It started, well, not innocently, but without any harm beyond a few bruised feelings.
I was in the locker room at the gym getting dressed and Sam “The Man” Wilson was walking by and he glanced over at my cock from his 6’4” tall vantage and laughed, like he was nervous. Not in my face, he tried to hide it, but he laughed.
I was completely normal. Sam was the freak in the locker room—he was not only tall and ripped and muscled (I hated his parents for his genetics but gave him credit for the muscles), he was also hung.
He was one of those men who probably didn’t get any if much larger when he got an erection, but it meant that in the locker room he was swinging a baseball bat of about 9 inches flaccid. What my friend Eric calls “a real gym dick”. That means a showoff guy who has a huge cock and is the biggest in the locker room, usually.
They do like to show off. Okay, I appreciate it. If only they weren’t so smug about it all. I was definitely on the small side of average.
Sam Wilson also had the complete package. His cock was not only long but was really thick. He also had a low hanging scrotum with a couple of huge balls in there. He always seemed to be around, and he wasn’t shy about showing his cock. Once he stood there and rubbed lotion on his arms totally naked and his cock was hanging there. It was big. Hard to ignore.
“Hey Frank!” Sam said to me after he stifled his laugh. He had mesmerising eyes. Blue green or gold, depending on the light. In the locker room lights, his eyes were green. He was the prototypical hot, blond Nordic guy.
“Hi Sam!” I replied, “What’s up?” And then I realised what I’d just said.
His eyes danced with laughter but he ignored the pun otherwise.
“Hope you have a date lined up for the dance,” Sam said.
“Oh, hey, sorry about that. Someone will show up for you! And I hope you like him!” Sam winked at me.
I was embarrassed and furious. So Sam knew I was gay?
I looked straight ahead not meeting his eyes and definitely not looking down at his package. Nope. Not going there with a straight boy. That’s asking for heartache or a punch in the face.
Of course, looking straight ahead meant I was looking at his chest—wide, thick, ripped with cords of steel—you know, the one in a million genetically blessed mutant man from whom all future humans should be descended.
“Uh, thanks,” I said.
“Yeah, oh, hey, I gotta hit the showers! See you in class!” Sam said it almost like a threat. What was he going to bully me now?
Did I mention Sam had the perfect nipples?
And then he turned with a flourish and his cock swung and slapped his thigh—whap!—as he walked away. I could see all of him reflected in the mirror.
So that was that. Sam seemed a bit put off, you know, or upset with me in the next week. He’d make some joke about me winning some surf competition, (yeah right!) or making the Dean’s list, or getting laid every night.
Well my friend John is a wizard, as I mentioned, and neither evil or chaotic, as far as I knew. I think he picked up his skill playing D&D. Only his spells had real world consequences!
“Frankie, you are so beat down!” John said. “Would you even try to smile?”
I tried, it hurt.
“So what’s the problem?” he asked me. I told him all about perfect Sam Wilson and the way he taunted me for things I wasn’t. So John gets this faraway look in his eyes like he’s reading an invisible book or something, and then he turns to me and grins. He has a great grin. White teeth, handsome blonde-brown hair you’d never expect him to be a wizard. “We’re going to show up Sam Wilson!” John declared. When he gets like this you can’t get him to back away from an idea. “I’m a gonna need your help!” he said an positioned me in the middle of his pentagram on the bedroom carpet. “Hmmmm….” He rummaged a bit, found a book, scribbled some notes in the margins I think and then he clapped his hands.
The room darkened, and red candles lit all by themselves about the room. “Cool effect, isn’t it? Although I think you can buy electric candles…. oh right!”
John was standing at his average 5’10” height looking down at my shorter than average 5’7” height. Damn those three inches make all the difference, right?
John read out his spell in short order, and clapped his hands. The room lit with daylight again.
“What’d you do to Sam?” I asked.
“I didn’t do anything to Sam! That would be unethical. I did something to you!”
“You’ll find out!” John laughed and glanced over at an old classic muscle bodybuilder poster on his wall. Yeah, he was gay too. But we just weren’t, you know.
And the next day was normal. Pretty normal. I went to school, Sam made a wisecrack, and I endured it until PE class and I was in the locker room. I was perfectly normal, nothing had changed. I still had my small package in my small baggy cotton spandex white boxer briefs and… well, that was that.
“Heya, Frankie! How’s it hanging, Mister Foot Long Dong?” Sam said as he walked by. Then he stopped. He walked back.
“What, are you stuffing your underwear?” I looked down. My underwear I suddenly realised and felt was jam packed full of cock and balls. Big cock and balls. My big cock. The spandex was stretched see thru it was so thin. Then he said, “Dude, you know you don’t have to do that.”
Then he looked again and blinked. He could see through the spandex that I wasn’t stuffing and he was looking at the skin of my cock through the sheer fabric. He retreated in embarrassment.
I wasn’t stuffing my crotch, I had no idea what I was looking at except some very overtaxed spandex threatening to give way.
I was undressing for the shower so I pulled down—with a lot of stretching—the briefs and stepped out of them.
My junk descended and hung in front of my thighs. I was hung with a fat as hell foot-long soft cock, and it looked a lot more like a grower than Sam’s. My balls were likewise enhanced. Do you think balls that are 4 inches in diameter are too big? Because that’s what I had hanging there.
I was in shock, I think. Or was this a dream? I knew it wasn’t. So I gawked.
Then I stumbled to the showers along with Sam and some other guys. I hid my junk behind a towel.
Sam was right there once I was rinsed down in the shower. He forgot whatever his wisecrack was gonna be because now he saw 5’7” tall me with a 12” cock!.
He blinked again.
“Holy heck, you had a growth spurt last month, Frankie!” Sam said, surprised.
“I guess I did,” was all I could say. What else could I say?
“Wow I mean, your cock is pretty big! I mean, …”
“Yeah I know it’s a surprise,” I said thinking fast. “But you know some of us guys are gifted.”
“If that’s gifted you must be rich!” Finally he left me alone.
I walked to the showers and proceeded to become acquainted with my new gift.
I loved running the soap suds over my new cock, and I have to say I was super horny and anything touching my balls or cock felt great. This was not like my old cock. My old cock—well, anyways, my new cock was gorgeous. I was cut, with a big knobby head and veins visible under the new skin of my new cock. I pulled up this fantastic meat—ooooh the sensations!!!—and looked to see my giant balls hanging. I looked up.
In the corner shower, Sam was staring, and then when he saw me looking he turned his back. I’d swear he had an almost full erection there. What was that about? He was almost as big at 11 inches when he was erect, when I was just hanging ten—make that twelve—soft inches.
I was so embarrassed I got out of there as quick as I could. What the heck was happening?
Sam’s locker was in line of sight of mine, so he could watch me stuff my giant genitals into my white spandex briefs. They made a wicked lump in my crotch. I found I could fit it if I started with the head of my cock, and then expanded it around my balls one at a time, and then pulled the whole thing up until my bulging briefs were fit to burst. My cock head was under and behind my balls. The huge pouch looked like a softball swinging between my thighs.
I then went to my next class. I had to sit in the chair at the desk, not even daring to look down. Joe Smith sitting in the next desk couldn’t keep his eyes off of me though, not from the first minute that I sat down rather gingerly and had to push my chair back a bit so I could fit behind the desk. What an excruciating hour!
When the bell rang I was the last to exit. But a few of the boys pointed and looked at me as I did.
It was hard to hide the swaying mass in my khaki slacks.
I rode my bike (you should see me in biker shorts!) all the way to John’s at Warp factor 10.
“John! John! John!” I raced into his room.
He was reading. He looked up. “How’d it work out with Sam?”
“Work out with Sam? Are you crazy? Look at me! What did you do?!” I pulled down my trousers and John blinked.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, right, I just made it so when you meet Sam, one thing about you can change into what he likes or wants. It’s an old spell, and has a good reputation.”
“What??? What? You made me … What?? Sam—So he could just walk up to me and think something and it would happen and this was it?”
“Yes! That way he will come to like you. And look, you got a huge gift there—more than you realise, and there’s nothing dark magic about it. Enjoy being the hung stud, for once. Sex gifted from a wish like that is better than any other kind. Brilliant, right?”
“Brilliant!” I shouted. “Brilliant!!!”
He didn’t seem to get my sarcasm. “Anything for you buddy—what are friends for?” John asked rhetorically and continued reading his book like nothing was wrong.
I left fuming. I stopped at the store to buy some spandex underwear for my new foot-long meat. The largest they had was only available in red. It looked okay, I guess, a bit show-offy, but who was gonna see, right?
Everyone saw when I was pantsed in the school hallway the next morning. There were a lot of gasps. Fortunately the bright red spandex was stretched tight around my junk so the underwear didn’t come down all the way when Tom pulled down my trousers. But it came down far enough everyone could see my thick root!
I pulled my jeans back up and they wouldn’t fit over my cock bulge so I had to unbuckle my belt and unbutton the jeans. And put it all back together, this time with an extra tight belt.
So everyone knew I was hung. So what? It was weird. Some of the girls were flirty, some of the guys were flirty, and some of the people were just fascinated by me, a freak of nature.
I didn’t jerk off. Oh, boy did I want to jerk off. But I knew it would be a slippery slope. Once I started with this when would it ever end? This was gonna be gone in the morning, right?
Or maybe after the second day, right? Or three days?
Oh shit I was stuck being huge.
That fourth morning I woke up and apart from having a giant 15 inch rod of morning wood in my jammies, everything was normal.
I was laying in bed, and I felt it. It was heavy, a beast with an insatiable appetite. It was hungry. I slowly stood up, my 5’7” body rising with a 15” sloppy floppy chubby weighing me down.
In the morning light, I was hung like a donkey. No other way to describe it. My balls were so heavy and sensitive I could feel them constantly moving about.
Reluctantly, I reached out and grabbed my new cock. I couldn’t reach around it. I gave it a stroke. Oh my God. My cock rose upwards, hardening into an 18 inch massive piece of steel. Not only that, My whole body felt like it was my cock. I was sensitive all over. I gave myself a long stroke. I grabbed the shaft with my left hand too. Plenty of room for the both hands. Wow.
I was oozing precum, and it slicked the skin under my palm and the sensation was so much my balls hoisted up and I shot. That was an orgasm to remember. They all are, now. But that was the first.
I gasped as I pumped out the semen and my load splatted all over my mirror. Thank you, that was a mess. I grabbed a few paper towels. Forget tissues. After the cleanup, my cock, now properly washed, was hanging clean and dry. I looked in the mirror. I got a tape measure. Flaccid, root to tip, 12”. I not only had the mythical foot long dong but I had one that size flaccid!!
My balls hung in a large ballsack low and wide, the left higher than the right. You know, it kinda looked like any other guy’s junk who was hung like a donkey!! I didn’t know what to do. I sat down. My cock flopped between my thighs.
No sense in posting pics online. My dating life was over. Everyone would think them fake. Ha, me, super hung, can’t show it because then people would think I was a liar online.
It looked hot though, I have to admit. That stray thought was enough to lengthen my cock to 15” again. I was never gonna get this into underwear today if I didn’t stop thinking about how big it is! That did it. Swelled up to 18”. Blew another load. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.
I knew John. I was going to have to ride this one through. Then I stopped. “Wait a minute,” I said aloud to my empty bedroom, “Sam wants or likes this giant cock on me?” For the first time I started to smile.
At least my meat now hung down one leg of my trousers and although it made a huge bulge, I knew I at least could walk around now. Everyone knew. Obviously.
Thank god for loose pajamas. I mean, at least I could move freely now in bed.
I dressed in loose jeans, cinched with a belt, and a muscle tee tank top with a dress shirt over it for class to stay warm in cold classrooms.
I rode my bike that day. It was obvious that John wasn’t going to be doing any more magic for me anytime soon. At least with the new underwear I could ride my bike.
I went out to face my day. Nothing happened. I peed in the toilet, not the urinal, so no one saw, no one noticed me, the runty guy with giant genitals.
