The four Ds

by BRK   

Four close friends get away for a mountain cabin vacay, only for the environs to make them hornier than usual.

Dante pushed open the door and walked into the cabin, spreading his arms wide. “Voilà!” he said, taking in the spacious, if slightly dusty, oak-themed interior. “Welcome to Chez Cavazos, I guess.”

His friends came in behind him, looking around curiously at the high-peaked vaulted ceiling, the heavy wooden beams, and sturdy, comfortable-looking furniture, leaving the bags and coolers in the car to get later. “I can’t believe you’ve never been up here,” Darius said, crossing to the wide, stone-set fireplace and examining some small, framed photographs propped on the mantelpiece above.

Dante joined him and was surprised to see the pictures were all of more or less the same group of well-built shirtless men, arms around each other’s shoulders as they beamed for the camera. In addition to the cozy-looking photos there were a few other objets d’art along the mantel of a suggestive or even sybaritic nature, including a deliberately rough sculpture of two brawny men from the waist up who seemed to be melting into each other as they furiously kissed. Next to it was a squat totem of a monkey god cheekily grasping his arm-sized, very erect dick. “Me neither,” Dante laughed, and Darius gave him a shy grin from under his lashes. Dante had never even met the older second cousin who’d abruptly disappeared last autumn after arranging the bequeathal of his entire estate to Dante, but it sure looked like he’d had a fun life.

Dante’s pulse picked up a little as his exceptionally pretty, wrestler-built graphic designer friend tentatively held his gaze before finally turning back to the photo in his hand. Dante let out a silent breath, his skin feeling a little heated under his polo. He and Darius had known each other for years, but it was only lately that Dante had been asking himself what those sweet, black-cherry lips might taste like. Now, in this moment, the urge seemed almost irresistible. He decided to walk away for the moment. Patting Darius’s compact, bulky shoulder for a second, enjoying the brief sensation of warm, solid flesh through the thin heather tee, Dante headed back to close the heavy front door against the mild early spring evening, calling out, “So what do you guys think?” to the others as he went.

Dmitry was at the huge picture window taking up most of the far wall, his expression stone-faced as he stared out at the sun setting over the snow-capped mountains, bathing the steeply rolling forests between with a warm reddish glow. “The view’s not bad, at least,” he said grudgingly, as though it was the most that could be said about the otherwise dire and barely tolerable accommodations.

“Shut up, Grunk,” the other three said in unison, all of them chuckling. Dmitry snorted but couldn’t hide a tiny, sunset-red smile. The name traced back to some girl in high school who’d soured on Dmitry after making cow eyes at him to no avail for a whole semester; she’d gifted him with the nickname, a portmanteau of “grumpy” and “hunk,” and it had immediately stuck. It certainly fit him: he was exceptionally tall, calmly arrogant, icily good-looking, and he worked out his aggressions at the gym like clockwork. It seemed he had a lot of aggressions, which he addressed very thoroughly with lots of reps that yielded a slow-growing profusion of steel-hard muscle. The other three loved teasing him with the moniker, and Dante was convinced that Dmitry sometimes exaggerated his gruffness just to give them random opportunities to do so.

The only other nickname among the four of them was “the four Ds” for the whole group, with which Seth had gifted them via text a few weeks after Seth, Dante, Darius, and Dmitry had met sharing a row in a massive intro lecture their first year in college. When Dante had objected, quite reasonably, that Seth didn’t meet the “D” prerequisite for such a club, Seth had just sent a winky face. They’d all laughed (or lol’ed). Then came the drunken night a few months later where they’d all taken a long whiz out behind the DQ, and Seth had had a chance to prove the old adage that tall lanky guys had it best…

The “D” in question was in the living room area, looking around at the comfortable-looking, deep-set sofa and armchairs angled to face both the fireplace and the big window. He was nodding. “I like it,” Seth said. “If I didn’t have to commute to the hospital I’d live here. Warmer than I expected, though,” he added stagily, before whipping off the heavy university football shirt he’d been wearing and tossing it dramatically over the back of the sofa.

Any other time Dante would have rolled his eyes, but he was already feeling a little flushed, and Seth’s defined, sinewy torso with its long, firm, lightly marked abs seemed to amplify his heated arousal. Dante glanced at Darius, who seemed to be feeling the same. As if on a dare, they pulled off their shirts together like they had been practicing for some sort of Olympic synchronized disrobing meet, each expertly lofting their shirts onto the sofa back next to Seth’s.

Then they were all looking at Dmitry, who was eyeing them coldly—though something about the tinge of his pale skin around the neck told Dante he wasn’t any less affected by this hothouse mood of growing arousal than the rest of them. “C’mon, Grunk,” Seth urged, grinning widely at him as he slowly slid a hand up his belly in provocation.

Dante, for his part, had found his eyes dropping to Dmitry’s new-looking jeans, which seemed to be straining at the zipper. He licked his lips automatically. Dmitry, as they all knew from the DQ incident, was the only one of them who had “D” man Seth well beat in the phat cock department, though at times the surly fucker seemed to view his generously proportioned wang almost as a burden and an inconvenience. Sure enough, after looking wordlessly between them for a heated moment, he grimaced and angrily reached into his pants to straighten out his burgeoning erection.

I guess we’re all getting turned on, Dante thought. What the hell is up with that? The situation made him curious, but the prickle of anticipation he was feeling erased any impulse other than a need to go with the flow. They were all in the living area now between the sofa and the chairs, as if they’d drawn closer to each other without realizing it.

Dmitry abruptly gave them a sardonic smile and grunted, “Fine.” He began undoing his short-sleeved solid-burgundy button-down, to cheers of “Do it!” from Seth and “Yeah, nice” from Dante as a sliver of chiseled, pink muscle was increasingly revealed downward—first collarbone, then smooth, hard-walled cleavage, then rippling, stone-hard abs, finally punctuated by the head and a couple of inches of wide, stiff cock nosing past his waistband. Darius, maybe a little overwhelmed, took Dante’s hand as they watched, and Dante clasped it tightly, taking Seth’s for good measure on the other side. Once it was fully open Dmitry whipped off the shirt and threw it aside, blasting them with the close-up sight of a hard, muscle-packed torso so perfectly sculpted Adonis would have killed a satyr for it.

“Fuck!” Dante blurted out. He looked between his friends guiltily. “Jesus, when did you all get so hot? I’m hard as a fucking rock here,” he admitted. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his jaw by his ear before dropping onto his bare shoulder.

“Me too,” Darius said quietly, squeezing Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at him, and Darius added sheepishly, “I have been since we got here.”

“Damn right, we need to take the edge off,” Seth said, caressing Dante’s other wrist with his thumb. “Hey, let’s have a circle jerk!”

“What?” Dmitry said flatly. He made as if to step back, but before he could Seth reached into Dmitry’s pants and grabbed the larger man’s oversized wang. Dmitry froze, not quite suppressing a gasp.

“Uh, Seth, bro, I—” Dante started to say, as Darius’s hand squeezed his tighter—in alarm or anticipation, Dante wasn’t sure.

Seth reached over with his free hand and deftly undid Dante’s waistband button, sliding his zipper down before he knew it and letting out his extra-wide, flat-headed five-inch cannon. It was in Seth’s firm grasp before Dante could even draw another breath. “Commando, I like it,” Seth said. “C’mon, you guys do mine.”

