Added Dec 2018 13k views 4.5 stars (14 votes) 2,355 words
I’d toured the little azure bungalow Pete and I were moving into together (sigh, our first place together, so romantic) while it was still crammed with a hundred junk stores’ worth of boxes, newspapers, and bric-a-brac courtesy of the recently deceased previous owner. But by the time we turned up with our U-Haul two weeks later, the place was so empty and clean it looked fresh-built just for us. We were ensconced and snuggling before the sun had melted into the ocean.
We decided to shower first before christening our new bedroom. I was already in boxers, my usual at-home attire, so while Pete shucked his moving clothes I went to retrieve two of our favorite big, nubby bath towels from our new linen closet. That’s when I noticed a strange wooden box high up on the top shelf, half-hidden in shadows. “Hey, Pete, come check this out!” I called out.
“What is it, Cam?” Pete stepped out of the bedroom into the hallway, and I drew in a breath. Pete was already gloriously naked. I stopped, mouth slightly open as I took him in. He grinned and spread his arms wide, showing off the lightly tanned, beautifully proportioned gymnast’s physique that was my every wet dream. Even after eleven months together I still wasn’t over how sculpted, honed, and generally sexeriffic he was, like an Olympic athlete whose event was All-Around Hotness. Pick an attribute, it was perfect. His hair along turned me on: short and black on top, faintly stubbly along his jaw, and curling lightly between his thick pecs. I ran a hand absently through my own long ginger hair, distracted by the hotness.
He lifted an eyebrow. Had I called him out to just to stare? it seemed to be asking. His long, fat, equally mouth-watering cock began twitching easily toward the vertical, enjoying the attention.
Looking up from the mesmerizing display, I jerked my head up toward the strange box. “Help me get this down?” I said, ignoring my own tenting dick. I could at least hold my own in that department. Though I swam religiously and was naturally very fit, I was a couple inches shorter and generally smaller than him in every way (which Pete loved)… except for the compensatory couple of inches I had on him in both length and girth (which Pete also loved). He delighted in appreciating, and, yes, getting fucked with, my extra-large endowment. Sometimes he even joked about wishing I was bigger, especially when I gave in and bent to take the tip right into my mouth. It was all I could manage, but he watched in delight… or licked my balls, or rimmed my tight, eager hole while I made a play at servicing myself. But though we both loved our our endless foreplay, when we got to the fucking Pete almost always topped because, bottom line (so to speak), my twitching ass simply could not get enough of his sweet, amazing, just-shy-of-eight-inch tool.
We had the wooden box down in short order and situated it on the coffee table, looking it over as we sat on the couch before it, bare shoulders brushing, both of us still hard but in no hurry to do something about it. We were usually hard for each other anyway during alone time like this, and often made a game of seeing how long it would take us to abandon whatever we were doing and fuck like animals. So we tilted our heads, examining the box, banking our awareness of each other’s heat, scent, and arousal.
The box looked old but sturdy, apparently made of dark, polished cherry wood and square at the base if a little squat to be a perfect cube. It was covered in strange, gilt occult symbols inscribed into all six surfaces. Pete ran a finger along the incised characters, obviously intrigued. “Hey, maybe this is full of magic talismans and stuff!” he joked. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen I pried the inset lid free and set it aside.
I snorted. “Magical sex toys, maybe,” I said. Most of what was inside the box was hidden away in various small canvas draw-string bags, but laying on top was what was very obviously an impressively sized rose-crystal penis—though with a glans at both ends, like a double-headed dildo. More arcane symbols trailed around its surface, and at the exact midpoint a circle of tiny Latin letters circumnavigated the shaft.
I blinked at it. “Who’d want to fuck themselves with cut glass?” I wondered aloud.
“I told you, it’s sorcery stuff!” Pete said playfully. He grabbed the double-headed glass dick and held it up. “Magic dildo! I ask that you give Cam a fourteen-inch boner!” he said with a huge grin.
“Give me that!” I said, trying to snatch the thing away from him. The moment my hand wrapped around the shaft, enveloping the upper half as Pete had the lower, an electric charge coursed through me, like the thing was somehow packing serious voltage. I tried to let go, but I found I couldn’t. I looked up and saw that Pete’s eyes were wide with surprise—he’d felt it too. Then his gaze dropped to my crotch, and his eyes got even wider.
“Holy shit, Cam,” he said, true awe in his voice.
Not understanding, I looked down and gasped.
My boner had escaped through the fly of my boxers (as it often did). Except—what I saw was not what I was used to seeing down there. It was big… so big. No, I was big before. This thing—it was huge. I stared into its single damp eye, dumbstruck. Huge wasn’t even enough. It was longer, thicker. Massive. And, I realized, closer. It was closer to my mouth than ever before.
“Holy shit, Cam!” Pete repeated in a whisper. When I looked up his eyes were dancing between my newly massive erection and my full, pink lips, the talent of which he was almost obsessed with. I met his eyes, willing them to twinkle at him. Forgetting everything else but how much pleasure we loved to give each other, and how much we got off on turning each other on, I slid just the tip of my tongue teasingly along my upper lip. Pete watched intently, tantalized, and shuddered at the images I was putting into his head.
I looked down to gauge his reaction and my heart dropped, all thoughts of enticement gone. Pete’s cock, formerly eight inches of luscious glory, was now easily half that. My eyes jumped to his, and then to the rose-crystal double-headed dick talisman we both still had in an unwilling death-grip. I wasn’t an idiot, and it didn’t take me a second to do the math. “Fuck! Fuck!” I said. “It took—!” I felt my heart racing—I was near panic. “Give it back!” I shouted at the crystal thing. “Give it back to him!”