At PE I was made to run. I’m a lousy runner, so I got a stitch in my side. It didn’t help that my package was so heavy and awkward. I needed better jockstraps. Just then, who laps me but Sam. “Don’t give up, tall guy!”
And the world changed. I wobbled. What was different? I looked down at the ground. I looked way down at the ground. Wow. I was definitely taller. Otherwise, still me. But Sam had already had his wish for me… oh no I thought, what if he gets a wish every time we meet?
He yelled other stuff at me as he ran by but apparently we’d met for the day on the track. I retreated to the locker room, sweaty, confused, scared. The other guys came in. They didn’t seem to recognise me. Probably thought I was a senior or something. I was bewildered by what was happening. People were so short.
Sam came bounding in and said, “Hey Frankie, you okay?”
I just nodded. I was looking down at Sam. He looked up at me and smiled.
“Man, Frankie, you are the man—you look about—geez, how tall are you now? I’m six-four, and you’re definitely taller.”
“I honestly don’t know. But how tall do you think I am?”
“Well I don’t know, you look like you’re about six foot six or seven—no, more like six foot eight!”
With each version I felt the world spin and I popped taller.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “that sounds about right.”
I turned to my locker, uncomfortable with his sudden interest in me.
“Of course you could be seven feet tall for all I know! I’m a lousy judge of height. Or even seven foot two!”
I turned around before he said anything else. I wanted to leave before he made me a giant and I crashed through the roof! Seven foot two inches tall! I was as tall as an NBA star!
So when we went and showered it was in silence. I was learning to duck my head under the shower faucet, and Sam watched from across the room. But he timed his shower to end with mine.
“You know,” he said as we were drying off and I was wiping my cock with my towel, “it’s a good thing you’re so tall with a monster cock like that… I mean, just so it fits in your pants. What is it, like 13 inches soft or something?”
And I felt my cock swell beneath the towel. “Don’t be silly,” I said.
“Ha ha,” he said, almost turning away, “I know you must hear about it all the time but I never saw a guy with like 14 inches soft before! How big is that monster hard? Don’t answer, don’t answer, sorry. Not my business.”
My cock swelled again, longer.
“Hey,” said Sam, grabbing my arm. “With your bone structure you would make a hell of a bodybuilder.”
Nothing changed as I cringed. Just height and cock for now, from the two “meetings” we’d had today.
I decided to skip school the next day.
But Sam showed up at my doorstep after school. I answered the door, stepping outside so didn’t have to hunch over to look at him past the top of the doorframe. I was surprised to see him at my home.
“Hey I think I owe you an apology for yesterday.,” he began. “I think I came on too strong in the locker room yesterday!”
“Oh, hey Sam, I don’t know what to say… don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, thanks, I just wanted to say that.”
“Yeah,” I said bluffly, “that’s just locker room talk! You were just having fun.”
“Hey, I hope you feel better.”
Sam turned and walked down the walkway. I decided to try something. If I could influence the way he thought about me…
“Oh, Sam, I measured! I’m 6’ 10” tall!” I yelled at him. I was suddenly shorter by 4 inches.
“Hey Frankie,” he said as a parting shot, “I don’t care how tall you are I’m just glad you got that 16-inch cock!”
There was a stretching and straining in my sweat pants. “No, Sam,” I said urgently, “I’m not even 12 inches soft!”
“12 inches, my ass! Mr. Modest! Definitely looks 14 inches! No—15 inches!!”
My straining crotch receded from a zipper busting 16 inches down to 15 inches, which barely could be contained in the Underarmour and board shorts.
Oh hell, I was stuck with this 15-inches-soft monster cock in my crotch—unless I could get him to say a smaller number.
I went inside. At least I fit under the doorway now.
Then I returned to class. I obviously couldn’t hide from Sam. After a good basketball game the next Friday, I was in the showers. The water was streaming down my body and running off my cock and balls. I looked and there was Sam staring at me.
“I can’t get over it—you gotta be, 15, maybe 16 or 17 inches long soft!”
Pop. Pop. Oh Shit.
“Ha that’s silly I’m not that long.”
“Must be because your dick is thick as a can of peaches makes your package look bigger!”
Was his parting shot. Juvenile. I looked down. Fuck my cock was growing thick as a shampoo bottle, pushing out of the stream of the shower spray, and then thick as a can of peaches!
At my locker, I pulled up my sweat pants. Holy crap I’d been like 3 inches wide in my cock, but now… at least 5 inches wide—six inches wide at the widest, since it flared a little in the middle. And now my cock was 17 inches long soft.
And I jerked off four times that afternoon, a new record.
The next day was agony with my knee length soft cock. In the locker room, there was Sam.
“Hi Frankie… can I call you Frank?”
“Just suits you better, you being such a big hairy guy since your growth spurt!”
“Sure, it’s fine,” I said, but he was looking me up and down. Didn’t say anything. We’d run again, which was easier for me npw with longer stronger legs and new heavy-duty jockstrap!
After he turned away I noticed I was now hairy chested. I was hairy on my legs and forearms. I had dark black curling hair on my abdomen leading up to my manly chest. I was sporting huge pubic hair—untrimmed, it stuck out 6” from my crotch, a black hairy forest. I had a five o’clock shadow on my face all stubble—but it was just after lunch!
Then there was the time he said, sneaking up behind me in the hallway at school, squeezing my tricep. “Hey, you got some muscle on you for such a tall basketball player sort of a guy.”
Pop. My upper arms grew from 16 inches to at least 18 inches circumference, filling my tee shirt sleeves.
“Ha, Sam don’t be a goof,” trying to fend off what I knew was coming. “I’m not that muscular!”
But he was hanging onto my tricep, staring in wonder, and said, “Damn, that’s gotta be, what, 20 inches, maybe 21 inch upper arms!” Pop. Now my upper arms were straining at the sleeves of my tee shirt.
“No,” I said.
“Hey Joe!” Sam called over one of his jock friends and made me pose a most muscular bicep flex. “Joe—that’s gotta be 21 inch arms, right?
Joe gazed in amazement at my giant biceps straining my t shirt to the limit. “No, Sam, bigger than that!!”
“No way!” I said firmly, through gritted teeth.
“No, really, Frankie your muscles are big—” said Joe.
“Yeah, that’s gotta be like 23, 24 inch upper arms—cold! “ said Sam. “You are a stud.” And as he walked away my sleeves ripped up to the top of my now impressive deltoids.
“You know that’s not a possible measurement!” I yelled after him.
Sam spun on his heels. “25 inches at least! No, more like 26 inches—I’m sure of it!”
My shirt split and ripped off of me.
Another day I don’t even remember what he said to start but he finished with, “I bet you can cum twenty times a day, supershooter.” It was something about my being good at basketball, being so tall now. Oh, and don’t blow one in the shower, or something, and I said I was saving up for later. Not my smartest remark.
Now I spent 2 hours a day jerking off so my beast behaved. In the shower because I got tired of cleaning up.
At least in the locker room shower I didn’t have to duck so very low to get under the sprayer as when I’d been 7’2” tall. I was of course forced to wear board shorts until I could get some longer pants—they have to be custom.
Especially as Sam, never able to stop razzing me, took to guessing my height again.
I was walking out of the gym when there he was. “Hey I still think you’re like 7 feet tall!” said Sam jokingly. Pop. Only then it wasn’t a joke… it was true.
He looked up at me with wonder… “Maybe you’re like 7 feet 4 inches tall! “
I looked down on Sam from 6 inches taller than moments before. You see why I wore shorts? I never knew how long my legs were gonna be.
So it’s going fine in the shower later in the week, when there’s Sam again. He’s standing a lot closer, a lot of the other guys are catching glances at my meat, but he’s staring.
“I think I was wrong the other day! Your package must look so huge in your trousers because you have those huge swinging balls!—What are they like 9 inches wide?”
I suddenly had a much heavier weight pulling down on my groin. My balls were way too big—immense!
“Hey, Sam, they’re only about 4 inches and you know it.”
“Nope, they gotta be at least 5 inches!” Pop. “No—6 inches. I’m sure of it.”
They shrank from 9 impossible inches down to 5 inches in diameter—a full inch thicker than this morning. Then more inches in thickness again. 6 inches thick each!
I groaned. I was gonna have a package that stuck out another two inches?
That was that week.
“Hey Sam! Do you wanna go to the dance?” Who said that? It was me. Before I knew it I blurted it out.
“What, seriously?” Sam walked back. “You’d go with me?”
“Well sure, even though you kept teasing me before I hit my growth spurt.”
He blushed slightly, but kept up his smirky expression. “I was only trying to get your attention Frankie! Like I said, I was crushing on you when we first met and you were just a short freshman!”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. Sam Wilson was into me—”me” me, not tall hung me, just me?
“Yeah,” Sam admitted, “Hey, so yes, I am totally going to the dance with Frank!” He was practically joyful.
He ran down the walkway. One more time he turned back.
“Hey, you know, we could be workout buddies, we’ll have you looking like a male model on a fitness magazine in no time!”
I was just inside the door, I felt a wave of energy, this must be today’s changeability. I looked in the hall mirror. I was now a fucking hot stud.
I ran into my room. I tore off my sweats and muscle tee—now stretched to the limit. I looked into the mirror naked. Tall, muscled, hung like a Tom of Finland illustration, and handsome enough to be a male model.
I ran over to John’s.
“Oh man, John, it’s the best thing ever. We’re going to the dance together! And look at me!!”
John looked me over, and said, “Well, I’m glad it worked out. And if you want it you can keep that body.” Well, I didn’t have to be told twice.
The night of the dance I showed up in my car, all washed and clean, wearing a tailored suit coat and slacks. I looked good. Sam came downstairs and he looked like a freaking dream come true!
The dance was wonderful, and later we were back in my private bedroom stripping off each other’s clothes. Finally we were naked and I realized this was how it all started. Sam kissed me. Then he said, “you are so beautiful. Your cock is enormous, you’re tall, and strong. So very strong. I love your muscles. They are so freaking huge!”
Good thing I was naked. My body exploded with huge muscle growth. It felt real good.
But I silently thanked John. I guessed I wasn’t going to mind being muscle sex on a stick. Whew. What a life.
John’s always about helping others. There was this boy named Mike Steeves, and he used to get teased in the locker room. He was a little blond guy with a tiny penis. I mean, someone has to have one, right?
Anyways, John’s attendance at school is irregular to say the least, because, you know, wizard. But he was there the day that Mike was harassed pretty badly by some of the jocks.
I don’t have to tell you what they said to him, you can imagine. Well, John told Mike the guys were stupid jocks and that Mike would grow up big and strong in a year or two…
“You don’t have to lie to me, John,” said Mike. “I appreciate your friendship but I’d rather you be honest. I know that I’m a little guy and that’s what I’m going to be. I just need to get through junior year of high school without running into those jocks.”
“Well,” said John, “You never know… but I understand. You know it doesn’t matter to me how big of a guy you are, right?”
“Yeah I know,” said Mike, and then as John walked away, “It matters to me!” under his breath. But John heard him.
So John gets it in his mind to help out Mike Steeves, and right after school goes home and casts a spell… or maybe more than one.
Anyways, I’m looking at Mike the next couple of days, and he pretty much looks the same, except his crotch is bulging out more than usual. In the showers, I see John’s magic at work. Mike Steeves, who had maybe a 4 inch dick, had at least a 6 inch dick. His balls were bigger too. I don’t even think that Mike realised then he’d grown, it’d only been a few days, and I was on the lookout for it because I knew about John.
Over the course of the next week, Mike’s cock and balls, his whole package, grows bigger every day until he looks just like one of the regular guys, you know, nothing special, but nothing to be teased about either.
I can tell Mike knows by now because he’s constantly rearranging his meat and pulling at his trouser crotch when he thinks no one is looking.
Well, the next time I see Mike in the locker rooms is almost another week later. I see him changing his clothes to put on his gym wear, and when he pulls down his underwear and puts on his jockstrap I got an eyeful. I mean, Mike was hanging like 7” soft. His balls were like large eggs… you know, substantial. He was very modest about it all. He still wore his towel to and from the showers, and wasn’t mean to anyone or show off or any of that.