Dante didn’t understand why he was feeling this overheated and aroused, or how his inhibitions and the usual barriers between them had suddenly melted away, but now that the circle jerk was already in progress and he was feeling the raw pleasure of Seth’s grip around his hard, sensitive prick it seemed almost perverse to object.

Sharing a quick glance with Dmitry, Dante reached out and popped the top fastener on Seth’s beat-up, knee-sprung 501s, then, each of them grabbed a side and pulled the button fly apart with a satisfying bup-bup-bup-bup. Behind, Dante’s very hard log of a cock was straining and flexing against tringle patterned boxer briefs. Dante and Dmitry pulled these down too, a little more awkwardly, and the jeans and briefs both slid down a little off Seth’s ass exposing a very hard, very straight, two-finger-thick erection only a couple inches shy of Dmitry’s raging 12-inch monster.

“Damn, Seth,” Dante said. He reached to take the beautiful succulent-looking cock in his hand, but Dmitry got their first, boldly gripping the mighty erection as if he were entitled to it. Dante smiled—there was plenty of room for a second stroker, fortunately. He wrapped his hand ceremoniously around Seth’s big prick and squeezed lightly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Seth said, returning the favor on Dante’s blunter prick as he looked across at Darius with a grin.

Dante looked over and huffed a laugh. Darius looked up at him and Dmitry with the most sheepish “come and get it” look he’d ever seen. Apparently, while he and Dmitry had been working on Seth, the shorter, darker-skinned stud had quietly undone his own chinos with his free hand and pulled down the fly, letting out his own very adamant erection.

Dante found himself gaping a little, surprised underneath his spiking, sweat-making arousal. At the DQ piss-off, Darius hadn’t seemed that endowed, but evidently he was a grower: though narrower than Dante’s his hard-on was substantially longer, more than halfway between Dante’s flat, uncut five-inch torpedo and Seth’s flat, neatly circumcised ten.

Darius was looking at him as though waiting for a reaction, as if there could be a better one than the bucking of his own cock in Seth’s slowly stroking fist (Dante realized with his flickering awareness that he and Dmitry were stroking too, rhythmically caressing Seth’s substantial erection). “It’s as hot as the rest of you,” Dante told Darius, who beamed back at him. Again moving together they reached for each other’s cocks, Seth pushing down making room for Darius to grip Dante around the head, while Dmitry grasped Darius’s longer, thinner tool.

At the same time, Darius took a spot on Dmitry’s enormous tool and squeezed, gasping at how much of his hand it filled.

“Hey! Not so hard!” Dmitry barked suddenly.

Startled, Darius jerked back, still gripping Dmitry’s cock so tight he wrenched it out of Seth’s hand—and completely off of Dmitry’s body!

Darius stared at the rock-hard, pulsing 12-inch cock in his fist and let out an “Ack!” before spasmodically letting go of the tool. It hit the handmade throw rug under their feet with a thud.

“Ow!” Dmitry exclaimed when it hit. He turned angrily on Darius. “You fucker, what did you do?”

Dante was, if anything, more aroused than ever, flooded with a craving for cock and unable to think straight, the air around him seeming thick and stultifying, filled with its own pleasure. The four of them went on stroking each other’s very hard tools as if that were more important than anything—except for Dmitry’s, of course, which lay twitching needily on the floor between them, like a sacrifice at the center of a demonic circle.

“Duude,” Dante said, looking up at his too-handsome, too-perfectly muscled friend in awe. “Dude, your dick comes off?!”

“No!” Dmitry said. To Darius he added, “Put—put it back!”

Darius, still gripping Dante’s leaking, eager prick, bent down and tentatively picked up the fever-hot, throbbing tool.

They stared at it. “Wait,” Seth said. “Wait. He said ‘ow.’” He turned to Dmitry. “You said ‘ow’ when it hit. You can… still feel it?”

Dmitry stared at the pulsing footlong hard-on in Darius’s hand as he held it up for them to see. Dmitry nodded, looking stunned.

“Darius,” Dante said urgently. “You have to try…” He didn’t finish, but left his mouth a little open, his tongue wiggling slightly—enough to suggest what he wanted Darius to try.

“Wait!” Dmitry warned, glaring at Dante. Darius, however, wide-eyed and flushed with warm, overwhelming need like the rest of them, could not resist. He drew the uncut monster cock up to his mouth and slid it between his lips. Dmitry lifted his chin and moaned loudly. Darius shivered and started full-on fellatio, increasing Dmitry’s groans and grunts of pleasure exponentially.

Dante suddenly knew he had to taste Darius’s cock—the cock he held in his hands. This was his chance. Tightening his grip, with quick pull and jerk he tried mimicking Darius’s actions from before. To his amazement, Darius’s quivering erection snapped free of his groin with a soft pop, and Dante had it in his hand—and then it was in his mouth, and Darius was grunting and moaning around the giant cock he was expertly fellating.

Dmitry, panting and grunting, glared at Darius and then at Dante. Before Dante realized what was happening, Dmitry reached over and shoved Darius’s and Seth’s hands aside, then angrily pulled Dante’s blunt erection with a yank. Dante, expecting a stab of pain at the separation, was shocked at how good it felt—not only was his cock pulling free almost like a mini-orgasm, but it felt deeply, intoxicatingly amazing for his cock to be free of his body, like a new kind of euphoric freedom no man had ever before experienced. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

He had just enough time to register and understand this carnal epiphany before Dmitry started licking and mouthing the head and upper shaft of Dmitry’s cock like it was a big ice cream cone he was teaching a lesson. Dante let out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure and doubled down on the blow-job he was giving Darius’s hard, pre-spitting cock as though it were Dmitry’s, as the two of them stared each other down.

“I guess I’m left to take care of myself,” Seth said with a grin. He did not sound even a little disappointed at the prospect of sucking himself off, Dante thought, amused. Experimentally, Seth gripped himself with both hands and pulled, twisting his prick very slightly. It came off in his hands with a minimum of effort. “Holy fuck,” Seth said, delighted. Adjusting his grip on his flat, middle-flaring ten-inch wang, he started going to town on it, sucking his detached cock with the relish of a fellatio connoisseur. It was hot just to watch, and as he looked around the circle he realized there was a feedback loop of pleasure leaping through them as they sucked, feeling not only the heady pleasure of blowing and being blown but an increasingly strong taste of everyone else’s two-layered pleasure as well, building up between them.

Dante was already close, and watching the others as they passionately blew the crazily aroused detached cocks in their hands drove him to the edge. The others were experiencing the same need to climax, and then suddenly it all burst free and they were cumming hard, spurt after spurt, and the overlapping sensations made it feel like he was cumming into Dmitry’s mouth and his own, and Darius’s and Seth’s, too.

The climax almost broke him, and as his knees weakened he threw his arm around Darius’s thick shoulders, relying on his sturdy strength. Panting hard, with his other hand he lowered Darius’s still-hard prick, not sure what to do with his.

He stared across at Seth, looking sweaty and very self-satisfied (literally, Dante thought), then at Dmitry, who seemed… defiant? Holding Dante’s gaze, he very deliberately lowered Dante’s wide and stubby, still-erect prick and shoved it against his own groin, lifting his boxer-briefs up to hold it in place. “Mine now,” he said, taunting.