“Cam—” Pete broke in steadily, like a trainer with a spooked horse. It wasn’t the first time he’d been the steady one and I’d been the crazy one. And the best part was, it usually worked. I met his hazel eyes again, and they were full of reassurance despite him being the one who’d gotten screwed by this asshole magic dick.
I was still breathing raggedly and my heart still pounding raggedly, but I was able to get my thoughts in order. I needed the crystal cock to fix what it had done, but there were probably ruled. I tried phrasing it the way Pete had. “Magic dildo,” I said, addressing the thing politely if a little hectically, “I ask that you give Pete his eight-inch cock—”
“Seven and seven-eighths,” Pete inserted, sotto voce.
I ignored him. “—back to him. Please,” I added, just for extra courtesy.
We stared at the rose-crystal cock we were holding up between us for several seconds, then looked down at our raging erections. “Shit,” I said, meeting Pete’s gaze.
“One change per body part?” Pete guessed, shrugging his broad shoulders uncertainly.
I felt so bad. Worse, I felt guilty for wondering how this turn of events would affect the thing we both loved to do most in bed. I started to apologize, but he cut me off.
“Relax,” Pete said, smiling shamelessly, his blazing ardor clear in his eyes. “I still know how to use this thing.” And not only did I know he was telling the truth, my dick seemed to be telling me to enjoy being the bigger one, like I had before—this was just a more extreme version of the cock dynamic we’d always had. “In fact,” he went on, “I’d find a way to fuck you into next week even if I had no dick at all.” My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t doubt it for a second, not that I wanted to put it to the test—at least, not permanently. Pete was getting more and more into what he was saying. “And as for that—” He eyed my suddenly enormous pole hungrily.
“Yeah?” I breathed.
“I don’t know what I want more right now—my mouth around that beautiful giant dick, or yours…”
I felt a huge, sudden rush of arousal wash over me. My imagination is pretty intense, and right then I could almost feel Pete’s hot mouth along my shaft as he tongued every inch of me. I swallowed. “Actually,” I told him, barely aware I was even speaking, “we could probably do both.” Pete let a small moan escape, and suddenly, without even thinking about it, I blurted out my own request. “Magic dildo,” I said, looking right into Pete’s lust-dark eyes, “I ask that you make my tongue two inches… shorter.”
Another surge pushed through both of us. “Unh, Cam, you don’t have to—” Pete started to say, then trailed off. “Unnnngggg,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back slightly.
I was feeling my decent-sized tongue shorten in my mouth, which meant Pete was feeling his lengthen. I barely even noticed how weird it was to have a shorter-than-before tongue—right then all my attention was fixed on his beautiful mouth. “Show me,” I rasped. He looked at me, eyes blazing with want, and then slowly slid something like three inches of pink tongue out from those sweet, wonderful lips. I watched as he ran the tip along the dark, bristly stubble of his chin and moaned out a long, guttural “fuu-u-u-uuck.”
Seemingly of its own accord, my free hand was now wrapped firmly around my mighty, fourteen-inch, pre-slicked monster dick. Pete swiftly followed suit, though neither of us was looking anywhere at the moment but into each other’s arousal-drunk eyes.
When he spoke, Pete’s voice was low and feral-sexy. “Magic dildo,” he said without breaking our gaze, and my stomach rippled with butterflies at what he might do, “I ask that you make Cam’s nipples… much more sensitive.”
I barely noticed the surge, as I was too busy I picturing him ministering to my already pretty sensitive nips with that amazing new tongue, and stroked my giant cock a little more tightly. “Magic dildo,” I said, still not looking away from his beautiful eyes, “I ask that you make Pete… three inches taller!”
“Fuck, Cam!” Pete exclaimed. The surge was more potent that time, and it was just as much a turn-on to feel myself getting a little smaller as it was to watch my Adonis lover’s Olympic-gymnast-perfect form stretch and grow like his entire body was getting a hard-on. “Oh! Oh, yeah!” we said together.
As if the thought came to us as one we both stood, gazing at each other in wonder. Where before I’d been just slightly shorter there was a huge difference between us now—something like eight inches. Suddenly nothing else mattered. We’d hit that moment when there was no more tantalizing, no more foreplay. I could tell he needed it as badly as I did. “Dude,” I said, barely able to string thoughts together, “I need you to fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, taking me in up and down. “Fuck yeah.”
There was a snap that sounded loud in the quiet room. Confused, we looked down and saw that the crystal cock had broken cleanly into two pieces, right at the center between the two lines of tiny Latin lettering. We looked at the pieces in our hands blankly for a second, then tossed them into the box on top of the hoard of canvas bags and whatever was in them. Without another thought for magic, talismans, or reciprocal transformation wishes we came together in a fierce embrace and began madly kissing each other, our newly disparate cocks rutting desperately against each other as we clinched. Pete grabbed my ass and pulled me right up off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, both of us even more turned on than we thought we’d be. Still mashing our mouths together we moved blindly toward the bedroom, impatient to explore each other’s bodies as if a whole new world had been opened up to us.
The night deepened, and we kept going at it, making love to each other with the same measureless passion as before and with all new levels of excitement. And we were so intoxicated by each other, our eyes riveted on each other whenever we were in the same room, we managed to close up the box and hide it away again the next morning without even noticing that sometime during the night the two halves of our pink-crystal talisman had, somehow, lined themselves up again and quietly knit themselves back together, solid, whole, and—were it ever to be eventually rediscovered—ready for another round of changes.
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