“Damn, Mike, you look like you hit the jackpot!” I said to him.
“That cock of yours…! When did it get so big?”
“Oh, um… I noticed it about a week ago. I didn’t think it was supposed to grow that fast though.”
“I heard that it happens sometimes. Some guys grow really fast, all in a rush.”
“Well this is plenty,” Mike said seriously. “I hope it stops growing bigger. I can’t wear a lot of my clothes now without a bulge showing. And I don’t want people to think I’m showing off—not like that jock Jerry Peters.”
Jerry was one of the guys who teased Mike the most. He had a big cock and he liked to wear tight jeans. I’ve seen teachers just roll their eyes in disgust when he comes into class some mornings.
“Mike—no one is gonna think you are Jerry Peters. Your cock is bigger than his.”
That made him laugh, and he said, “You like me with a big cock, don’t you Stan?”
“Yes I do, but I liked you when you had a smaller package too!”
“I don’t think it should matter, how big a cock is. I mean, we are given what we are given.”
“Yeah, I see your point. But some men like guys with big cocks. It’s like a visual aid or something. You know, your cock is big, so you’re a more masculine man?”
“That’s stupid. And … I don’t know the word for men haters. But it’s dumb. Someone is gonna decide who to live their life with based on the size of their cock?”
“No of course not. Mike, that’s, like, not possible for you to get any bigger than you are now. You’re sixteen. And a half. You know, statistically only like one in ten thousand guys has an erect cock longer than nine inches.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But say hello to Mister Ten Thousand.”
I gaped. Mike was telling me his erect cock was bigger than nine inches? “Hey, it all evens out in the end, right?” I had no idea what I was saying.
“Right.” I wished. I thought my 7-inch cock was pretty awesome, but Mike was making me jealous. I reminded myself he’s a good friend and I should be happy for him.
“Where do you get this information?” he asked.
“Masters and Johnson.”
“What am I gonna do if it keeps growing?” He thought for a second. “I guess I’ll buy bigger underwear.”
But that next two weeks I noticed when I saw Mike at school his cock bulge in his trousers was bigger and bigger. Nothing ridiculous, or anything, but, there was something going on there more and more. He was getting looks, getting talked about. Hung Mike Steeves.
That week I ran into Mike in the locker room again, we were both heading to the showers. We stood aways apart as guys do in the showers, but I looked over and my jaw dropped. Mike Steeves was hanging 9” flaccid from his crotch. And, I mean, thick, too. Any porn star would cry over not being Mike right about then. Balls like ripe oranges. Two weeks ago he’d had a 7 inch cock hanging there, now… wow.
So I knew, or thought I knew, that John’s magic spell had done its work. I mean, maybe overdone its work. So I thought that was that. But I was wrong. The next week, again, I see Mike in the hallway and he’s definitely got a gay boy’s dream crotch bulging thing going on. I tell myself it’s just the slacks he was wearing that day.
But I saw him again later that day, I was just finishing up at the gym, and Mike was just drying off after his shower, and … Man, his cock was bigger again. I know what a ten-inch cock looks like and that’s what he had hanging from his groin. Also his scrotum was a huge sack and his balls were like grapefruits now.
Wow. I wanted to drool all over it. But I knew that wasn’t cool. Or was it? Or should I ask Mike on a date? Maybe that. Well, anyways, don’t think me too shallow, this was high school.
He laughed cause he saw me looking. “I guess John was right, I just needed to hit my growth spurt!”
“Well, Mike,” I said, “that is a big cock you have there! No doubt! Does it make any difference in your life?”
“Well, the jocks stopped calling me teenie weenie.”
“Yeah, I can see why they stopped.”
I guess I was staring because Mike looked at me and looked down and then looked up and said, “Do you like it? I mean, do you think it’s too much?”
“No, no, Mike,” I blurted out. “You look great! Any guy would be happy to have what you have swinging between your legs! And anyways no one has any choice over that, right? I mean, you had a smaller cock, and nows it’s… gulp….. gotten larger.”
“Gee thanks, Stan!” said Mike. “Hey do you want to go see a movie or something Friday night?”
“What would you like to see?”
“Anything you want to show me, I mean, see, anything you want to see. I haven’t caught anything that’s out now.”
Mike laughed. He thought I was teasing, in a good way, but it was an honest misspeak. I couldn’t get the image of his cock out of my head. I kept glancing down, and finally Mike was like, “Oh, hey, I forgot the time.” He threw down his towel, his cock and balls hanging right there three feet away from me, and I watched as politely as possible while he pulled on some boxer briefs and loaded the basket full up with his 10” cock and grapefruit sized balls. Then he pulled on his baggy khaki jeans, you know, but I could tell.
So it was about four nights later we went out to dumb space movie #27 and Mike was really flirty. If I’d had any suspicions about him being gay, I knew that night he was at least bi. So in the car later we’re making out and he reaches over and feels my chest and I do the same to him and then his hand goes lower and so does mine and his hand finds my rock hard 7-inch erection filling my jeans. My hand… my hand… I find his big fat cock, it’s semi hard but not all the way, you know, and I feel down his thigh… and the bulge just keeps on going. I mean, a lot. Like 12 inches long. And I realise that his cock is really, really thick, like thick like a coke bottle or something. So we make out a while and you know, we don’t, rip down our pants. I wanted to, but I wasn’t really ready to take advantage of Mike when all this was going on, and I say good night, and as he gets out of my car he leans in to say goodbye and I can see the huge mostly erect cock running down his leg inside his trousers.
So the next week, you know, I called Mike to say thanks and he said he really wanted to go out again. I was very flattered. And I wanted to go out with him too. The big cock was just a really nice bonus.
So I figured, that had to be it, right? And now that Mike and I were “dating” it was just more silly fun in the locker room. At the end of that next week, Mike had 12 inches hanging from his groin. Soft. Mike had the biggest cock of anyone I’d ever seen or heard of. He asked me not to tell people about it. He knew it would follow him everywhere if people knew.
Mike was cut. His balls were likewise massive, and he’d already figured out how to dangle his meat down his leg in underarmour briefs and mostly hide it from view when he wore his loose jeans or slacks. No big deal, except, of course, it was a big deal. To me. I guess I didn’t realise what a size queen I was. Would I date Mike if he wasn’t hung? Yes, I’m sure I would. Would I enjoy it as much, well…nope.
That next weekend my folks were out on an overnight hotel stay for work so Mike came over. And he brought his 12-inch cock with him. Except it wasn’t 12 inches. It was 13 inches. and his balls were becoming impossible to hide in his slacks no matter how they were arranged.
Well, we jerked off together. He stroked off my 7-inch and I stroked his 15-inch erect cock. When we came together it was hot, he was on top of me, and his giant load went all over my chest. Then he kissed me. Hot.
So we did a 69 thing after that, he was raring to go and his enthusiasm infected me too. I loved the feeling of his big cock head in my mouth. It was really firm but just a bit spongey, so I could tease his glans with my tongue. That was a great night.
So then we did that thing guys do where we get intense with each other, so we back away. So I didn’t talk to him for four days after that except one call to thank him for a great night.
Then we both call each other, and leave voicemails, and we both are asking each other out on a date, so we go out the next Friday night. Guess what? Mike’s parents have a “pool house” on their back property so… we ended up there.
We made out and all, and then there was something on his mind, and he said, “You know before I take out my cock that I got a big one. Well, I have to tell you it’s gotten bigger. It’s starting to worry me.”
Starting to worry him, with a 15-inch erect cock? Well, I say it doesn’t matter to me and that’s not why I go out with him or anything and so… we both slide down our trousers, and he’s freeballing, cause there’s not underwear big enough. Mike Steeves had 15 inches hanging from his crotch. “If it didn’t feel so good jerking off this giant meat I would worry about it more,” said Mike. I just stood there looking at him. He was humongous.
“So the jocks still bullying you?” I asked.
“Well, they like calling me shorty. They think it’s clever because I’m hung with a big cock but I’m only 5’6” tall.”
“That’s about their speed. I’m surprised they could even think that up.”
Mike laughed. He liked when I made him laugh. So I find out a few minutes later his erect cock is now 18 inches long. It’s… wonderful.
“I hope it stops growing bigger,” said Mike, “I don’t want to be a recluse or something.”
And it did stop growing bigger. Right about then, I was guessing. Because Mike Steeves calmed the eff down that week, and told me everything was okay. We made a date for the weekend. We were going for a hike.
So when I show up, He’s dressed but his jeans cuffs are a couple of inches too short. So I made sure he had on long socks and rubber bands on this calves to keep out any fleas or ticks.
“I wish you’d have worn some longer pants,” I said. I thought he wore something old in case it got scuffed on the trail.
“These are the longest pants I have,” Mike said. “I need to buy longer ones. I guess I’m having another growth spurt.”
I looked at him and sure enough he was not as short as I remembered, by a lot. Now, I’m 5’11” tall, so I guess I wouldn’t much notice. So we had our hike, our picnic, our makeout session in the woods, and spent most of the day. On the way back down I looked at Mike again. He was taller, for sure.
So then my sister comes to town and I can’t see Mike for a week at the holidays and then there’s a thing with Mike’s Mom and so it’s almost two weeks before I see him again.
Well, he showed up, and I only recognized him because he was looking for me, and spotted me and waved. He’d grown …!
“How tall are you now?” I asked Mike as we enjoyed an ice cream milk shake. “I’m 5’9” tall! Isn’t that great!?”
“Well, sure, if it makes you happy.”
“It makes me happy to reach things on higher shelves without the stepladder.”
So the next two weeks flew by and we spoke on the phone and when we met again I was prepared for him to be as tall as me. No big deal, right? Well, He was taller than me. He was 6’1” tall.
“Damn!” I teased him. “Now you’re as tall as a male model. You can do underwear advertisements.”
He groaned at the thought of even having to try to contain his massive cock in any regular underwear. But then he laughed. I could always make Mike laugh.
So it was interesting. Now that he was taller things were different, like, his tongue was longer when we kissed. Very hot. And he had long arms and legs, still a skinny guy, but with his blond hair he almost was a male model. But when we climbed in bed together we both made adjustments as to how we fit together and slept together. I never sleep as well as when I’m in Mike’s arms. That’s the truth of it.
So the next time I see Mike he’s shooting hoops at the basketball court. He’s got on long cut gym shorts and he’s pounding up and down the court. Wow. You could see his junk flying around in his crotch, in spite of his overtaxed jockstrap!
He really had speed and stamina. I tag in the game for a while and we’re on opposing teams, which is sexy as hell, and he doesn’t hold back and neither do I. Finally I’m exhausted but he’s ready to keep going. And he plays two more games back to back.
After that we showered and changed. I could see his giant cock big as ever, swinging there between his legs, and then I noticed how tall he really was. Afterwards I measured him on the scale. He was 6’5” tall. Even he was surprised.
And you can guess the next month. We kept dating, Mike was freaking out because he was getting so darned tall, and finally he told me he was afraid I wouldn’t date him if he were physically changed. I dated the hell out of him that night just to show him how much I wanted him.
Finally we’re having pizza one night, and he’s… tall. Filling the booth seat at the restaurant. Turns out he’s 6’10” tall.
“Wow, I hope you don’t get too much taller,” I said. “You’re gonna start hitting your head on door frames.”
“Too late,” said Mike around a mouthful of pepperoni and fake-rapped himself on the head with his knuckles.
“Besides,” he said when he finished the slice, “if I’m tall enough I can play big leagues. Make real money at basketball. I love the game.”
“Well, if that’s what you want, then I hope you grow to 7’3” tall!” I said.
And the next month, he was.
“So are they still calling you shorty?” I asked him one day.
“Not to my face… and only ironically. But they do refer to me as skinny, which irks me.”
“Hey, you just haven’t filled out yet.”
Well. About a week later I see my giant basketball-playing, hung like a mule boyfriend in the showers again. And you know, he’d put on maybe 20 pounds of muscle. It looked good on him, and I told him so.