Then they both gasped. Dante could still feel his cock, but now in a more ghostly way… like it was still a part of his being but belonged to someone else. Dmitry looked down quickly in dismay. “Shit, I can feel it, it merged into me,” he said. He looked up at Dante plaintively, all trace of his attitude erased. “Dante, I—” he started.

Dante cut him off with a smile, his heart still pounding from the rush of orgasm. “It’s okay,” he said, oddly unconcerned at the idea of his cock not being in his own crotch. “I’m okay.” Besides, he was pretty sure their cocks were still removable, though they’d have to see whether that was true only here at the cabin, or just in general.

“Let me try,” Seth said, looking at Darius, then Dante, his eyes falling to the long, slightly darker erection in Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at Darius, who shrugged, still a bit overwhelmed. Dante turned and handed Darius’s long, delicious, cum-slicked cock to Seth, who pushed it into his groin and held it a few seconds.

“Whoa,” Darius said suddenly.

Seth looked up at Darius, eyes wide and smiling. “Fuck, that feels good,” he said. He started stroking Darius’s slick cock, and he and Darius both whimpered in pleasure.

Fuck, Dante was going to need to cum again soon. He looked at Darius. “I want to see that big giant cock on you,” he admitted.

Darius looked at Dante, then at Dmitry. The latter was back to his usual arch expression. “This one’s mine now,” he said, pointing at Dante’s hard cock in his briefs.

“Okay then.” Darius did as Seth had, pushing the too-huge cock into his crotch, and then he and Dmitry both sighed. Darius started stroking the big, bobbing erection lightly, watching Dmitry’s pleasure while feeling it himself.

“I guess this one’s yours,” Seth said cheerily, offering Dante his own 10-inch beauty.

Dante took it, but oddly he wasn’t in any hurry to re-encumber his crotch—something in him liked the current set-up, sharing his blunt 5-incher with big muscley Dmitry this way. Instead, he looked over at Darius. He’d had a radical idea and wanted to act on it before he was thinking straight again. “Open wide,” he said.

Darius grinned and complied, no doubt figuring he was about to help Seth experience a disconnected blow job like they all had. His eyes widened comically as Dante shoved the big cock into his gaping maw base-first, holding it in place against the back of his mouth. A moment later Seth sucked in a breath, and Darius closed his eyes as he closed his lips around his new mouthcock and smiled.

Dante around looked at the others, who were staring at Darius with amazement. “C’mon,” he told them teasingly. “We shouldn’t let it get cold.” Not that there was any chance of that particular cock being bereft in any way for very long.

They all made out and stroked each other for a raw, sultry hour as the sky filled slowly with stars outside the picture window. Finally they came all over again, their orgasms overlapping even more than before. As they crumpled onto the big couch in a lax, still-aroused satiation, legs and arms atop each other in a flaccid heap, Dante made a mental note to make sure these trips to the cabin of suspicious arousal became a regular monthly event for the four Ds… and maybe a few equally horny friends who might want to join in as well.

Dante flinched as Enrique, his younger brother who was visiting for a week, burst into the decent-sized, white- and aqua-tiled bathroom in Dante’s apartment. The 22-year-old had his hand up a foot in front of his face in a comical and not entirely effective effort to obscure the bathtub tableau of his older sibling and his cute muscley boyfriend showering together behind the clear sliding glass.

“Okay, look, big bro, I know I promised not come in while you two are… you know, but you’ve been in here for half an hour, man, I really need to brush my teeth before bed and—holy shit what happened to your dick?!”

Dante barely had time to register the utterly horrified expression on his brother’s face as he gaped at Dante’s nether regions—and, specifically, how his meat and potatoes seemed to be, well, devoid of any meat—before he was gone, leaving the door open and an Enrique-shaped hole in the steam.

Dante gaped at where his brother had been standing, then turned to Darius and smiled lopsidedly at him. “Guess I’d better tell him after all, huh?” Dante said, reaching behind him to shut off the steamy spray.

Darius hummed in agreement around the hefty, red-tinged hardon emerging incongruously from very kiss-bruised lips and reluctantly slid the glass door aside, reaching for a couple of thirsty blue towels hanging from a nearby rack and handing one to Dante. Said mouth equipment, of course, looked nothing like the immense pink 12-inch tool thrusting eagerly up from his groin, or the hefty brown scrotum pulled up tight and eager just below that.

Darius stepped out of the shower onto the air-warmed light-blue bath mat and the two of them started drying off, slowly and consciously easing back from their overlapping sense of intense arousal. Darius in particular was taking a while to come down, his back turned away from the lanky engineer who flicked his switch more or less on sight. They might have waited until they came again, but the four of them were still working on synchronizing their orgasms, especially during any second rounds that might crop up, so… finishing everyone off might take a while.

Their second climax of the night could wait until they’d sorted Enrique out. Dante just hoped he understood.

“I don’t understand,” Enrique said obstinately.

They were in the living room, the two older boys now properly dressed in shorts and tee shirts. Dante and Darius were on the couch; Enrique was pacing.

Dante glanced over at the very pretty longtime crush turned newly minted boyfriend seated next to him, looking scrumptious in a borrowed thin white tee that was slightly too small for his bulky, extremely cut wrestler’s physique. Darius had texted the others immediately after the shower and helped everyone calm down enough for Darius’s mouthcock to soften, along with the rest of their randy tools; even flaccid, though, the oral wang still took up a fair amount of space in Darius’s mouth. Because Dante had shoved it in root first on top of Darius’s tongue he had to fit both in there, and when it was soft his thick mouth-tool curled up on top of his tongue like a dog taking a nap on its comfy pillow. (Dante suspected that the anatomical adjustments that had retrofitted Seth’s cock as an innate and organic part of his anatomy had introduced a bit of extra interior volume to Darius’s mouth along the way to make everything work, though it was difficult to tell for sure from the outside.)

Bottom line, it was generally pretty tough for Darius to talk, soft or hard. Eating was easier than talking, fortunately, assuming he was flaccid, and certain foods were a lot of fun.

Darius caught Dante’s look and shrugged, passing the ball back to Dante. Dante nodded grimly. He was going to have to figure out how to get through to get through to Enrique, one way or another.

He let out a breath and took a moment examining his brother, as though to figure him out. The two of them sure looked a lot alike—fit but not buff, not too tall, able to wear anything and look good in it; dark eyebrows, sly-smiling, attractive in a “beautiful dreamer” sort of way. But their temperaments were not as well aligned. Their capacities were similar—his younger brother was flying through his civil engineering program with honors, just as Dante had done with electrical engineering four years earlier—but Dante knew “smart” didn’t necessarily mean “adaptable.”

“Kiko—” he began, keeping his tone level and nonconforantional.

“I don’t get it,” Enrique broke in, cutting him off. He stopped pacing and rounded on him. “How can cousin Santino’s cabin do…” He gestured agitatedly at Dante’s groin. “…that to you?”

“I don’t think it was the cabin,” Dante explained patiently. “Cousin Santino… There were a lot of weird artifacts from all these ancient cultures up there, just sitting around on the mantel, the shelves—”

“Weird artifacts?” Enrique repeated incredulously.

