenaline by contracting around the dildo, which could measure his hormones and started a growth rush. Bunda screamed, all his muscles exploding at once. One of the guards reacted by yelling in fear and falling backwards as all of Bunda’s muscles throbbed, flexed, contracted and grew, bursting his clothes at once—his arms were now thicker than logs, his abs strong and hard, his pecs large like pillows, his legs like pillars; and, in between them, rose his gigantic cock as his balls contracted and hanged ever lower. He was quickly growing passing 2 and a half meters in height, in fact, approaching 3.

Carlos moaned as he grew, not fully understanding what was happening to his body. The other guard, scared and confused, shot him—the bullets hit his skin and muscles, but they just fell to the ground after hitting Bunda. His body was hot, steamy, and hard—indestructible. It was so hot, in reality, that the bullets melted when they actually touched Carlos’s smoldering skin.

“Fuck! I can hardly… control myself!” said Carlos, trying to overcome his instincts. His cock was hard and slapping his growing pecs wetly as it oozed pre due to his uncontrollable muscular throbbing. His balls were contracting and growing, which felt like a long orgasm, only accentuated by the engorging of his prostate which was pressured and compressed by the large dildo in his ass. He felt like he could do anything, but that what he should do was fucking something, even if he knew his priority should have been to leave the mansion.

The guard who had fallen to the floor ran away, but the other one who had now discharged his bullets at Carlos was frozen on the spot. Many other security guards were now running through the large field towards them, and behind came a mad M. Monet.

“Don’t let him go, kill him if needed! He has my dildo! Kill him!” screamed the French politician, salivating of anger. That did make Carlos come back to himself, turn around and see the men running towards him ready to shoot, and so he ran the other direction with his cock bobbing up and down. He grabbed the security guard who had frozen in place as a hostage, and continued running towards the wall. His cock was so strong now that he felt he could fuck a hole through the wall and, honestly, that was pretty much his plan.

“Fuck, just shoot them, I don’t care about that guard, we can send him to the hospital later! Don’t let the thief run away with my dildo!” yelled Julien Monet in the distance, behind them, as the security personnel seemed conflicted about the idea of shooting one of their own.

Bunda held his hostage on his gigantic muscular shoulders while running—his cock producing a characteristic wet slapping sound as it hit his gigantic pecs with each jump and long step. The man tried to resist him, but Carlos’s muscles overpowered him too easily as they ran, and his gigantic cockhead sometimes slapped his ass almost as if punishing him for his misbehavior.

“Let go of me you… you monster!” said the guard, afraid although with a big hardon which was rubbing on Carlos’s shoulder through his clothes. The Brazilian spy didn’t even react to him then, instead just choosing to run towards and then through a brick wall with his new super-muscular body, trying to leave his pursuers behind.

After running runs with his hostage for several minutes at a fast speed, Carlos Bunda gets to a forested area, and puts him down. The dildo being secured in his ass, he didn’t care that his weapons were left behind along the shreds of his clothes in the estate’s gardens, or that the man might still be armed.

“I will leave you here, you can go back by yourself,” explained the Brazilian spy with a deep voice, his cock so wet and oozing so much cum now, that it almost looked like a smelly slimy waterfall. The guard, meanwhile, was messy, confused and sweaty, but also incredibly horny after being carried so easily by the monster of a man in front of him—his fear and reluctance soon having morphed into lust and desire; a metamorphosis greatly assisted by the sight and smell of the gigantic cock ahead.

And so, conflicted but lustful, he stood up before Bunda left and touched his cock.

“How… how did you do this? How did you grow like this?” he asked, his own hardon so painfully obvious under his work clothes as it had been to Carlos when rubbing on his gigantic muscular shoulder.

“That’s a state secret, but you might well ask M. Monet. I am pretty sure he knows more about this than he lets out,” responds the Brazilian spy, and the guard moves his hand towards Bunda’s cockhead, and scoops a lot of the precum which it was spewing, before licking it himself. His whole body quivered and trembled in lust from the amazing flavor and delicious smell of Bunda’s cock and its pre.

“I… don’t really care…just take me with you. Fuck me… let me have your cock… please,” said the French guard, pleading, as he touched the two-meter-long gigantic rod with both hands, and started licking it wildly. Carlos bit his lips, feeling the touch and the tongue, but shook his head.