“Yeah,” said Mike, “I hope I get to be a huge bodybuilder.”
“At your height?” I said doubtfully. “Wouldn’t that screw up your basketball chances?”
“Not necessarily,” said Mike easily.
It’s amazing how much a person can change, my beanpole boyfriend was packing on 20 pounds a week—of ripped muscle. Not that I was complaining.
No, when he hit 300 pounds at 7’3” tall with 25” biceps, I was not complaining. But shortly after that his changes stopped. John had really done a number on him. Wow.
Or had he done a number on me?
So one day at lunch I ask him about this, and he looks at me. He’s got these cute hazel eyes, you know? Sometimes they look green or gray, depending on the lighting. Well, he’s looking at me, which is a bit startling, because he is one of those guys who rarely makes eye contact. He’ll say whatever and then quick glance at you to see what you think.
Well, okay, you’re right. I had a crush on him. Although it was funny… I’d seen what he’d done around school, and all the guys with huge cocks and muscles and turning super hot, but he’d not changed a bit himself, you know? Maybe he couldn’t? Or maybe he didn’t want to.
He sure didn’t have to. I thought he was cute. He also had a high, tight, round bubble butt that looked very inviting. He was about 5’11”, I think, and I was about 5’8”, but he didn’t seem to mind me being shorter. He was kind of inscrutable. I mean, you could never tell what he was thinking, but he was mostly mellow. I only saw him sad or angry once or twice. It was like a rain cloud just covered his face for a second, you know, then he’d be okay.
Of course it didn’t seem likely the Wizard could be interested in me, Tristan Hardy. I mean, I was handsome enough in that all-American, boy-next-door way. We were both Caucasian so I wasn’t anything exotic to him, and I had dropped a couple of hints that sank like lead weights.
I’d hit the gym more now that it was my junior year. So that helped a bit. Not that John noticed.
Well, anyways, we’re just being friends chatting and I ask him why he’s coming to school, and he says he’s missing his friends and wants to meet new people too. I kinda folded inwards when he said that, about meeting new people. He probably was looking for someone to date, you know, but I had long ago resigned myself to being the friend. Not even the best friend. I don’t think I could have stood that you know, it hurt my heart enough just being around him. And I don’t mean because he was a wizard. I liked him before then just as much. But now—no way. So that’s that.
But I kinda cover it over and I say I hope he meets someone he likes, and that we’d all been missing him in class, and his eyes kinda flashed when I said that part, but you know, his eyes were like that anyway. It didn’t mean anything. He did say thank you and it was good to know and etc.
So then I majorly change the subject and start telling him the gossip, nothing mean, but I told him about the gym, and (ahem) the locker room, and some of the guys, and who was nice and who was mean and who was trying real hard and all that dating stuff too. We talked all the way through lunch.
So the next period was PE, that’s physical education, so I went to change and I put on my jockstrap and shorts and shirt and gym shoes and John was there right alongside me. He was hung decent, you know, but he’d always been that way. Which is funny, ‘cause I’d swear he was a bottom. But there’s nothing wrong with that either.
I was woefully on the small side of average, 5” erect, so nothing to write home about.
Well, I made some oblique comment about my new underwear my Mom had bought me. She was super cool about me being gay, and she’d bought some different colors of this nice, sorta lycra underwear. Well, the thing is, they were cut for big, hung guys. The waistband fit, but the pouch was cut so large it was like an empty paper bag. I mean, even when I was hard I couldn’t reach the bottom of these. I’d measured at home, and the lycra stretched out so far, I’d have to have like 9” soft to actually fill these up tight. Of course I was sensitive about it and I said something about the stupid cut of the pouch and it was cut for huge cocks not regular guys. Not that I needed a lot of support, you know.
But I guess John had something already percolating in his mind, because when I went out to the field he stayed behind in the locker room a few minutes. We had a fun game of volleyball, and although it’s more fun in sand at the beach it’s still okay on the black tarmac. I worked up a sweat, showered, peeked at John’s cute butt, and he saw me look of course but I laughed it off. He got that look in his eyes. Anyways we showered and toweled off and I got dressed in the bright red underwear that fit my waist but not my dick, and went back to class. And blah blah blah.
I noticed John stayed with me the whole day. I mean, he was in all my afternoon classes, but he just kept hanging around. So then it was after class and I headed to the gym. We had an amazing gym at the high school—it was from grant money but I think maybe John set it up. So I changed again. I mean, I started changing again. I didn’t want to wear my sweaty jockstrap so I just put on my shorts and shirt over those red underwear and who do you think shows up to work out? John. So he asks my help with the exercises.
Normally of course I help anyone who asks because you know, people need encouragement. I was happy to help John, even though I knew it would slow down my workout. But he was being friendly and it had been a while, you know? So we’re working out doing the basics, and he’s doing okay.
He’s got a strong body and could build a lot of muscle if he tried. Even normally, no magic or anything. So I’m spotting him on the bench press and he’s doing okay and he rests after a set and I’m standing there with my crotch over his face about a foot away, and he said, “Looks like you’re shorts are showing all your goods, Tristan!”
I looked down and yeah they were bunched up in front so I just pulled them down and then yanked down the red underwear from underneath, because they were tight and the loose fabric had obviously gotten folded and jammed into some corner. So that fixed that, the short did show my bulge and made it look bigger than it was, because it was that nylon and the shorts were cut high so it looked like my dick was hanging low. Lower than it was really, you know? Sorry about all the dick explanations. I did enjoy looking down on John who showed a large curved bulge as he lay on the bench. Well, you know I had a thing for him so I started to get turned on. I thought about maggots in ice cream and naked old ladies and that worked. Whew.
We did the whole workout and John was so happy. He was what you would call gleeful even. Well, he was playing a practical joke on me. I didn’t realise it—he’d thought I would have figured it out by then but I didn’t change out of my underwear. So I get ready to shower again and I strip down and I’ve got my towel around my waist walking to the showers, and something is weird. I mean, really weird. John is there practically chortling and I’m just thinking he’s amusing himself with some inner joke. But I was the joke—a practical joke. So my legs feel funny and my nuts and cock are kinda getting in the way while I’m walking, but I get there, and I turn on the shower, and I get under the spray, and I’m checking out John, who’s laughing at the next shower jet, and I soap myself down and I get to my crotch and I freak out. I was suddenly holding a double handful of cock, fat as all get out, I mean soda can thick, and I look, and I’m sure I’m gaping ‘cause I see I have huge balls hanging low, almost as low as my long cock. And I mean, I was soft. And it was that big. Fuck. There was only one explanation. I look at John and he’s laughing really hard and I try to be mad but I laugh and he says, “It looks good on you Tristan!”
“Yeah,” I said kinda sarcastically, more than I meant to, “all I need now is muscle and a makeover and I’ll actually be hot enough to ask you out on a date.”
Fuck. What did I just say? I looked at John, and he looked away, and I said, “Look, we’ll deal with it later.” I didn’t know what I meant by that but I wasn’t gonna stay and discuss it. I rinsed off as quick as I could and left with only checking John’s butt like twice.
So I went back to my locker and toweled off. My hair seemed super wet so I kept rubbing it with the towel and over my face and I don’t think I was crying at all.
So, no way I’m putting on the red underwear. I mean, that could get ridiculous. So I have a new pair of blue underwear, the same manufacture and cut (cheap knockoffs from China) and I pull those up my still damp legs. Uh… I had to stop and reach into the pouch and push the fat huge head of my dick down into the bottom of the pouch and then kinda pack my balls in so they didn’t pull the fabric away from the skin at the hem line, you know, but then I had a very, very full package. I saw what John had done. He’d magicked it so that my genitals would be so big they would completely pack these underwear. I admit it looked hot, but all I was thinking about was John’s face. When I said I wanted to ask him on a date. Fuck. What an idiot I am. So I get dressed in my street clothes and it’s unmistakable in the mirror. I had a big package and it showed. Even when I tried to adjust things and loosened my belt a notch so my trousers hung lower on my hips. Yeah, you could see everything plain as day. Fortunately I could just go straight home. So I look up.
And there I’m looking at myself in the mirror. But it’s not me, I mean, it is, but my face, it’s like more symmetrical and I have a freaking 5 o’clock beard shadow line and I’m just … way more handsome. Then I remember the towel, and having to rub and rub to get my hair dry. By the way, my hair was now this incredible California surfer dude golden brown-blond with highlights and it made me look like a movie star.
Why was John doing this to me? I didn’t do anything to him. I mean I was totally respectful and kept my distance. I mean I looked freaking exotically handsome with the brightest blue eyes with super long dark eyelashes. Women come up to me now in the supermarket and stick their fingers in my hair and say, “I wish I had hair like yours!” And then they’d see the eyelashes. And the same again. It’s okay now. I’m super polite.
So all that was going on, me now hung so big it was as embarrassingly big as it used to be embarrassingly small! And now I looked … well. I tore my eyes away from the mirror. I headed home.
I didn’t look up from the pavement almost the whole way unless I was at a stoplight. I was riding my bike, of course, and fortunately John hadn’t made it sprout wings or turn into a unicorn or anything. I could feel my package chafing against my slacks, but I ignored it. It just seemed to get tighter and tighter as I rode home, and I was a bit wobbly on the bike because I thought of John’s fixing my package. Yeah, I was gonna have to figure out how not to man-spread my legs … I’d have to put a newspaper or book or briefcase or folded jacket in my lap. That should work.
I’m almost home when I realise something’s up. I heard a ripping sound and it was from my waist area it seemed. I guessed maybe I’d torn my new underwear. But I felt a breeze and realised I’d torn my trousers underneath. I plowed on homeward and it seemed to take forever but I got there and I dumped my bike and ran inside and yelled, “Mom I’m home!” and ran upstairs before she could see me. I was all fucked up. My pants were… I was standing in the bedroom, I had one of those cheap full length mirrors—and my formerly loose pleated slacks were now wrapped around legs with thighs like a chicken farmer’s dream. And I saw my slacks were now easily 5 inches too short. And my ironically grungy heavy metal tee shirt that I wore super XL so it fit me like a gunny sack was now stretched almost to the point of bursting across my chest and I had already split the arm sleeves. I then noticed that I had about 5 inches of ripped hairy abs below the shirt and above the waistband of my tortured slacks.
My mom called up the stairs just then so I took a step and my shirt exploded off of me and my thighs split up the outside seams.
But I made it to the door, stuck my head out and yelled down, “What?”
“I put your new clothes up in the closet and in your dresser, Travis. I hope you like them.”
“Gee thanks, Mom. I’m sure they’re great!”
What the hell? Well, John was trying to make nice. See he’d magicked my towel and my red underwear and my blue underwear. Looks and package and muscles and size.
I closed the door, tore the tattered remains of my shirt off of me, and then managed to tear my way out of the slacks. And then I stood up and I think I kept going up. At least 4 inches. And my whole body was kinda top-heavy because I was built like Mr Olympia and my legs were like sequoia tree trunks and—wow, my ass was super-hot and round and muscled in the blue very very tightly stretched but holding it together barely briefs. I stretched because I felt all bunched up and when I did all my muscles swelled up like balloons. I mean it, once I was out of those clothes I almost doubled in size. I walked back to the mirror. There I was in the tightest briefs you could find on my now colossal beastly muscle body, and my socks were way overstretched by my much larger feet. My shoes were in tatters by the door. One size fits all? Nope. My hairy abdomen led up to my gigantic hairy pectorals and above that was my fantastically wide shoulders and huge deltoids and giant trapezius muscles. I was almost a giant. I was under 7 feet, so I guess I was 6’11”. No big deal, growing 15” taller on a bike ride home. I stretched my arms wide and my pecs grew bigger. I posed a double biceps and when I did my triceps and biceps just kept getting bigger and bigger and I suddenly realised I had better stop this posing. But It was already way too late. My arms, chest, back was gigantic. My legs were the legs of Titans.
Right about then my briefs split right off my body. That was a sight, all my junk tumbling down loose and free. I was gonna be popular.
I walked to my dresser before I got a hard on, and found new underwear with much larger sizes. And pouches. Haha. These were bright purple, but not too light, kinda dark but intense. They looked good on me.