“Monkeys with giant dicks, stuff like that,” Dante said. “Collections. Weird mystical shit.”

Darius nodded in silent corroboration.

Enrique stood stock still in the sparse, ecru-themed living room, gaping at them incredulously. A hint of the curry Dante was slow-cooking on the stove around the corner in the kitchen in case they got hungry after the talk wafted lazily around them. “And so, what? You go up there with your three best buds and you pick up on this creepy, probably cursed artifact magic shit that’s just in the air in there for some reason because of monkey dicks or whatever. And you just start snapping each other’s junk off?”

Dante smiled. It was actually a fairly apt summary of that weekend’s events. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“And you traded them around?” Enrique said, as if this were the most impossible aspect of the whole story. “Like, what, preteen girls swapping scrunchies or something?”

Dante laughed. “Of course!” he said. “That was the best part.”

Enrique gaped at him. “The hell?!” he said. “Jamming each other’s hard-ons into your crotches and keeping them was the best part?”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine it turning out any other way,” Dante confirmed, still grinning. He looked at Darius, who nodded his agreement, and then back up at Enrique. “Four guys? Detachable dicks? I guarantee you. Every time.”

As he spoke Darius typed something in his phone and showed it to Dante. “Oh, yeah,” Dante said, checking the screen. “We were also feeling really super horny the whole time we were up there. The artifacts probably played off of that and intensified the magic.”

Enrique moved around the big, heavy coffee table and sat on it, facing Dante. “But—how did you end up without a dick?” he asked plaintively. “I’d, like, die without my hardware, bro.”

Dante held his gaze, focusing on what he wanted to say. “This is the part you’re not getting,” he said. “I still have a dick, Kiko. It’s just… attached to someone else at the moment. No biggie.”

Enrique’s expression was completely flat. “‘No biggie,’” he drawled.

“No biggie,” Dante insisted. “I still feel it, just like always. Well, basically.”

“‘Basically,’” Enrique repeated again. He was obviously still skeptical anyone might want to do such a thing—least of all his very passionate, if relentlessly monandrous, older brother. His eyes narrowed. “Who has it, anyway?” he asked. “Because that—” He pointed to Darius’s well-packed crotch. “—is not yours, big bro.”

Dante suppressed a smirk, wondering when Enrique had made a detailed enough study of Dante’s bits to recognize it on sight. Maybe he just didn’t see the family resemblance. “You remember my friend Dmitry?” he said. “I know you met him a few times when you were up at my college.”

Enrique stared. “Arrogant blond asshole? Works out a lot?” Dante nodded. Enrique’s eyes bugged. “That’s who has your dick?!”

“You don’t get it,” Dante said calmly. “It’s like… the four of us, we stimulate each other. When Seth sucks off Dmitry, he’s sucking my cock, but Dmitry and I both get off.”

Enrique looked uncertain. “For real?” he said. He scrunched his nose as if trying to imagine orgasming from someone else’s sex act in some other place.

“Okay, so picture that,” Dante continued doggedly. “Meanwhile, Seth is jerking himself off, right? While he sucks Dmitry? Except—” Dante jerked his thumb at his wrestler-hunk bf. “—Seth has Darius’s cock in his groin, all hard and ready for Seth’s eager hand.”

Enrique glanced at Darius, who nodded in confirmation.

“Seth and Darius both feel that orgasm,” Dante finished. “It’s amazing, bro. We’re all aroused, all riding the edge together, and we’re overlapping. Thrill on top of thrill. Blurring and blending. You feel your pleasure and someone else’s pleasure.”

Enrique frowned, still resisting Dante’s pitch. “But—someone else has your dick, bro,” he said stubbornly. “You could be anywhere and they could just start using it, and—”

He stopped, flummoxed, when Dante beamed at him, wiggling his brows. “Yeah, bro, exactly,” Dante said. “The other day? I was just sitting right here eating tacos, and Dmitry started wanking, all aggressive and sudden-like. Really going to town on it, you know? And then I was blowing my load, bro, all over his belly. So good. So fucking good. Surprise! Free orgasm, plus, no mess!”

Enrique’s eyes widened suddenly again, this time in outrage. “Wait! I was here for that!”

Dante winked. “I know.”

“Bro! Bro!” he gasped. “I just—I thought you just really, really liked those tacos!”

Darius barked a laugh, and Enrique turned on him. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s totally funny,” Dante countered, also chuckling. “You want to know what we were doing when you barged in on us in the shower?”

“No!”

“I was sucking Darius’s mouthboner,” Dante confided relentlessly in a loud whisper. “Which is really Seth’s dick. And at the same time—”

“Wait. Mouth… boner?” Enrique looked queasy and aroused at the same time.

Darius nodded, tapping his cheek. “So, picture this. Up at the cabin. We were ‘trading scrunchies,’ like you said. And Seth handed me his fat ten-incher,” Dante explained. “But instead of jamming the thing in my own crotch, I had a wild thought and was like, ‘Why don’t I try jamming it end-first into Darius’s mouth?’ Just to see if it would take, you feel me?” He smiled at his extra-pretty, muscle-hunk boyfriend. “And… fuck, it took.”

“The hell…?” Enrique breathed. Dante could almost see the gears turning. “Wait. So, let me get this straight. Your muscle-boy Darius here has a cock that gets hard in his mouth, which… you suck off while you’re making out, I guess?” He looked between Dante and Darius, shifting awkwardly on the coffee table like he didn’t want to admit he found that hot. “Explains why your showers take so long,” he groused. “And that’s this guy Seth’s cock? He’s your tall, redheaded nurse friend, right?”

“Right.”

Enrique’s dark brows pulled together, glancing at Darius. “And you have…? Also?” he asked, nodding his chin at Darius’s crotch, which, even sitting down, looked like a serious package. Darius smiled and nodded. “So if it was just the four of you,” he mused to himself, running the calculations in his head, “that means that that gigantic tool I saw down there before, in the shower, must belong to…” He glanced at Dante cautiously. “…that fuckhole Dmitry?”

Dante golf-clapped his approval.

Enrique rolled his eyes. “Look, this is too crazy,” he said. “I’m a ‘see it and know it’ kind of guy. I’m not going to be able to wrap my head around this until I actually experience it happening. You got me?”

Dante shrugged. “We’re going up this weekend,” he said. “Darius loves the mouthcock, no joke, but even working from home he still has to make a client design presentation for his ad agency every once in a while, and… there’s one next week.” He considered his brother. How sexually experienced was he these days? How would he react to the carnal undertow of the atmosphere up there? Dante thought he definitely looked turned on from all the talk of cocks and cum, but in the mood he was in right now he wouldn’t ever admit it. “You’re welcome to join us,” he said. “Mi casa es tu casa, as the anglos say.”

Enrique mulled this over. “Maybe…” he said distractedly, his mind clearly full of male anatomy and equipment.

Dante smirked, unable to resist goading such an easy target. “Come on, what do you say?” he teased. “Want to swap big, messy hard-ons with your big bro?”