“It can’t be, I am sorry,” he said and turned around, but his gigantic rod slammed the guard on the face and made him collapse on the ground unintentionally, unawake. The guard was now dirty on Carlos’s juices, and unconscious in the middle of a deserted forest. Carlos sighed looking at the scene, and after thinking for a while he decided to take responsibility for his actions and pick the man up—this time he let him rest while laying on his cock instead of his shoulders. There he soon, and apparently unconsciously, started to suckle on the liquid that was flowing down onto him, and he finally hugged the human-sized cock as if it were a pillow as Carlos ran towards the point where he had left himself a car with which to run away.

Carlos got to the car where he also had left new clothes. He saw his small Citroën 2CV but then realized that neither would he fit inside the car, neither would he in his currently size be inconspicuous while driving it to Belgium. Bunda, then, decided to walk to a nearby lake, which he entered to clean himself and his hostage, who still laid unawake hugging his warm penis. His gigantic cock, however, was oozing so much pre that it was useless to get his muscles clean before he took care of that.

Realizing his predicament, Carlos sighed and held his hostage before putting him on the grass. His large sturdy hands then grabbed around his person-sized manhood, and he started to beat his own meat while outside, under the French afternoon sun, in front of a small idyllic lake in the middle of a small woodland. The smell on the air was that of lime, flowers, male sweat and precum.

Soon Bunda was close to exploding. His expanded muscles rubbed on one another while he stroked his cock passionately; his huge balls danced around slapping his powerful titanic legs; his cock loved being squeezed as it oozed lots of pre which was falling down to the lake like a small stream. He grunter and moaned from pleasure, loving to use his raw masculinity to please himself—but soon he noticed something else touch him: it was his small hostage, who was trying to climb back on top of his cock, while being under his warm oozing pre waterfall, drinking from it as much as possible.

“Lower it so I can touch it!” pleaded the man, trying to grab Carlos’s huge member. When Bunda did force his cock down, the man used both his arms to hug it and then his abs to raise his lower body as well until his whole frame was enveloping the person-sized member. With his arms and legs holding the gigantic rod, the guard crawled against the torrent of pre until he could nest his head against the slit from which he drank the warm liquid.

“Fuck!” said Carlos surprised at how much he liked this, but a little unhappy that having this smaller body holding his cock meant his hands couldn’t stroke his member anymore—until at last he held the man with his hands together with his cock, and then started using the security guard himself to stroke his cock, like a frottage of rod and man.

“Oh…oh my! So much… so big, oh!” said the security guard as he started being used to stroke the 2-meter-long rod up and down, forcing him to hug the member even more tightly with his arms and legs, but enjoying his experience of his whole body being squeezed by powerful hands against a monstrous male member oozing warm pre absolutely delicious. Soon, he came from it, and moaned loudly as he did—two cyclists on the other side of the lake then looked their way absolutely shocked, before abandoning their bikes and running back where they came from.

“Bête, une bête!” they cried as they ran scared.

As he used a whole man as a cocksleeve, Carlos Bunda’s cock throbbed violently and it oozed more and more sex juices, lubricating his delicious masturbation. Soon, his balls were swaying so much they slapped the security guard’s back strongly, and he was starting to get tired—and almost unable to continue holding Carlos’s gigantic cock. Realizing this, Carlos pulled his cock his way and engulfed his cockhead inside his mouth, licking his own slit wildly and drinking his own strong-tasting pre while compressing the guard tightly and upside down between his gigantic member and his huge muscles.

The guard moaned and his cock got hard again, as he slid down on the monumental erection, and as he felt the immense muscles on his back. He soon came again, his small orgasm overwhelmed by Bunda’s abundant production of pre. Carlos, meanwhile, only minded his sucking, kissing and licking of his own cock, until one of his hands moved to his large balls and started fondling them too. Soon he was about to cum, and he did so explosively—the first jet went into his mouth, but his balls delivered so much it was hard for him to swallow it, and so he let his cockhead pop out of his mouth. The other jets flew over to the lake and coated it in a white rainbow, until they hit the water like true cannonballs. After more than a minute of white glowing seed leaving his cock, Carlos had painted most of the surface of the lake white, and his cock still oozed cum down from his slit, which he took back in his mouth to suckle and drink from.

After suck an orgasm, one would expect Carlos to be tired, but the Soviet dildo made his body become even more energetic after that. In fact, and neither he or the guard noticed it, Bunda’s body had expanded and throbbed more while he jacked off and orgasmed—his height reached now incredible 5 meters, and his cock was about half as long. As he recovered his clarity of mind, Carlos pulled the guard from his cock and cleaned him on the lake water, before doing the same to himself, and then taking the dildo off his ass.

With his ass empty, Carlos’s muscles soon started to contract back, and his height, weight and cock returned almost to normal.