I had socks from the men’s big and tall store and I found new shoes size 17 in boxes under my bed. That should make swimming easier, I thought, and looked at my huge long fingered hands that could easily palm a basketball. I had board shorts, that fit, and long slacks, that fit and were made of stretch material so they would fit better. Of course that just made it tighter on my muscles. Oh, yeah. I pulled on a muscle tee and then thought of my mom downstairs and put on a button down shirt over the muscle tee and then I was dressed. I looked in the mirror. I think my jaw, (which now was square and pronounced and manly) actually hit the floor. I looked amazing.
I heard three raps on the doorframe of my open bedroom door. I turned and there was John. “What the hell, John?” I said, because I had nothing else to say.
“See, I knew you wanted to go out with me,” he admitted. I gaped at him and he went on, “I realised it earlier this week. I sometimes can feel emotions when they are really strong, and so I figured out you thought I was out of your league. So I wanted to show you that you weren’t. I’d go out with you—the you you were this morning, if you want.”
“Uhh.. urp… blurp…” I said intelligently.
“So don’t think that I’m too good for you, or anyone is too good for you… no matter if you are taller or shorter or whatever. So… should I undo this?” he gestured to my body.
“Don’t you dare!” I said before I knew I was saying it.
“Oh, good,” said John, “because I am pretty much a bottom and … I’m also a bit of a size queen. So this will likely be more fun. If you’re okay with it.”
“I guess I can get used to it, you know, put up with it.”
John smiled at me, which was rare I realised suddenly. It was beautiful. “It’s gonna change your life.”
“You did that already.”
And then he was in my arms. He wasn’t just a bottom, it turns out he was a power bottom. But I was happy to make him happy… it all worked out.
I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. I admit it.
I was having normal teenage angst of not being the popular kid, the athletic kid, the handsome kid, or the sexy kid. It was so darned trivial in life but I just couldn’t shake the depression of feeling that my teenage life was going nowhere. I was 16 years old and I looked 13 years old. I was 5’6” tall and there wasn’t anything special about my brown hair and eyes or anything about me at all.
John somehow noticed I was hurting and invited me over to his house after school. I went because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you know? I knew he was trying to be helpful but I didn’t really consider him a friend. I didn’t think I really deserved one. Pathetic, right? But when people who have been your school classmates for 10 years don’t remember your name, it’s easy to think things like that.
John tried to cheer me up, made me a roast beef sandwich and some tomato soup and we went into his studio at the back of his house and had a late lunch or early dinner. Anyways, It was getting towards sunset.
Well, I guess John was worried about me after we talked. He had a way of getting you to say the truth about things, to be honest, you know? I never felt embarrassed speaking to John. So he started questioning me. About my grades, which were pretty good. About the way that I helped a few of the other kids with homework. About the work I did on the holidays for charity, you know, just soup kitchen stuff. I also help Mrs Smith the widow up the street with her garden and I did a lot of the cleaning and cooking for my younger brothers while my Mom was working. I guess I managed to get a lot done, you know, but I didn’t think it was anything special. John seemed to think otherwise. He wrote up a list of things I did for others, you know, charity stuff I wasn’t really paid for except with maybe a thank you or a glass of lemonade or something.
So there were eleven things on the list. He showed it to me. He asked me if it was all accurate. I had to admit that it was.
So then he said a word and I felt stoned, all of the sudden. He walked me into the middle of his pentagram. He was talking to me, you know, but I didn’t much hear what he was saying. He said he had to hurry a bit because the sunset, you know? I didn’t understand what that meant to him, but pretty quick he lit up his magic candles with a snap of his fingers. There was a darkness in the room. If I hadn’t been so stoned I would have been scared I think. But I stood there for a few minutes, sorta swaying a bit, and then i saw he was holding his book, it was a little leather book he put his spells into. I was always very careful to steer very clear of it.
Well, he read off something it short order, stumbled on a word or two, and he was staring out the window at the sunset. I guess he was racing to finish before the sunset, so it was a bit of a hurry. But I guess he got it done, because he extinguished the candles, the room got a bit lighter for a moment or two, and then darkened as the sun slipped below the horizon. In a few moments I felt a bit better.
So then John gave me a cup of coffee which helped clear my head, and he told me that for 11 days I would have opportunity and “ease of ability” whatever that meant. He told me that for eleven days, starting at sunrise, I would have the opportunity to change my life. I did ask him about the word he’d stumbled over, but it was something minor I thought. He used the latin for “adaptability” when he was supposed to use the word “opportunity”. But he said it wouldn’t make a difference. But it did. He meant to just cast a spell that made things a bit easier, sort of a good luck spell I guess, but he cast a spell that made me more adaptable. For eleven days. A day for each of the good deeds I’d done. It was something that John used to balance the force, he laughingly said.
So he sent me home, and I stumbled out the front door into the evening with my backpack and got on my bike and somehow rode it home.
The next morning I awoke with the sunrise and to tell you the truth I forgot all about the day before; it felt like a fragmented dream and certainly nothing like anything real. But it was real.
I was feeling good in the morning and I as usual had a morning hard-on, so I decided to masturbate for a few moments. I grabbed my cock in my hand and it felt good. Not any different, but good. So before I knew it I had jerked off for about two hours. I think I came like 8 times. I didn’t even realise how improbable that was, but I did cum 8 or maybe 9 times.
I felt good, and I was stroking and having fun. I didn’t really notice anything different, except for the number of orgasms I had.
So I finished up, and then I cleaned up an astonishing amount of cum, and I showered and changed my bedsheets and I went off to school. I thought it would be a normal day.
I went to my homeroom class, and I spoke to a few of my friends, that I didn’t even realise were my friends. I also saw Martin Jacobs there. He was a black kid that was pretty tall and buff for his age, I think he was only 15 years old, but he was well over 6 feet tall, about 6’4” tall or maybe 6’5” tall at the time. I admit I was attracted to him, you know, because of his ripped musculature and his height and the pretty big bulge in his jockstrap, which I’d seen on two occasions in the locker room. He played basketball and football. He was probably about 235 pounds of lean muscle. I would fantasize about him being 230 pounds of muscle and 5 pounds of cock!
Hah ha. Well, you know, I was pretty young and pretty horny as a teenager, there was no denying it. Maybe I was so down on myself because I’d had almost no sexual experience but a few mutual jerk offs and a few blow jobs exchanged with strangers.
So I said hello to Martin. I of course had to look up to him, as I was pretty short compared to him. And I think we had a good conversation, you know, I was flirting with him, and I thought it was going pretty well, but then he kinda let me down easy. He said, “Hey, I really appreciate your interest but I like tall guys, you know, I know I’m tall but I like guys even taller than me.”
Ooops. So that was that. I tried to save it with a joke, you know, I said, “And I know the tall guys you like are very gifted.”
“Gifted?” he asked, “Whatever do you mean by gifted?”
“Oh, you know, muscle. Big muscle men, and of course the old standby, I know you like very hung guys.” I said lightly.
“Oh and how do you know that?” asked Martin a bit bemusedly.
“Because, you know, Martin, you’re gay. And what gay teen doesn’t like big muscle and even bigger cock?”
“Hah hah,” he said. “Very funny.”
Then he leaned in close to me and said, “And so very true…!”
And then he winked at me and I felt a weird sort of feeling. I mean, it wasn’t anything much, but I felt off balance for a minute, I think.
I later learned to fear that feeling, over the next ten days. Because it meant I was adapting. I went on to gym class and I ran some track and even shot some hoops and did a lot of calisthenics and even some weight training.
I didn’t notice too much different, I guess, because I wasn’t looking for it. I mean, yes, my shirt was tight across my chest, and my pants were short and my socks were visible. I sort of had high waders I realised. I needed to buy some new pants, and maybe a few new shirts. No big deal, I thought, I have time. I was sure some of my other trousers were longer. But I was wrong. Not that it mattered the next morning.
I went home, ate dinner, fed my little brothers, and did my homework and read my assigned pages and it wasn’t too terrible. I mean, it was okay. So I got it all done and I got my brothers in bed about 8:30 p.m. and I was in bed by 9:00 p.m. I did, you know, jerk off for an hour. I admit I was edging from orgasm to orgasm, I think I came at least 12 times, once about every six minutes. Finally I got satisfied, and I was tired, and I closed my eyes and was asleep before you know it.
So the next morning I woke up. I felt really good, you know, and I stood up and had to catch my balance for a minute, like you do if you’re still half asleep. I padded into the bathroom leaning on the door frame and I fished my cock out of my underwear, and I peed into the toilet. Everything felt off. My balance, my perspective, my eyesight, the lights in the bathroom felt kinda bright. Well, I flushed the toilet, although I almost fell over as I lost balance again as I leaned way down to reach the flush handle.
I stumbled into the shower, waiting just long enough for the water to get hot, and I got in and the water was shooting down my back. It was aimed a bit lower, which is because i had an adjustable water pic shower handle, so I needed to adjust it. I turned around, grabbed the handle, which was lower than I remembered, and then I was spraying down my hair with hot water. I soaped up my hair, which definitely needed a cut, because my hair was suddenly way too long, and I soaped up my body, mostly with my eyes closed, because I didn’t want shampoo in my eyes, you know, so then I sprayed down my hair and face, and my shoulders, and I raised my arms to spray the soap out of my armpits, but I rapped my knuckles accidentally on the ceiling. Oww!! Well, it only hurt a second. I realised the tub must be mounted higher than I thought, because there was no way I would normally be able to even reach the ceiling normally.
Then I realised as I was looking down through the steam that I had a lot more hair on my chest than I thought I had. I thought it must be because it was wet and looked thicker that way. Then I saw that the lighting and the water made my pecs look really huge. Hah. Funny optical illusion. Well, I finished up my shower, turned off the water, and I grabbed a towel and started drying my hair vigorously. I then moved down my body, and mostly got my body dry, and I climbed out of the steamy shower, and the mirror on the wall was completely steamed up as was the mirror over the sink. I used my damp towel to wipe down the mirrors and then reached for my shaving razor and shaving cream. I looked into the mirror and everything looked off. I looked off. I suddenly realised I looked tall. No. I didn’t look tall. I was tall. And I wasn’t just a bit taller, I was super tall. I mean I was having a panic attack. My body was about 7’ tall. And I was really muscled. 20” biceps just for starters. And there was the… changes in my underwear. I was hung. Really hung. Not only long, you know, but thick, and not only long and thick but I was hanging about 12 or 13 inches and I looked like my cock was a grower… which meant it would likely be 24 or 28 inches erect. Which was impossible. but there it was. And then I was jerking off. For about an hour or so. I was late to school. Not terribly late, but I had to adjust my bike seat. And talk to my Mom and my brothers. They accepted my growth spurt, you know, I think John the Wizard took care of it, but they were still kinda freaked out.
I didn’t have any trousers that would fit, so I wore some really baggy board shorts that were a gift that I never wore. Now they were only mid-thigh instead of knee length, and they were painted on my quadriceps and my cock. Which was big. Didn’t help I now had a giant scrotum with a couple of billiard balls shoved in it. Well.
Then I remembered the whole thing with John the Wizard. And how he’d stumbled over that Latin word and said “adaptable”. I was adapting. But to what? And then I got it. It was Martin Jacobs. I waited impatiently for lunch and then I went to the cafeteria and found him. He looked at me, then past me, then his eyes wandered back to me. He blinked. He stared. I walked up to him with my now longer stride, and said hello.
“Unn, hello … Evan. Gosh I almost didn’t recognize you. I mean obviously I knew it was you but it seems like just yesterday you were shorter than me, not taller than me.”
“Hah yesterday? Well, time is a funny thing.”
“Yeah it sure is… Can I ask how tall you are today?”
“About 2 and a half feet when erect,” I said.
“Oh, gosh, no I’m sorry, I mean how tall you are not, how big your erection is…” he stammered. He stared at my crotch. He almost drooled.