Enrique leaped up in alarm, jabbing a finger at Dante. “No,” he said firmly. There was a definite tent in his cutoffs, but no one called him out on it. “No. I’m coming, but—I mean, I’ll go on the trip, but—” Flustered, he turned and stormed off in the direction of the guest room, leaving Dante and Darius to smirk at each other.

Dante grabbed his heavy hunk of a lover and fell back on the couch, pulling Darius on top of him with an inarticulate squawk. “Now,” Dante said, sliding his hands over the cotton straining across that amazing V-shaped back, “where the hell were we?”

Seth had a late shift on Friday, so it was agreed everyone would drive up early on Saturday. Enrique was gone Friday night. The next morning he appeared next to Dante’s dew-covered black SUV with a friend from his engineering program, Evan, and a dangerous look that dared Dante and Darius to say a damn word about it. Enrique, for his part, was wearing his most flattering black tee shirt, his lucky cargo pants, and sexy black work boots. Dante and Darius exchanged a knowing look but didn’t offer any commentary—yet.

Evan was tall and lean, with a swimmer’s build shown off fairly well by his black polo and dark jeans. He had short, well-trimmed brown hair that leaned toward mahogany in the light, bright green eyes, and full lips that seemed to twitch habitually at the corners, as though he was always reacting to what was going on around him. His awed expression and the way he kept glancing down at first Darius’s very obviously packed nether region in his jeans, then at Dante’s smoother crotch area, let Dante and Darius know that the new recruit had been fully briefed on everything Enrique had learned and was eager to find out how much of it was true.

Dante found Enrique having been curious enough about the cabin’s properties to bring a friend to witness and/or experiment with vastly amusing. He aimed a saucy wink at his brother, just to get a reaction. As expected, Enrique bristled, and his hostile glare kicked up a notch or three. Dante barely suppressed a chuckle as they finished loading the SUV with gear and supplies. Once they were set they all got into the car, clacked the doors closed, and got the party rolling.

Seth and Dmitry were already at the cabin when they arrived, making out aggressively in the living room. “Very dangerous,” Dante chided them with a smile as his party dropped their bags and coolers near the door next to the others’. “No fair distracting people when they’re driving.” He felt his skin heating with incipient arousal, and glancing over at Darius he saw his lover was smiling around the beginnings of a hardon. Evan stared at the protruding glans with fascination, boldly adjusting his own substantial bulge as he did so. Enrique was looking around at the interior of the cabin with mistrust, though the tent in his cargo pants revealed he was already rock hard.

Dante caught Dmitry’s ice-blue gaze and saw the mischievous intent there. Seth looked no more penitent. “Fuckers,” Dante laughed. He glanced around the group. “You guys want to eat first?” he asked, adding with a shrug, “We got all weekend.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starved,” Seth said. He and Dmitry found the coolers and bags of groceries and shifted them into the kitchen.

Dante noticed that Darius was watching him with a single eyebrow raised. He was now fully hard, as they all were, even newbie Evan, and several inches of fat, steel-hard shaft were pushing past his lips. Not exactly ideal for ham and eggs, he thought wryly. His footlong downstairs cock was just as spectacularly obvious, making an upward-reaching bulge in his pants that continued under his shirt.

Dante smirked and raised a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, looking around. On their earlier trip he had spotted something—ah, there it was. While Seth and Dmitry clanged pots and pans in the open kitchen and traded teasing remarks, Dante trotted across the living room and retrieved a shallow, glazed terracotta bowl he’d randomly spotted before, nestling half-hidden on a lower shelf behind the potted fig trees. The reddish exterior surface was decorated with dozens of detached pricks of all shapes, sizes, and states of arousal, which was what had made him think of the dish. The interior surface was a curved expanse of smooth, glossy black, immaculate and uncracked despite the kylix’s obvious immense age. As he rested it in his hands it felt warm, and he almost fancied he felt a slight buzz to it, like it was saturated with the energies of arousal and pleasure, just like everything else here.

He brought the bowl back to the seating area in the living room and set it on the coffee table, and the other three drifted over. “Seth and Dmitry, you guys too,” he called.

Seth appeared, followed by his blond compatriot. “Better be quick, the pancakes are cooking,” Seth said.

Dante gestured at the cock-decorated bowl they were all now standing around. “Let’s start fresh,” he told them. “Everyone’s junk in the bowl. You too, Dmitry,” he added, raising a preemptive finger at the tall, grumpy hunk.

Dmitry looked like he had, in fact, been about to say “no.” Not for no reason: he had very obviously preferred Dante’s wide, stubby uncut five-inch torpedo to his own 12-inch monstrosity. Dante held his gaze, and after a moment Dmitry gave a curt “Fine” and turned to Seth. “You do it. I don’t trust him not to bruise it.”

Seth huffed a laugh. “His own cock?” he said, but they dutifully began undoing each other’s flies.

Dante turned to Darius with deep affection and bottomless lust, which he saw mirrored in his old friend’s warm brown eyes. “Shall I?” Dante asked. Evan and Enrique were watching raptly. They were like audience members giving all their attention to a magician’s illusion, but for different reasons—one wanted to enjoy it and the other was trying to spot the trick.

Darius nodded, eyes dancing. Dante grabbed the steel-hard prick protruding from Darius’s sweet lips and, with a now familiar gesture, twisted slightly counterclockwise and yanked. Seth’s ruddy, ten-inch pole came out easily, just as though Darius had been sucking on the base like a lollipop. From behind him he heard Seth give a soft moan—even as Dante himself felt hands around his own cock, then a tug of separation as his hard tool was detached from Dmitry’s groin.

Not wanting to push things toward sex just yet he set Seth’s red-tinged cock in the bowl, followed quickly by his own blunt tool. Darius’s larger, sepia-brown one, which Seth had been carrying, was dropped in next to it. “This feels weird,” Dmitry said, rubbing his cockless crotch through his jeans as he and Seth hurried back to salvage the pancakes.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise,” Dante called as he unzipped Darius’s pants and grasped Dmitry’s enormous, footlong battering ram.

“He didn’t say it felt bad,” Seth called back, laughing.

Dante snorted and finished removing Dmitry’s power tool, setting it in the bowl. “You good?” he asked Darius.

Darius worked his jaw back and forth and grinned. “So good,” he said. “Though… I already miss it,” he admitted.

Dante gave his lover’s mouth a heated look. “Me too,” he said, his voice sounding husky in his ears. He turned briskly to his brother, reaching for his pants in a way he knew would provoke a reaction. “Your turn!” he chirped.

Enrique stepped back, alarmed. “No way!” Evan looked between them, looking like he wanted a bag of popcorn.

Dante put his fists on his hips in a very camp pose. “Now, little brother,” he said. “Either you’re a part of this, or you can toddle on back to the city and forget all about it.”

Evan immediately began bustling at his own waistband. Enrique turned on him in irritation. “I’ll do it,” he barked. They moved to face each other, and Enrique carefully undid the fly of Evan’s jeans. Evan, more tentatively, did the same. Dante watched them, wondering how far the connection between them had gotten before today. Were they friends with a mutual crush, or had they fumbled around on study dates? Felt each other up at the malt shop? He snorted inwardly. Either way, the escalated levels of arousal everyone seemed to experience up here would certainly mark a new chapter between them from this point forward.

Comically, they both turned at exactly the same time to look at Dante for instructions. He kept back his smile and said, “Twist left, then pull gently. Easy peasy.”