“Will you… just go like this?” asked the guard, and Carlos looked down at him.

“Yes. And you should go back to your boss unless you want to be accused of being my accomplice,” advised the spy, while squeezing his ass and arms, frowning as he noticed his muscles seemed to be stabilizing at a larger size than what they had been before. As he walked away and felt his soft cock slapping his legs just above his knees, he knew at least his cock had grown quite a bit.

Soon Bunda got to his car, changed his clothes and drove to a train station in Brussels. From there, he caught a normal commercial train which would take him to Frankfurt, from where he’d take a regular commercial flight back home—completely beyond suspicion. There, he caried the dildo with him under his jacket, as he dared not hide it inside his ass.

Bunda was in the train, almost alone in his car, unable to sleep as he looked the countryside pass by—field of wheat after field of wheat, German chemical plant after German chemical plant. By then he had already processed his past experience a little more and was well advanced in the process of realizing the true power of the Soviet dildo—if it fell on the wrong hands, it could destroy the world; with it, Brazil would no longer have to fear anyone, not even nuclear powers. The strength, the capabilities he had experienced while using the dildo—it was a truly amazing, boundless weapon. And he had barely scratched the surface of its powers!

A woman came down the car checking the tickets, and he did show his, leading her to move on pretty quickly. Soon, however, the train stopped mid-journey in an unconventional fashion, almost in the middle of a wheat field. The German conductor said something in the loudspeakers which Bunda did not understand, and so he decided to stand up and see what was going on.

“Apparently the train hit a car,” said one of the passengers, who Bunda saw looking out of the window a few seats from him. He looked outside too, and he saw a destroyed Citroen 2CV—wait… that was his car, the one he had abandoned in Brussels!

Immediately after noticing that, Bunda started speed walking to the back of the train, knowing trouble was coming his way. He passed one car after the other, but when he got to the third class, he saw a bulky man coming from the other way, basically preventing him from continuing.

“Oh, tovarish Bunda, we were looking for you!” said the man in a Russian accent. He was 197cm tall, muscular, and wore simple clothes. To a regular person appeared to have no weapons in him, but his training allowed Carlos to see he was carrying at least three.

“We, who?” asked the Brazilian, sweating cold as he felt the dildo under his jacked with his hand—how much he wished to have it in his ass right now.

“Us, tovarish,” said a deeper voice behind him, with a similar Russian accent to the first one, coming towards Bunda from behind him. “We came to get back something that belongs to us, 0069,” said the threatening muscular man behind him. This one wore a suit, as he seemed to have come from the first class.

“What is it that you want?” asked Carlos feigning innocence, and the man ahead of him laughed and also started to walk his way.

“You know what, you are feeling it right now under your jacket, tovarish. The dildo, that’s what we are after!” said the tall and muscular man, extending his hand forward. “Hand it to us and we’ll let you go back home alive, Bunda,” he finished. Carlos shakes his head and slides between two rows of seats.

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” he said, and then they heard a loud noise: someone used a laser tool to open the ceiling of the train and jump inside less than 5 meters away from Carlos—a third tall and muscular Russian hunk, wearing tracksuits.

“You may fool other people with those little tricks, but not us, right, brother?” said the third guy when he lands on the ground, and the one ahead responds with a smile.

“Indeed. You will hand it to us, tovarish, either peacefully or not!” threated the other one, and then all the three of them ran towards Carlos Bunda, who ducked in between the seats to buy a few precious seconds and maybe try to catch them by surprise. No matter his reaction though, if they were really who Bunda thought they were—the famous Russian assassins, the Three Bears—there was nothing he could do after being cornered like this—or rather, at least not in his current form.

As Carlos squatted and ducked between the seats, he lowered his pants and immediately took the gigantic dildo in his hands. He breathed in and, praying it would work again, moved the enormous rod towards his asshole, and then pushed it in while sitting down on it. Soon the men were onto him, but the dildo was also buried deep in his ass, stretching his rectum and slamming his prostate, and he moaned while raising his legs to kick the first of the brothers. The other two came and pulled him from of his hideout, but his muscles were already trembling and growing from the power of the dildo overstretching his ass.

“Pull it off his ass! If he starts growing, we are done for!” yells the brother that was kicked away, while one of them holds Bunda by the collar and the other one goes and squeezes his ass cheeks and moves to pull the dildo from inside him.

“Oh, no fucking way!” said Carlos, hitting the brother who held his collar as his muscles and cock grew. His sleeves and the legs of his pants ripped apart, and then he picked up the man who was trying to access his ass. “If you want to play with my ass, then you buy me dinner first,” he said and then pulls the brother up, lifting him, and throws him on top of the first brother who was trying to come their way.