I was having a pretty big effect on him. I mean, he liked me. No doubt. I guess I’d adapted to the things that turned him on. And it was sort of true. But Martin had some extreme desires, it turned out.
“I’m just about 7 feet tall,” I told him.
“Oh wow,” said Martin. “And you grew so fast too!”
“Yes I guess that’s true.”
“Wow… wouldn’t it be awesome if you weren’t done growing? If you were still growing? I mean, What if you were 7 feet 8 inches tall and muscled like an internet muscle morph? What if everything about you kept growing bigger?”
And that’s when I felt it. I felt off balance again, like something fell out from under me. Well… I have to say I didn’t quite connect the dots yet. But after we screwed around a bit in the cafeteria, I went off to the locker room to change for PE. Now I was pretty bashful with my new body, and so I walked into the back of the locker room where there was the empty assistant coach office I meant to just change there, you know, but I sat down for a minute on the sofa and darned if I just didn’t fall asleep. I woke up about an hour later. The class coming in from practice woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I felt a lot better. I stood up. and up. and up. and up. I was really really tall now. Taller than before my nap. I mean, my head was over the lockers, which meant I was easily at least 7 and a half feet tall.
I was shirtless, which was weird, because I’d had on my XXL gym sweatshirt you know, and I looked down and it was in tatters on the sofa. I’d outgrown it. I’d also outgrown my board shorts… by which I mean to say I was still wearing them. They were super tight, and my cock was longer than the lower hem of the board shorts by about six inches when I was soft. Which means I wouldn’t have coverage for my cock. First thing I did was go get a pair of really long 4XL basketball shorts from the student store.
I noticed they were tight. In fact, they felt tighter after I adjusted them on my waist and I was glad they reached down to past my knees… which meant that i wasn’t showing six inches of cock swinging free.
Which was reassuring. I looked into the gym mirrors over the sinks and I saw that I was a huge muscle monster. I mean, no longer were my biceps 20”. They were more like 28”. Which would have been freaky, but didn’t look too bad in proportion to my very long limbs and height.
I wasn’t able to find a shirt but I was able to get a 5XL stringer muscle tee. It was bright red. The shorts were at least navy blue. I thought they’d hide my cock and bull balls better because they were dark. I was wrong about that, to be honest.
But I was huge. I was just huge. And I looked in the mirror and saw my gigantic hairy pecs. They were sticking out about 8 inches from my sternum, and they were so wide my nipples, which were pointing straight down from the bottom of my pecs, were completely visible because I was so oversized compared to the 5XL stringer muscle tee. Fuck. I was just gigantic. Well, I do hope that Martin Jacobs would be happy. I didn’t even know why I was so interested in him. Maybe I was adapting to someone who was available and a potential good partner? I was sure going to find out.
Now if you read my previous stories you know John was a size queen as well as a wizard. Jake and he had messed around. Jake had nothing special, you know, about 5’4” white kid shy and nerdy. They kinda ended up friends.
That’s probably why it wasn’t such a good idea for Bob Roberts (I kid you not) to tease and bully Jake. Bob was a senior, with well-developed muscles and was about 6’2” tall. Already. I mean, he might even grow. He would have been better at sports if he tried half as hard as Jake did. The coach said so, and it made Bob angry so he decided to take it out on Jake. He pushed him and shoved him in the locker room showers, and pointed at his groin and said, “I sure hope you’re a grower, Jake, or you may not have anything down there at all! Ha ha.”
Also he made a point of thrusting his hips forward and his 6” gym dick softie swinging above his thighs made Jake look positively miniscule.
I told John about it, ‘cause I was pissed too. So John gets out his spell book and starts flipping pages. He finds what he’s looking for and says, I need something from them…I pulled the envelope from my back pocket and gave it to John. It was hair I’d plucked from Jake’s brush and Bob’s comb. Who uses that? anyways he laughed and plucked it from my fingers. His spell involved a lot of candles, some Latin, and he ate two cookies while he was casting it. Not sure that was anything to do with the spell. There was a big purple flash, which kinda spread out and vanished.
“Okay, Mr. Wizard, what did that do?”
“Just made it so every time Bob teases Jake about muscles, or cock, or height, or looks, they will improve for Jake.”
“John you know Bob is a relentless dickhead!”
“I’m counting on it!” And then he didn’t say anything more but he closed the spell book with a clap and that was all he was going to say.
“I’m going to enjoy this, John….” I said with a wicked grin on my face.
“I know I’m not the only size queen in school.”
“Why didn’t you—you know—when you and Jake were…?”
“It’s not a requirement, Tony. I Iike Jake for his own self. There’s a lot to like.”
Right then John looked at me. “Did you move?”
“I mean were you standing there when I cast the spell?”
“Yeah, I didn’t move I know you don’t like that.”
“You aren’t supposed to stand in the pentagram!”
“Uhh… so? Does that do anything?”
“Maybe… or nothing. Only time will tell.”
The very next day Bob was at Jake again. Bitch slapping him around.
“We’d have won that game if you weren’t so short and tiny and weak you dick-less ball-less wonder”
I felt something weird. I mean, it was like a quick surge of energy, then it was gone. Just then the coach came in and broke up the argument. Bob couldn’t resist a parting shot though. “You are the worst player on this team! You shrimpdick!”
Again I felt a surge, but it stopped right away. Naw, I thought. I’m imagining things. Whatever spell John had used was slower than his usual. I went home and went to sleep.
I woke up to a bigger hunk in my junk. I mean, my junk was bigger. I thought, “No one is gonna mistake me for a shrimpdick!” Then I stood up. I was a lot taller. I was also a lot stronger, thicker build, bigger muscles. Bob called Jake short, and tiny, and weak, and shrimpdick and ball-less wonder.
I looked in the mirror. I was definitely the Big Balled Wonder. I was tall. That was the opposite of short. I was big, the opposite of tiny, and strong, the opposite of weak, and horse hung, the opposite of shrimpdick, and had huge testicles, the opposite of ball less wonder. I turned looking in wonder at the mirror. I was now a Mule-Dicked guy. The opposite of a shrimp-dick. I measured and I was suddenly overnight 7” taller too—6’5” tall.
I wondered though was I caught up in the spell by accident? What was happening to Jake? And what of Naomi? Old joke, never mind. But I was curious to see Jake. Very. I texted him and made sure he was coming to school. “I wouldn’t miss it today!” He texted back, “But you’re not gonna believe it!”
So I knew that the same changes happened to Jake as to me. I was wrong. See when I got to the school I almost didn’t recognise Jake. He seemed to not recognize any changes in me, it was like I’d always been a big man! But he was improved too, but not as much as me. When we got to the locker room I realised that the magic was changing Jake so he got whatever was being replaced on me. So when I sprouted to 6’5” tall, Jake became my former height of 5’10” which he was so happy about. I mean that was still a huge height increase for a guy who’d been 5’4” on a good day! Also i saw in the locker room he now had a dick that was very similar in size to my former dick, about 3” soft and I was betting he was 7” hard, which was what I’d been before I was transformed to a Muledick!
So when Bob Roberts showed up he didn’t seem to notice anything different at all about anything. He was still a lot bigger than Jake, and I didn’t even much track on his radar. He wasn’t gonna pick on a truly big guy. So he zeroed in on Jake again and said, “I hope your flaccid little peen doesn’t get in the way today again! You have no freaking muscles and you’re still nowhere near as tall as I am! I’m still 4” taller than you shorty! Just stay out of my way on the field and I won’t tromp on you. Your micro genital girly no muscles body creeps me out! You’re a freak but you’re not a freak of nature that’s for sure! At least you know one thing for sure! No one will ever mistake you for Mr. Olympia!
He was making an oblique reference to a new “code word” which was slang for someone who was extraordinarily huge hung, “freak of nature” was someone who was freakishly large.
Well I was standing there and as he said all these insults to Jake, I kept getting little zaps and surges of electrical energy it felt like shooting all through my body. When he said Jake wasn’t a freak of nature I felt a zap in my genitals and then I just numb all over. I almost passed out but I recovered after a few minutes and made it to the field. It was really fun playing football with my strong new body, my longer legs and arms, my giant hands that could palm a ball.
Anyways I made it through the day but Jake headed home early and I didn’t even get to see him at lunch. I was trying not to think about Bob Roberts all day and I finally went to bed early.
I woke up at dawn, all scrunched up in bed. My head was jammed against the headboard and my feet were curled up against the footboard. I opened my eyes and climbed out of bed. I was naked. Something was very wrong. I could barely stand up. I was all out of balance, I felt completely weird. Well, I looked across the room to the mirror. I was so tall that I almost was as tall as the ceiling. I had to duck under the doorway to the bathroom to take a leak. And when I grabbed my leg by accident I had to force my eyes wide open and awake and I realised I hadn’t missed. I wasn’t grabbing my right thigh with my right hand. I was in fact grabbing my huge fucking cock with my right hand. It was so big I thought I’d grabbed my leg!!
That’s when I freaked out, seeing myself with a monstrosity of a cock and balls sticking out from my groin like a waterfall of flesh. Then my eyes focussed and I looked. I was super handsome. And I was super tall. And I was super gross big muscled like some impossible Mr. Olympia wet dream. Mr. Olympia. Of course. I looked like a gay man’s dream of an exaggerated muscle Mr. Olympia bodybuilder.
As my full senses awoke I realised I felt powerful, incredible densely muscled, hard as I could even imagine, and my muscles were giant slabs and swathes of veiny flesh with ripped musculature under thin tight skin and you could see all of my muscles fibres bunching whenever I moved, the muscles would flex and pop and bulge hugely under my skin. It was incredible. And I realised I was turned on. Super horny. I was a freak of nature all right. I shot about 3 cups of cum over 8 orgasms before I felt a bit sated. I wiped it up, using two huge bath towels and I started them in the washer with an extra helping of detergent and set for an extra rinse. I was a sex monster. Anything sexy at all sent my cock swelling towards orgasm. Only my personality which was still shy although driven now by violently powerful sexual urges kept me from having a 100% boner constantly. As I dressed and walked to school I found my cock would barely become flaccid before some stray thought made it swell into an extremely huge not even firmly erect flopping monster dong chubby. Where did I keep all the blood to even fill this monster?
And now as I moved at all, my giant testicles rolled in my overly huge scrotum and would sway and swing whenever I moved about. I must have really dense balls because they were huge, alright, but felt even heavier than they looked when I cupped them in my now giant, long fingered hands. I was hung with a giant salami and two pendulums.
The only thing I will say I felt thankful for was that the magic changed up my wardrobe. I didn’t realise guys with my “new gifts” the world even had ultra-strong super reinforced jockstraps available. Go figure. I wondered how many giant hung studs like me were out there? and there I went swelling to another giant chubby. Fuck!
After fooling with my dressing drawers and seeing what was now in them, I figured that I needed to wear a super strong jockstrap to pull everything together, and then a pair of underarmour super strong underwear thigh length (and I had really long and hugely muscled thighs), just to hold everything up against my right leg so it stopped swinging like an asteroid shooting around the sun.
Then I felt like I could exercise or run or play sports without bruising myself when my junk slapped into me accidentally. I wondered how many of the Lakers had this sorta issue to deal with? And dammit there I go with another hard on. Fuck me. Please. I would fuck anyone or anything with how fucking horny I was feeling.
Then I realized—what more would that idiot Bob Roberts have today to say to insult Jake? I went over to see him even before school early in the morning. I woke him up and he seemed to recognise me. He took me back to the pool house so we could talk and then he kissed me. That was all it took to get my junk swelling to 100% which now was like 1000% compared to even yesterday. Turns out Bob was a power bottom. Don’t even know how he took it all. I fucked him and we sucked each other and he fucked me and I fucked him again and then we jerked off together and I was sitting up on top of him, astraddle him jerking my giant meat with my ginormous balls swinging and slapping when suddenly my cock swelled hard as steel, inches longer, and my testicles were pulled up to the base of my steel hard 9” circumference cock, and I shot.