Doubtfully they did as they were told. Enrique grunted at the feel of Evan’s warm grasp, and Evan made a brief keening sound in the back of his throat that made Dante very curious to discover what other kinds of noises he made while he was getting off.

Then, they were staring in almost reverent astonishment as they held up each other’s flexing, leaking, incredibly hard erections. “Holy shit!” Enrique cursed, staring at his own hard prick in Evan’s tanned fingers. Evan, for his part, seemed to be at a loss for words.

Dante cleared his throat, and they seemed to recollect themselves. Quickly, they turned to place them gently in what was now a pile of throbbing, happy erections. Dante shivered as he felt his own prick being buried under the weight of Enrique’s and Evan’s tools. Enrique’s boner, as expected, was almost exactly like his own but an inch or so longer. Evan’s 9-incher, paler but veiny enough it almost had a lavender cast to the hard flesh, was most notable in the twenty-degree kink halfway up, making it look not unlike a boomerang. Evan caught him looking and smiled sheepishly, as though he were thinking, Yeah, I wonder what it would feel like up my ass, too.

Dante was thinking Evan might just get a unique opportunity to find out when his stomach growled. “Soup’s on!” Seth yelled. Dante led them back to the dining area, and they all sat down to eat. The increased arousal endemic to the cabin’s atmosphere seemed to have made them extra ravenous, too, and they fell in on Seth and Dmitry’s eggs, pancakes, and bacon with abandon.

For a while they just ate, but it wasn’t long before Evan started asking a string of eager questions. Did Dmitry really prefer having a stubby cock? The surly programmer’s icy blue glare somehow communicated that he had, very much, but he did not elaborate.

What was it like having a mouthcock? Darius was more forthcoming on this point, with lots of anecdotes (his relating the accidental discovery that spicy curry felt so good on his sensitive flaccid mouthcock it was like cumming while he was soft got them all laughing), though the bottom line seemed to be that he’d have to experience it for himself to really know.

Were there any side effects? Seth talked about the overlapping orgasms having different “flavors” because they came from different people; no one mentioned the most obvious impact, that they were hornier all the time and felt sexier, too. Dante had been afraid to check the mirror and find out whether his self-perception as more defined and more attractive was anything real (the cabin effect was insatiable and wanted him to have more sex?) or if it was all in his head. Darius sure looked buffer and harder, but he’d been working out like a fiend ever since the first visit. He said he wanted to look good for Dante, which had made Dante blush and spew precum at the same time.

“This is so amazing,” Evan gushed. Enrique had been watching him silently, and Dante guessed he was slightly unnerved by Evan’s quizzing of the group and how the questions jibed with ones he’d been more reluctant to ask. “I love it,” the newbie went on excitedly. “I love it! I can feel my dick throbbing in that bowl, nestling against everyone else’s. It’s like—it’s like—” Before he could say what it was like, something else seemed to break into his train of consciousness. “Hey! I just realized. Is it only dicks? Have you guys tried pulling off anything else?” He looked around expectantly.

Darius lifted his brows, halting a forkful of short stack. “Like what?”

Evan shrugged expressively. “I dunno. Arms? Heads?”

There was a moment’s silence as the other men all stared at him, dumbfounded. “You want me to twist off your head?” Dmitry asked silkily, after a beat. “I can do that for you, if you like.”

Evan obviously didn’t buy Dmitry’s tough-guy alpha act and grinned instead. “Okay!”

Dmitry smiled wider, like a puma spotting a tasty-looking hunter. “Deal.”

Dante chuckled and rose from the table, drifting toward the living room. The others continued eating. Evan kept asking yet more questions, and the others related their own experiences over the very eventful last two weeks. Dante, meanwhile, felt an unsettling need to check on the shallow ancient kylix full of thrumming, aroused cocks setting pertly on the low coffee table. Something had felt… odd as he ate, nudging at the back of his brain, and now he could see why.

“Guys,” he called sharply, and the others must have heard the edge of alarm in his voice because they all immediately looked over with concern.

“What’s up, babe?” Darius said. The look on his excessively pretty face suggested he already had an inkling of what was off. Maybe he’d been feeling it like Dante had, without quite making sense of what the sensations meant.

Dante looked back at his friends. “Guys,” he announced, “there’s more than six cocks in here.” He smiled nervously. “They’re… multiplying.”

Dante scanned the faces at the table gaping back at him. Darius, his thick-muscled pretty-boy lover, looked calm and alert, ready to face whatever came next. Dante knew that he could count on Darius no matter what, but his solid, dependable boyfriend wasn’t one to take the lead.

Seth, their lanky, redheaded nurse friend, seemed both shocked and intrigued by the new development, like an explorer in an ancient temple unearthing a gateway not marked on any plans. Going by the light in his eyes, Dante guessed he was already mapping out possibilities as he waited for more info. Next to him was Dmitry, his bristly, blond, steel-physiqued lover—or, well, co-participant in angry, extra-satisfying sex, anyway. Dante wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with them. “Grunk,” as he was sometimes known (short for “grumpy hunk”), was staring daggers at Dante, like all of this was Dante’s fault. Fortunately, Dante already knew that Dmitry’s offensive demeanor was largely a defensive wall and wasn’t to be taken personally.

On the other end of the dining room table were the two newcomers. Enrique, his kind of intense brother, looked wary and resentful, like he’d been dragged into this instead of showing up that morning and demanding to be included, plus one and everything. Said add-on, Enrique’s tall, lean, cover-boy buddy and possible FWB from his civil engineering program, was presently sporting a wide-eyed, lopsided grin like he might just be getting a puppy for Christmas. Evan was the only member of the group Dante hadn’t known for years, and he didn’t enjoy having to rely on Enrique’s trust in him in lieu of the kind of direct, experience-driven understanding he had with the others.

Interestingly, for all the diversity in their reactions and core personalities, the five of them all had one thing in common: all of the others were rooted in their chairs, silently leery of joining Dante at the threshold of this new, inexplicable hoodoo of the phallic variety. All of them were aware that they didn’t really know what was going on here, or whether it was one thing or multiple phenomena overlapping, or if there were unforeseen consequences of their seemingly innocent play.

Was the heightened arousal permeating this place part of the same magic that allowed them, here and only here, to twist their hard, throbbing cocks free from their bodies? Was the alarming and unanticipated multiplication of those big, hard erections in the mysterious, shallow red-figure kylix bowl that Dante had just announced to them connected, or separate?

And then there was this to worry about: given that each step along the way was a little stranger, did that mean that all of this was building toward something they might find a little too weird?

Dante knew that his tio had spent decades stashing his strange, out-of-the-way mountain cabin’s every nook and crevice with arcane occult objects from a wide range of eras and cultures… so on that basis, it was probably more likely that each phenomenon they’d experienced, and whatever was to come, was the product of a different talisman with its own specific strictures and enchantments. Even then, though, it might not be that singular in practice. What was to say that the magic of various like artifacts, stored together in the same place with overlapping fields of potency, might not diffuse their powers into a miasma of combined, unified effects?

Dante had no idea about any of that, and he suspected from the hodgepodge of random junk he’d collected that his tio hadn’t exactly been comprehensively trained in this stuff, either.