The other people who were in the car were now running away, seeing as Carlos was growing to quasi-gigantic proportions and the Three Bears were pulling out knives and semi-automatic guns.

“Hand us the dildo or we’ll turn you into an oversized sieve!” said the second of the brothers, pointing a large weapon towards Carlos, whose muscles were expanding much more quickly now than in the first time. His cock too had already burst his clothes and was now close to the Russian threatening him.

Carlos laughed and thrust his hips forward, his gigantic hardening cock slammed the man with the weapon and made the semiautomatic gun fly away, while the man fell on the train seats, half his body drenched in warm pre.

“You’ll need something more powerful than that to stop me now!” said Bunda, and then he pushed forward as his body grew to make the train car become increasingly uncomfortably small to him. The first and third brothers attacked him with knives, but they simply couldn’t perforate Carlos’s hard skin, which was also hot enough to melt the blades as they hit him, while Carlos’s cock managed to slam them down and cover them in oozing pre. He then picked them up, put the three of them one above each shoulder and the third on top of his cock, and ran out of the train.

The train had stopped in a random field, but a crowd had already gathered to see the accident, and the police was soon to come, and so Bunda ran away from the train carrying the three Russians, who tried to resist by grabbing his growing and muscular arms, or trying to handle his gigantic throbbing cock, to no avail. Bunda simply laughed at their petite struggle against his growing titanic body.

“Concede or I’ll push my arm inside your slit!” threatened the third of the brothers who was hugging Carlos’s gigantic cock as he ran away from the train, the son of his balls slapping his legs dominating the scene. The Brazilian spy laughed at this vain threat.

“I’d barely feel it!” he said, as his cock throbbed with the idea, as well as oozed more precum which rained down from it creating a trail as he ran from the train tracks.

The man bit Carlos’s foreskin down, pulling it down and revealing more of his thick and red cockhead, proceeding to climb up the human-sized wobbling member as Carlos ran, so he would be able to push his hand inside the Brazilian spy’s slit. As the man’s whole hand was buried inside the wet sensitive slit, Carlos’s cock trembled in ectasis and so the man thought he had found a weak point to exploit.

“Surrender or I’ll push further,” he said. Carlos bit his lip, not out of pain, but pleasure. The two other brothers trying to stop him from running felt like they were hugging and worshipping his gigantic arms and muscular back, while the third brother’s penetration of his slit had made him almost moan. The brothers, however, mistook his barely contained pleasure for pain.

“Do… hmmm… as you wish!” teased Carlos, trying to sound stoic, in fact almost overtaken by bliss, but sounding almost terrified to the brothers’ wishful ears. The Russian then smiled, and climbed up the gigantic cock, basically now hugging Bunda’s glans, and pushed his arm down as much as he could, inside the gigantic slit.

Bunda trembled and emitted a loud noise; his cock throbbed and lifted the man confused and then slammed him on Carlos’s pecs. Now the slit was oozing more pre than ever before, and as they finally entered a forested area Carlos finally decided he could stop running and decide what to do next. The man continued pushing his arm in and out Carlos’s slit, but the only thing he accomplished was making the Brazilian spy quiver in pleasure, while still holding overwhelming power over the Three Bears.

When they arrived in a clearing in the forest, Carlos threw the three brothers on the grass, and then slapped them with his gigantic cock, one by one.

“How did you find out about me?” he said, and the brothers looked at one another.

“You may have the power of the dildo, but you still can’t break us!” said one of the brothers, the one who had been on Bundas’s the left shoulder. The other two brothers also looked fully resolved. Carlos shook his head.

“I probably can,” he said and walked a few steps back where he found a large sturdy tree. He hugged its trunk and then panted as he made and effort to lift it—finally managing to unroot the whole adult plant. Birds flew away scared, and Bunda simply swung the tree around as it it were a baseball bat.

The men gasped and trembled in fear at this demonstration of force, although their cocks throbbed seeing Carlos’s power and also his muscular ass contracting as he used his legs to lift all that weight. Carlos, however, just smiled, turned around, and then used his hands to grab the tree and throw it far away, as if it had been just a small stick.

One of the brothers, seeing Carlos’s muscles contract and relax almost like an Olympic athlete, came then and there, making his underwear wet; another one, seeing his titanic force, peed himself in fear; the third looked up defiantly, while still drenched in precum from having pushed his arms inside the spy’s enormous slit.