I came and came and came, like 4 times more than any time that morning when I woke. I felt it pumping out of my balls and prostate and up my urethra inside my hot meat and spurting out, long creamy hot streaks of white cum, splashing across his abs, then his pecs, then his face and hair, then I swung side the side splashing over his shoulders and his arms. I could feel my urethra stretching with each giant pulse of my continuous load of cum! Then I scooted back and continued to shoot as I saw his own 10” dick shooting spurts of cum, tiny compared to mine, but still amazing by any normal standards. That was so hot to me in my new super sexed mindset, that I felt an insanely hot flash and my balls, heavy as they were, pulled up even tighter up under my steel hard shaft and then I experience a sort of super orgasm, like a machine gun sort of rhythm, my cock swinging on my groin, suspended by strong new ligaments, and I shot again on his abs, then leaned forward to point down at his cock, and his cock was completely painted with my white hot cum, all over his pubes, his nuts, all around his groin and upper thighs. He was gasping and screaming and crying out. I discovered that anyone having sex with me, my energy drove them to extreme sexual gratifications and experiences. They never had sex like they had with me, the both of us, or three or four or ten of us, all would experience hugely intense sexual satisfaction. Also if I had sex with someone for an extended period, it would change their body, they would end up taller, more muscular, more hairy, more handsome, more hung, bigger balls, shooting huge loads, with intense pleasure, and able to cum multiple multiple times per day.
We cleaned off in the shower, and I sprayed down the sheets holding them up to the shower nozzle, rinsing our combined loads down the floor drain. In the shower of course we had more sex. He couldn’t resist me. I was okay with that. I was irresistible, even to myself I think.
I scooted down a bit, my muscle butt sticking out, and Bob penetrated me. He fucked me as hard as he could. I was feeling an intense pleasure and I could feel my muscles inside massaging his cock. He was completely fucking into me, and my cock remained hard, which was not what I used to be like when someone was fucking me. But I kept my erection and I swayed slamming into his balls as he went as deep as he could. We came to this odd sort of climax, and I shot, splattering so high up the tile wall it splattered my face, and I felt him shuddering and shaking and shooting into me and then darned if his cock didn’t swell thicker and longer. He wasn’t near as big as giant me, but still, he was more than big enough for any normal man. I felt his now bigger and still swelling cock pressing against my prostate giving me waves of pleasure, and his strokes became longer as his cock was longer and longer. I could even feel his balls slapping my legs heavier and bigger and lower. He was grunting with insane concentrated sexual intensity, non verbal, and I felt his pectorals against my lats becoming hairier, scratchier, his nipples poking my back harder as they had obviously swollen and grown harder as well. I liked the thought of his stronger body so much again I came up the tile wall, splattering my face with more cum. I heard him grunt again as the power of my orgasm spurred his muscles to swell bigger and he ever grew taller. But even more insane than that was this sudden rapid swelling of his cock, thicker and thicker, hard as steel, and I felt my sphincter pushed to a newly grown size to accommodate this club-like cock Bob was sporting.
Fuck. Well, we were late for school. Apparently this was normal.
As we slid into our desks, which barely fit Bob, and I was ridiculous behind mine, I saw Jake. He was as big as I was—yesterday. Not today, but yesterday. My height, size, muscle, and genitals had obviously been transferred to him by John’s crazy spell. Bob still didn’t like him much, but he didn’t seem to hate him like before.
I waved at Jake, who waved back, half-heartedly, because Bob was scowling.
“You must be the nicest guy at this school,” Bob whispered to me, “to still be nice to that pencil dick micropenis friend of yours!”
“His name is Jake!” I whispered back, “and I wish you’d stop ragging on him! What did he ever do to you?”
“Nothing,” said Bob, “I’m just jealous. Because every minute you spend with that weak little girly man tiny cocked micro-balled wonder is a minute we can’t spend fucking.”
And he said it loud, Jake and everyone could hear, and with every syllable I felt like I was getting tasered all over my body. Then I was just numb for the next hour.
FML. What was tomorrow going to bring now?
At least I knew what it was going to bring for Jake!
But what happened is this. There was this big guy, Tristan Hardy, who’d obviously been beaten with the tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous, muscled and hung stick to within an inch of his life.
He was cool. He had a boyfriend named John, and I was told John was a wizard. I thought they meant he was a good computer programmer or good at math or something like that. I didn’t even know then that magic was real, well, it is, it’s just really rare, you know.
So I just reacted instinctively. I didn’t even think, so I don’t know why I deserved anything special, you know. I was walking along, and Tristan was ahead of me, and there was some drunk idiot racing in his car, and I looked and saw that he wasn’t even looking at the road. He was looking down, like he was drunk driving and texting. What a moron, was all I had time to think when I realised he was bearing down on Tristan, and Tristan was oblivious, he’d looked before he entered the crosswalk but he didn’t notice the guy not slowing down. I mean, who doesn’t slow down approaching a crosswalk with students on the sidewalk? Someone who’s drunk driving and texting.
In less than a second I realised that this car, it was one of those old muscle cars restored from the 60’s, you know, was gonna run Tristan down. I knew that if I yelled Tristan wouldn’t be able to react in time. I was standing there, about to watch this *ahem* super hot guy get flattened all over the pavement, and I didn’t even think. One second, I was watching this about to happen, and the next instant, I was tackling Tristan with a full body slam. He was a lot bigger than me but he was walking away from me and I hit him low and hard from behind and he went flying. My last thought was, “now we’re both gonna die,” and then the car was zooming past, and Tristan was trying to pick himself up off the pavement, and I was counting all my toes because I still can’t believe the car missed me, I mean, when I hit the pavement, I was still in the path of the car and instinctively I flipped up my feet because I knew my legs were gonna get run over. And all I felt was a thump as the fender hit the toe of my running shoe on my right foot and it was really just a graze, but scary as hell, and then I was being picked up by Tristan—that guy was bigger than the football players, you know, so he literally picked me up, my whole body, and I the first thing I said was, “Are you okay?” to Tristan.
Well he enveloped me in a giant bear hug, and I heard him say, really low, “Thanks to you I am.”
And then the whole school was there and so was John, the wizard. He just said thank you to me, like he was dazed, because he’d seen it happen but it was all so fast he was too far away to react or do anything other than see Tristan and I just about killed. He kept crying, you know. I pretended not to notice.
Well, Tristan and I had to get interviewed by the security cops, and then the police, and then finally we were checked out by a paramedic, even though it was obvious that we were both okay.
So then Tristan and John wanted to take me to dinner or something and I could tell they were both really shaken and probably wanted to be alone together, and I said sure but put them off to some future date and said they should be together right now. And then they were both tearing up and I still pretended I didn’t see their tears and I said I was glad that Tristan was okay and then I went home.
The next morning, I had a package delivered. It was a new pair of running shoes. There was a note from John saying he wished he could do more.
I hadn’t even noticed much but my old shoes, they were ruined, the fender of that car really tore up the toe on my right shoe. So I thought that was a very nice thing, that they were concerned about something so trivial about me, when they were obviously more concerned about each other.
Yeah, being gay can give you some self-esteem issues. As if being a sophomore in high school isn’t bad enough on a guy’s ego.
Fortunately, they didn’t make a big deal of it after that. I mean, they were obviously appreciative, and I think I said one of my self-disparaging remarks like, “Well, at least I did one good thing,” or something like that.
People were a lot nicer to me at school, you know, Tristan and especially John had a lot of friends, and they insisted I sit with them at lunch, and I always made sure to include one of the sorta outsider kids too, with me at their table you know, so everyone got to know each other a little bit better. Every once in a long while, I’d notice John looking at me and then doing that thousand-yard stare thing. That guy had a very complicated internal life, I figured. And eventually I did go to dinner with Tristan and John, at the local Olive Garden, which was nice enough, they wanted to go someplace really expensive but I knew they were gonna pay for my dinner, so I insisted my favourite was the Olive Garden. Honestly, by that time I just wished the whole thing would just go away, and for the most part it sorta had. I couldn’t tell if people were being nice to me because of me, or because of what I did, or because John was being nice to me. Tristan, he was really sweet but obviously stuck on his boyfriend and I was happy they had each other. No way I was ever gonna try and break up a happy gay couple. You know how hard that is even today, to have that? I didn’t want that on my conscience.
So the last thing John said to me, when Tristan was in the rest room that night, I don’t remember what I’d said, but he said, “It’s hard to improve on perfection.” I thought he was talking about Tristan, but he was staring at me, and I realised he was talking about me, and I said, “I am so far from perfect.” And then John said, “But you were the perfect person to save Tristan’s life at the exact second we needed you.”
And then Tristan was back and telling some story about one of the locker room studs.
I don’t remember what else we talked about, they were both really cool, and by the end of the evening they even managed to make me feel like they liked me, not that they liked me because they felt obligated. And after that we sorta stopped talking about the near accident. But sometimes we’d go see a movie, as a group, you know, or get lunch, or we’d head to swimming pool on a hot day. We were just occasional, friendly acquaintances.
So one day, out of the blue, John kinda bursts out in exasperation, “I can’t figure you out, Peter Fagan!”
I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said, “Yeah, me neither,” because I knew it would make him laugh.
“Isn’t there anything that you want in life?” John asked. “Anything at all?”
He was always asking me this. You know, worse than the uncle at the holidays who asks what you want to be when you grow up. I knew he was feeling like he owed me something but I knew that wasn’t how the world worked, you know. Some things you do because it’s just what you do. There’s no price on something like what John was trying to pay me for, and he knew it. It made him a bit crazy and I kinda enjoyed teasing him a bit, but this one time I was looking at some hot guy, which was my favourite past time, and I think I said, I don’t remember but I think I said, “I wouldn’t mind being better.”
John followed my gaze and then maybe he got the idea because he said, “Any guy would be an idiot not to want to date you.”
“Yes,” I replied as I got up to throw away the trash from my lunch, “I know it, you know it, but no one else sees it because all my best qualities are hidden inside where no one can appreciate them. Besides, we’re all programmed to want… well, a hot guy, a handsome guy, a tall guy, or a hung guy, a muscle guy, or whatever. Our inner qualities, our friends see it, you know, but life isn’t really fair that way so people are attracted to beauty. It’s just human nature.”
I just left him thinking there. I know what you’re thinking. Why hadn’t he cast a spell and turned me into a stud? Well, I found out a lot later that he didn’t want to “ruin me” or “change me” or do anything for me or to me or about me until he was sure he wouldn’t screw it up. It was just so important to him, but I didn’t see it. I didn’t see my own value to my friends. I think that was the only time I ever showed that I was lonely. Alone, being alone, I can handle. Being lonely is the thing that sucks. So John finally cast his spell on me, not too long after that.
It was subtle, at first. My hair improved. It was fuller and looked better after a shampoo and didn’t seem to need conditioner anymore. It used to be kinda thin but then it was luxurious. So that was a thing, and people would say, “I like your hair like that, you should do your hair like that all the time.” I had no idea what they were talking about. Yes, it was a nice full head of hair, chestnut brown with sun streaked highlights from sun and wind and the pool.
About a week after that someone complimented me on my eyelashes. How long and beautiful they were and how they set off my hazel eyes or whatever. Now I never got compliments, beyond, nice shirt, or something like that. But I did notice I had thicker, fuller eyelashes. “Just like a Greek statue,” Suzie said at lunch that week, which was dumb because statues do not have eyelashes.
I made out with Frank Morris at the school dance, behind the bleachers. You know it was weird, he kissed me and his hands were in my hair, which always was pretty thick and long, even when I got it cut it didn’t “stick” you know, but he kissed me and ran his hands through my hair and said, “Your hair feels incredible. It’s so soft. It smells terrific.” So now I thought I was in a shampoo commercial but he was being sincere. Frank was a handsome guy, a lot taller than I was, a year older, and really just nice. I started to get feelings for him, but I didn’t even admit it to myself. My heart did skip a beat when he entered the room though. If I’m being honest. A few weeks went by and my skin finally cleared from teen acne. I sure hoped that was finally done with. My complexion improved, and I started having to shave every day or I’d have this sorta male model five o’clock beard shadow thing. Frank saw me one day on the weekend when I didn’t shave and he sorta flipped for the look. He said a bit of scruff on my face made me look super handsome. And I was better looking as I finally matured, you know. My ears didn’t stick out so much, my skin was clear, and I did have that mature beard shadow thing if I wanted.