What Dante worried about most was intent. Was this just happening to them, like the wind, or was it being done to them by something more or less consciously aware of them? Was that will animate or inanimate? To Dante there was a key difference between a sexytimes funplace that happened to provide a wacky suspension of the rules for a weekend, and a house with a cock fetish that wanted you to fuck around in it.

“What do you mean, exactly?” demanded Dmitry finally. Though the blond was raised in the U.S. and had no accent at all, whenever he got flinty Dante swore he could hear the faint, clipped edge of his Muscovite forebears.

Dante held the man’s icy blue gaze. “Just what I said. There’s a pile o’ cocks here, and it’s more than six.”

“How many more?” Darius asked.

Dante glanced down at the kylix, feeling another rush of jagged arousal at the sight. The cocks were beautiful and extremely hard, reflecting the concentrated, relentless horniness they were all trying to ignore. He could feel his extra-wide, flat-headed five-inch cannon buried in that dogpile, getting off on the snuggle of so many heat-throwing boners pressing in around it; but he could also kind of feel the others, the connectedness they had experienced starting with the original swap still lingering after their collective divestment. The general sense of collective pleasure made it difficult to sort out what exactly was going on in there.

He frowned. Was the pile a bit bigger than it had been a few moments before? Not sure. He looked back at the others. The impulse to stroke his own smooth crotch was strong, but he held it back. “It’s hard to tell,” he admitted. “It looks like double right now, maybe more. I think it might be slowly adding to the pile, one at a time.”

“Are they our cocks?” Enrique asked uncertainly, his lip curled slightly. “Or—”

“—someone else’s?” Evan finished, his dimpled grin widening with excitement. He turned to the others excitedly. “Like, other people’s cocks? Big cocks, famous cocks? All the cocks this house has known?” He looked around the cabin, taking in the walls and rafters like it was the most special place he’d ever imagined.

Dante stared at Evan in disbelief, wondering if he was always like this or if this trip with Enrique had unlocked something in him. Darius was smiling in quiet amusement. Seth was eyeing him incredulously. Even Enrique was rolling his eyes in scorn at his own secret BF—but then, his truculent, bristly brother wasn’t the kind to gaze upon a lover’s foibles with doe-eyed adoration.

“Are they ours?” Seth repeated, maintaining his focus better than the others. “Copies, I mean? Duplicates?” He seemed intrigued by the idea, while Dmitry, next to him, looked revolted.

Dante glanced down again, eyeing the contents of the wide, shallow bowl thoughtfully. “Yes, and no,” he said. As he watched, a new version of Evan’s distinctively bent cock formed on the top of the pile and tried to roll off, except the boomerang kink made rolling impossible and it just sort of slid awkwardly to the side of the bowl. Oddly, Dante found himself slightly disappointed that the new cocks didn’t form from the bottom, pushing the pile upwards.

He looked up, considering the others in turn as he spoke. “It looks like it’s all our cocks,” he reported, “but different sizes.”

That raised some eyebrows. “Go on,” Seth said after a beat.

Dante shrugged. “Different sizes,” he repeated. “Some are larger,” he added (that new Evan-cock had been at least 13 inches and visibly girthier), “and some—” He fixated on Dmitry, watching for his reaction. “—are smaller.”

Dmitry’s eyes narrowed, which told Dante everything he wanted to know. Dmitry had liked having a fat 5-inch cock far more than the mammoth 12-incher he’d been hauling around before. He was also acutely embarrassed by this truth and hated the fact that anyone paying attention, like Dante, would have easily picked up on it and known that Dmitry would be deeply, humiliatingly into the idea of a much smaller version of his own hard prick.

Evan was vibrating in his seat, but as the newbie he was reluctant to make the first move. Fortunately for him, Seth broke down quickly and said, “Okay, I have to see this,” and when he got up and moved to join Dante at the small, low coffee table, the others followed quickly, abandoning the much-vaunted pancakes and the rest of the spread.

Now that they were all gathered, shoulder to shoulder, the heightened lust of the place seemed to intensify. Dante grabbed Darius’s strong, reassuring hand and laced their fingers together, as much to keep himself from groping his lover’s fine, tight ass as anything. Seth and Dmitry overlapped their shoulders as they stooped to gape at the thrumming, precum-damp pile of extremely hard cocks, allowing Dmitry to surreptitiously wrap a hand around his lankier lover’s waist. The air between Enrique and Evan seemed to vibrate with a need to touch, but a bare inch remained between them.

“What is the deal with this thing?” Enrique asked. “Did, like, some ancient Greek sorcerer decide he needed a bowl of living dildos for a sex party or something?”

Darius huffed a laugh. Enrique’s question brought Dante back to whether the detachable dick thing was a separate phenomenon from the dick duping thing. If it was, then the kylix wasn’t just for cocks. But then, did that mean the phallic decoration on the side was a coincidence?

No, he was missing something here.

Seth seemed to be thinking along similar lines. “I wonder if it would duplicate other stuff,” he mused.

“Like what?” Dante asked.

Seth shrugged. “Money?”

“Different-sized money?” Darius requestioned. Dante nodded.

“Okay, gold, then,” Seth said.

“Fine, we try gold after we get off,” Dmitry gritted out. They were all seriously turned on. It had been mounting over the past few minutes, too, getting stronger and stronger. Dmitry’s ability to work around their intense arousal, however, seemed flimsier than the others’.

“So what do we do?” Enrique demanded after a moment, an edge of plaintiveness to his voice. Dante could relate. This was a weird situation, but the bottom line was he was surrounded by hot super-horny guys, his hard-on was snuggling deep in a pile of hard-ons, and he had to cum—soon.

A tense silence followed. Dante tsked. The others might have finally moved from the table, but all of them were still hanging back. Darius squeezed his hand, ready and supportive.

Dante realized he was almost reeling with arousal. His original cock was at the bottom of that pile and he needed to blow spunk through it in the worst way, either from his own crotch or someone else’s. “Just—take one and give it to someone else,” he said harshly, looking around at his friends in slight exasperation. “That’s kind of what we did before, right? You can keep it, or pass it on.”

“We should be drunk for this,” Evan suggested abruptly.

“Absolutely not,” Dmitry and Dante said in unison. The two each glanced at the other in annoyance.

“Everybody strip,” Seth said. “Pants off, shirts off, everything off.”

They were too horny to be self-conscious, and every inch of sculpted flesh revealed made their desperation worse.

Darius and Dmitry were both impressively muscular in different ways, Darius shorter, darker, and kind of bulky-sleek from his years of wrestling and careful weight training, Dmitry looking more like an idealized human construct whose every hour beating himself up at the gym only resulted in his form becoming more and more perfect. Seth was more the lanky type, not really working out his pale, defined form but still well-proportioned and very sexy. Dante and Enrique were both not-too-tall, attractive, and naturally tight—Dante could see a soft six-pack on his brother’s trim form despite Enrique never having done a sit-up in his life that he knew of. Evan, the newcomer, was tall and ripped, like a professional athlete who modeled on the side, his body geared toward inviting the hand and mouth to explore region by region.