“That is nothing! Just because you are strong, it doesn’t mean you can bend us and extract information from us!” he challenged, and Carlos lifted an eyebrow when he noticed the man hadn’t yet realized how much power the Brazilian spy had over them; he even seemed not to have noticed that his brothers were already aware of it, and reacting accordingly. That was probably because the man, understandably, was more focused on Carlos’s amazing body than on his brothers’ reactions.

“That is not actually correct,” said Carlos, taking steps back closer to the brothers, grabbing that third one and undressing him, and then smirking when he noticed the hairy Russian had his 23cm cock fully erect and completely drenched in oozing Russian pre. He laughed. “I think my tongue is bigger than that,” said the Brazilian spy, then grabbing the Russian murderer with his powerful hand, and bringing him up towards his head. The Russian struggled, tried to kick and punch Carlos, and did indeed hit his penis several times, but this was more amusing than really threatening to the south American spy, who then started licking the Russian man’s large wet manhood, replacing precum with saliva with his large muscular tongue.

The Russian first tried to struggle, but soon he was moaning wildly, as his brothers watched.

“Answer to my question, or I might explore other places with my tongue!” threatened Carlos, but despite his struggling breathe, the Russian spy just spit on his face. “As you wish,” he completed slowly, and his tongue moved towards the Russian man’s ass.

Anticipating finding the dildo, the three Russians had thoroughly cleaned their assess and intestines, and, knowing that, Carlos’s large titan tongue licked and coated the man’s asshole with his warm Brazilian saliva. What they didn’t know then, is that the dildo had transformed Bunda’s saliva into a soothing liquid, which helped open and relax the Russian spy’s hole before Carlos penetrated it with his large, muscular and wet tongue.

As his long tongue penetrated the Russian hole, its owner twitched, grunted, panted, and moaned. Carlos used his tongue to taste the tight hole and also to expand its walls, to push deep inside it looking (or tasting) for the Russian prostate that was to be found somewhere back there. At this point in time, Carlos was almost 6m tall, and his tongue, having grown proportionally, was between 3 to 4 times a normal human tongue, except much stronger. As such, the Russian man moaned as he felt he was not being eaten, but fucked, by Bunda’s wet tongue.

“Oh…oh my God, your tongue is gigantic! Take… take it off my ass!” cried the Russian man, trying to struggle his way out of Carlos’s grasp but unable to do so. Due to Carlos’s soothing saliva, he could hardly even contract his ass to try to resist against the Brazilian tongue in his hole.

Soon, as the Brazilian spy fond the Russian prostate, he started licking it and then he saw the cock attached to the Russian whose ass he ate trembled. His balls quickly contracted, in a rush, and in less than thirty seconds he shot his seed on Carlos’s face. Carlos took his tongue out of the tired Russian’s ass, and then threw him on his brother’s bodies, as he licked the cum out of his face with his large muscular tongue.

“Do any of you need any further proof of my capabilities, or will you start talking?” he asked, then, and soon the Russians spilled the beans.

Carlos Bunda took the flight from Frankfurt to Rio as it had been set up in the beginning of the mission. The dildo came with him in his handbag, and he felt victorious. The only unforeseen consequence of his little mission was that now his height had grown to 198cm, and his cock to 31cm. He was also looking impressively muscular under his new German suit, although the heavy clothes didn’t reveal much.

Apparently, there was still much improvement to be done on the Soviet dildo. It was certainly a fearsome weapon, but not all growth subsided once you removed it from your ass. Carlos used it only those two times during his mission, but he was confident that training with it back home he’d be able to master its functionalities—and probably grow a little bit more, permanently. Besides, trying to reproduce its technology would certainly help advance Brazilian defense by decades, so it was a major gain for the nation as well.

When he got to Rio and met his boss at the ABIN building, agent Bunda was congratulated for his efforts. He reported on the information he collected about the Three Bears and how Russia now knew Brazil had the final prototype of the Soviet dildo—they would have to prepare themselves against foreign attacks to take the powerful tool from them. Soon, Bunda was informed he was to gain a promotion, and that he would be responsible for training a small team of agents on how to handle the dildo—the intelligence office wanted to “milk” some of the dildo’s side-effects before handing it to the army’s research unit.

His first task, therefore, was to select 11 other people in the agency to integrate his small team.

“Would you take a cock up your ass for your country?” was the first question he asked of the prospective members, which was usually met with an awkward silence. He would then lower his pants, and slap his own gigantic manhood on the table, before stroking it to its full 40cm, hard. He would then smirk. “One about this size, but a little bit less thick?” he asked—and if the person nodded, he’d accept them in the team.

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