So I was going through puberty, and things were slowly improving. Finally. John and Tristan didn’t say a word. So I thought, you know, that it wasn’t really anything. What I didn’t kinda realise right away was I was now a really handsome guy. Stronger cheekbones, softer, more prominent lips, my teeth even responded well to this new toothpaste I tried, and they were even and white and my smile definitely improved. My adam’s apple stuck out more, you know, making me look even more mature, and my voice deepened. My jawline evened out and my chin was stronger in profile. My nose was sort of what they call aquiline, not the sorta flat shapeless nose I’d had when I was a kid. I guess I was finally getting hit with the handsome stick. I didn’t think I was anything special, I knew I was better looking but I didn’t believe I was good looking or handsome. But I noticed Frank noticed. And that was fun.
So we were headed into May and towards summer break. I went to PE like all the kids, but I didn’t participate in sports or anything outside of class. So we played basketball and soccer and touch football which was a bit more touch than the rules intended, you know, and we ran track and did some swimming and some weight training and—well, we had a good track and field and good gym and pool and all that gear we needed was there. Someone said John was responsible for us getting it, and I thought maybe his family donated some money or something.
But I was at least a lot more coordinated in May than January. And then something more unusual happened. One day I noticed my shoes were too tight. My feet were a bit bigger, as were my hands these days, too, but I needed some bigger shoes so my Mom gave me the credit card and who do I run into at the shoe store but Tristan and John.
They help me shop for new track shoes. But it was weird. I took off my toes jammed into the shoe running shoes, the same ones John had sent me, and my feet looked huge. Like, they would never go back in those shoes. So the salesman measures my feet, and then John says, double check that, and sure enough the guy had made a mistake by a couple of sized. I was up to size 16. But those were snug so John insisted I get some size 18s. I mean, last i remembered I thought I was like size 11 or 12. Anyways, my big feet and hands didn’t look too comical in spite of the fact I was only 5’8” tall, but I did joke with Tristan and John that I would be a much better swimmer next time we went to the pool. Ha ha. Tristan did say my feet looked huge. Like he should talk, his feet were as big at the rest of him. So then John said, “maybe Peter will grow into them.” My feet, he meant, but no way. I was about the tallest in my family. And then Tristan of course dropped the joke he’d just set up, he looks at me, looks at John and said, “You know what they say, big feet, big….” but I threw a pair of socks at him and it actually went into his mouth which was hysterical. We just fell about the place laughing. John had an extra three-for-one coupon for the store that was about to expire so he gave me the extra one. He was nice that way. Considerate.
Afterwards, I had more money left because of the coupon, I wanted to buy some underwear, because the pair I’d been wearing had been chafing the entire bike ride over to the mall, and John insisted he take me to UnderArmour store, which I would never shop at but he said they were having a super sale and he had more coupons. So I go there with them, and it’s about the gayest thing I’ve done buying underwear with a couple of gay friends, but I liked some of the boxer briefs, but John insisted I buy the really long black cut just above the knees boxer briefs, and I admit they felt really good. So I wore a pair home and bought six more pairs, because I had the coupons and there was this insane sale.
So that was that Saturday in early May. The Sunday was pretty normal, but Monday I woke up and I noticed my dick was bigger. In fact, my dick was longer, like an inch, and thicker, like a half inch, and my balls were heavier too. So I went to school in the UnderArmour boxer briefs and I look pretty good in my clothes, now pretty huge feet, and my package had a bit of a bulge to it, which was very fun. So I went through school to PE and I went to the locker and stripped and pulled my jockstrap on over my bigger package and it looked pretty good. I mean, not like Tristan in the showers good, but not bad for Mr. Joe Average. So we ran track and I was glad I had that jockstrap because for the first time I could feel the weight of my junk bouncing and stretching and pulling and just being a lot more rambunctious than I had ever noticed before. Of course, I was maybe 6.5” long erect, you know, but that was a big improvement over my previous 5.5” long erect.
Well, I get back to the locker room and I pull off my gym shorts and jockstrap together, like I usually do, and Ernest says, “Dude!”
And I look down and I’m bigger than this morning. Like, a lot bigger than this morning. I had hit a major growth spurt. My cock was hanging like 6” soft and my balls were like heavy plums. I was a bit stunned. I thought it mustn’t be what I really seeing is real sort of thing, but I go to the showers and I shampoo my hair (which takes longer than it used to because it’s so long and thick and full and then i used the body wash on my chest, shoulders, arms, abs, and …. damn! I mean, wow. It felt even bigger than it looked in the locker room. Of course I wasn’t used to a big dick in my hands, I mean Frank was pretty big, but my cock had never even… my genitals must weigh three times more than last month. I guess I didn’t notice it. I mean, why would I? But it sure made me happy. I got a big dick!
So I rinse off, towel dry and wrap my towel around my waist and my junk makes a big lumpy bulge sticking out under the towel. I go to the locker, I take off the towel and I swear it looks bigger than in the showers. It’s just, I’m huge. I’m not Tristan huge, but I’m really really big. I got a really big dick. And balls.
I pull on the UnderArmour, and they strap down my junk against my leg, so I can pull on my jeans, but you could still totally tell I had major cockage going on in my junk drawer. Ha ha. But it was so fun. I could feel my cock and balls rolling around every time I moved. Hot!
Anyways I managed to not make a huge show of it all in the locker room, but I got dressed and looked at myself in the mirror by the exit and I just thought to myself, “Where did this hot guy come from?” Because I finally realised that I was handsome and hung and pretty darned sexy.
Frank came up to me just as I exited, he’d been waiting, and he asked me out that night. I enthusiastically agreed. Dinner, movie, making out, not necessarily all of the above or in that order. Ha.
We ended up at Frank’s, his parents were out, and we jerked each other off, and Frank commented on how huge my cock was. “Like always,” he said. I was confused but distracted, you know. So then we gave each other blow jobs and then we did 69 for a real long time, Frank blew one big load, I blew three. Yeah, in the last month I’d become more of a horndog. I mean, I was in control, it just took more to satiate me.
So then I flipped around and rubbed our cocks together, and damned if mine wasn’t longer and thicker than Frank’s. This was not normal. Last week he’d been the bigger guy. I said something and he looked confused and said, “I like you having a big dick like always but I am not dating you because of it. You having a big dick just was an added bonus.”
What the hell was he talking about? But he said, “Bonus.” So I boned him. He was thrashing around. I mean, practically drooling as I plowed his tight ass with my giant dick. “Don’t stop…! Whatever you do, don’t stop!” Frank moaned. Hell, he was begging. But I was happy to oblige. My cock felt hard as steel.
After I blew my load (yes I had condoms! and yes they were too tight!) we just curled up together and I stared into his handsome brown eyes. “Don’t do that,” Frank said.
“Stare at me with your incredible hazel eyes. Fuck I just wanna fall into them like I’d dive into the ocean and never come up!”
I was stunned. Wow. “You’ll just have to get used to it, because I’m gonna keep staring. Unless you distract me…”
“And how would I distract you?”
“Some big object heading straight for my mouth might distract me.” And he smiled and I knew he was already hard, duh, so I went down on him after he scooted up against pillows on the headboard. He was comfy, his big cock was rock hard and I inhaled the whole thing and just wished it were even bigger. I was a greedy cocksucker, no doubt. But Frank so was handsome and muscular and sexy and hung and kind and stylish and funny and smart and, oh fuck, he came in my mouth and he tasted so very good. Not like some guys. He was like, it was indescribable. I think I was going to be addicted to his cum. He sure was to mine.
Later we were curled up and I looked at my giant flaccid cock and said, “I’m so glad my cock got huge!”
Frank grabbed my cock, gently, and said, “How old were you when you knew you were gonna be huge?
“Uh…. this morning.” He tickled me.
“No, seriously. when?”
“I started young. I had a big dick when I was about 10 or 11 so I used to hide it, and then it just got a lot bigger. Maybe it still is.”
I have no idea why I said such a bald-faced lie. But I just did because it’s what Frank seemed to expect. “I knew it,” he said, “you were hyper sexed from puberty. Macro-sexuality.”
“Umm, sure, I guess.”
Well, his parents found us in bed because we fell asleep. But you know what? They were totally cool about it, especially after we assured them we had used condoms. So I ended up having late night pie and coffee with the Morrises. They made it all seem perfectly normal. Maybe it finally was.
So I went home and crashed and woke up refreshed and I jumped up out of bed and my cock swung down and hit my quadriceps with a meaty “Whap!” Holy fuck. I was bigger than last night. I mean, fuck. I got the ruler. I had a raging hardon and I laid the ruler down the top of my rigid cock. I was 11” long. fuck. Two days ago I was fove and a half and now I was double that in length and thickness. My balls were like avocado sized. Huge. Why couldn’t Frank remember that I hadn’t been hung. He’d gone on and on about how big I was. Even in front of his parents a bit. Mortifying.
I looked back down. My cock was longer than the 12” ruler by about an inch. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?
And as I looked it bloated thicker and thicker. Okay, so when I finally got dressed in my new underwear, with my cock strapped and hanging 8.5” down my thigh, and my new socks and size 18 shoes which were now an exact fit, and I pulled on a t-shirt and it was too small and I found a Large and it fit okay, and I pulled up my stretch slacks and it’s a good thing they stretched because they were molded to my body. I had muscles sticking out in places and cock and balls bulging out in another. Fuck. I was a huge hung guy. 13 fucking inches erect!!!
I got this idea. I looked up how long size 18 shoes are. They are 13 5/16 inches. My feet were about as exactly long as my dick.
But on the way to school my feet started to hurt. My shoes were too tight. I waited until lunch, high tailed it to the mall, and swapped my shoes for the now correct size of US 24. 15 5/16 inches long. But…?
I swung by my house. Mom was out shopping. I went into my room and looked at my massive feet. Then I pulled down my slacks, which were really tight, and a bit short, and gaped at the massive meat bulging soft in my UnderArmour. I mean, I was so hung my soft cock went down to just an inch above the hemline in the long, long boxer briefs. Soft. I pulled down my boxers and my cock flopped out, about 12 inches, and my balls flopped and hung down in my super stretched scrotum. My god my balls were freakish. Like grapefruit sized, they seemed to expand larger as I stared. I stroked my cock, I was so fucking turned on, that my cock started to swell until it was over 15” long. The same size as my feet. and thick like a liter bottle of water.
I wanted to feel what this was like to cum with this much raw sexual power. I felt my blood boiling with lust and I stroked my incredibly huge hard, firm cock and then I felt my balls draw up underneath, a herculean effort, and then I felt the hot cum enter the base of my cock, and pump quickly up inside my urethra, and then I suddenly was shooting 4 foot long ropes of hot cum across the room to splat splat splat on the mirror. I shot about 20 shots. I was gasping for air, I was overwhelmed by the intensity of the orgasm. All I could think of was, “Frank!”
I wanted to fuck him so hard right now. Just the thought of it provoked another eruption of cum, splatting onto the mirror. I heard a knocking at the door, I looked out the window and Frank was there. I didn’t even dress. I opened the front door, grabbed him and dragged him upstairs, and threw him across the bed and he was quickly helping me to strip him naked. His own cock was swollen and turgid but it was his tight ass I wanted. I pushed my cock head between his ass cheeks, he gasped, precum slopped out of my dick, and I slid into Frank as he cried out in pleasure. I fucked him a good long time, cumming three times, about every five minutes, and he was gasping and moaning and spurting cum out of his own huge dick, although mine was monstrously big compared to his normal big cock.
After I fucked him for 30 minutes, cumming six times, I was satiated, and Frank was gasping. I started pulling out and Frank cried out, “No, don’t pull out! Stay in me!” I slowed down but I slowly withdrew my cock. It was much thicker now than it had been when we started. Like thick as a two-liter bottle. I was one monster-cock-hung fucker.