Dante knew these bodies, apart from Evan’s, and seeing them now, at the height of this active, urgent, collectively shared lust, he was now absolutely certain that the five bodies he knew, his own included, looked hotter and harder and a notch buffer than they had been before that first weekend. Even the peculiarity of cockless groins with only various amounts of public hair and taut, hefty scrotums ranging from decent-sized to impressive, added to the unnatural mystique and the sense of their bodies being altered and reshaped by forces they didn’t understand.

The thought made him groan, and when his cock flexed in the wide bowl, making the pile shift with its movement, the others followed suit. He moved against Darius to his left, regripping his hand, and the others drew closer, too.

Just then another dick formed on top of the pile—a four-inch version of Darius’s brown, uncut cock. Dmitry whimpered almost inaudibly at the overwhelming sensations as another wave of lust tore through the whole group, obliterating any other thought.

Enrique was staring at the throbbing pile like they all were. “Fuck, what if we just came like this?” he said, sounding dazed with need.

Seth shook his head. “I want to stroke,” he said adamantly, his voice strained and thready. “And suck. And—”

“Okay, I’m fucking starting this,” Dante said. Closing his eyes, he reached down and tried to grab a cock at random. By chance his hand immediately found the extra-large Evan-cock he’d seen form and he grasped it firmly, Opening his eyes, he turned to Darius and pushed the massive, intriguingly bent erection against his lover’s crotch.

Evan moaned. “I feel that,” he said, sounding so saturated with burning lust he could have passed for intoxicated after all. “Holy frijole!”

They might have all grabbed for the pot, then now that the social strictures were broken. To prevent a scrum, Darius deliberately turned to his right and said, “Kiko, go.” Enrique closed his eyes, snatched up the first big, dripping, red-flushed boner he could from the top of the pile and, to Dante’s surprise, instantly pushed it into his brother’s crotch instead of his sex-friend Evan’s. Dante gaped down at it. Concidentally or by design It was a 14-inch version of Enrique’s own flat, extra-wide 6-incher. Belatedly he realized that Enrique was just following Dante’s precedent and phallifying the groin to his left (like Dante had) instead of his boyfriend (as Dante also had).

“Kiko, you don’t—” he started, too late, but Enrique had already glanced up at a grinning Evan, who closed his eyes, reached into the pile, and subsequently jammed a 5-inch mini-Dmitry cock into Enrique’s cockless pubic hair.

Dmitry whimpered again, though whether this was from the sharp, extremely pleasant sensation of being connected, or from not having gotten the small dick he not-so-secretly craved, Dante wasn’t sure. Evan must have picked up on Dmitry’s hints before, too. In any event, he seemed to guess the latter, tossing Dmitry a smirk. “Don’t worry, champ,” he snarked, “there’s more where that little guy came from.” Dmitry spared him a look that, if he were one of the X-Men, might have torn Evan to pieces.

The first three goes set the rules, regardless of Dante’s intent. The pace proceeded rapidly from there around the circle, each man picking the first hot, heavy boner that came to hand and pressing it into the hottie to their left, leading to mutual groans and grunts of excitement. Seth ended up giving Evan a normal-sized version of his own very straight ten-incher. Dmitry’s spasmodic grab yielded Dante’s wide 5-incher blown up to twice that size, and when he felt the punch of pleasure that came from joining with Seth’s crotch—it seemed stronger now than last time, like everything had been upped a notch—he very nearly couldn’t keep himself from cumming. Darius, laconic but observant, broke the rules and kept one eye open, quickly choosing the first four-incher he found, which happened to be another version of Darius’s own. Dmitry shuddered with unconcealed bliss, though his face remained dark and stoic.

Darius turned and looked at Dante, one eyebrow raised. “Another round?” he asked.

“Hurry up,” Seth whined, though Dante thought he wasn’t so much objecting to a second pass around the circle as urging them to get on with it as quickly as possible.

Dante was ready to cum, but his mind was full of cock. Well, and Darius’s hot wrestler bod and sweet, brain-melting smile, but mostly cock. Impulsively, he closed his eyes, reached into the kylix, and serendipitously pulled out another copy of his own wide, flat cock, this time at its original 5-inch dimensions. Grinning, he started to push it into Darius’s crotch next to the Evan-cock that was already there, then froze with the tingling base a mere inch from the ready skin. Darius had already proved himself open to nontraditional placement, and it occurred to him with a flash of lust that his brawny boytoy loved nipple play.

He glanced up, flicking his eyes first to Darius’s brown, erect nips, then meeting his amused gaze.

“Crotch for now,” Darius said with a lascivious smile. “We can experiment later.”

“Come on,” Seth urged. Dante, still grinning, pushed the cock in and moaned in concert with Darius as it connected.

Straightening, he was surprised by Enrique, who already had a cock in hand and was shoving it into Darius’s groin before he was even ready. This time it was a ten-inch version of Enrique’s 6-incher, to go with the 14-inch version he already had. Dante gaped at his brother with incredulity mixed with a level of intense passion dramatically heightened from a mere moment before. He hadn’t anticipated this, but joining with two cocks clearly meant a multiplied layer of sensation and an even higher libido. Fuck, he thought, almost giggling, they were in trouble now.

Enrique’s look was oddly defiant, but then Evan pushed a 10-inch Seth-cock into his groin (were Seth’s cocks all duping at the original size for some reason?) and Enrique’s eyes practically rolled back in his skull in reaction as Enrique experienced the same escalated pleasure Dante had.

In rapid succession, the rest of the circle was supplied with a second prick like a Grand Prix pit crew in action. Evan got a 16-inch Dmitry, Seth an 8-inch Enrique (weird that Seth’s two cocks turned out to be brothers), and Dmitry got a 3-and-a-half-inch Evan, complete with mini-kink to the left. They were all panting and riding the edge of a massive orgasm—or rather, each of them would be feeling a combined six-fold orgasm, their pleasures merging together. Or would it be twelve-fold now that they were joined twice over? Dante couldn’t even think.

There were still cocks in the bowl, but no one would last through round three. “Circle-jerk, now!” Seth shouted over the hurricane sweeping through them. With the giddiness of extreme arousal, Dante stared at the bowl and thought, Cool, the rest can be a la carte.

Darius and Enrique reached at the same time for Dante’s mismatched Enrique-cocks, both grabbing them as an already pre-slicked double-dick unit rather than taking one each or something like that. Thus inspired, Dante did likewise, gripping onto Enrique’s fat, steel-hard mini-Dmitry and equally-rigid Seth-boner in one hand and Darius’s standard-issue Evan-cock and Dante-cock in his other. The others followed suit, the grip of hands and the slick of precum crackling through them like ecstatic lightning. They started jerking each other, strong arms overlapping, one set of fists against the other.

It wasn’t long. The heat of the room ramped up, their pulses pounding in their ears. Some of them were shouting. “Fuck, oh fuck!” Evan yelled. Dmitry’s pleasure came out an inarticulate roar.

Before they knew it they were blasting cum, spurting all over the coffee table, the kylix, and each other. All of them were shouting and screaming now, mindless with unbearable, multiplied euphoria. Dante’s mind and perceptions drowned in white as his sensory apparatus overloaded and snapped.

It was long moments of floating, bodiless bliss before any of them gained any kind of awareness.

Dante looked around the group. They were all still gripping each other, all still rigidly hard. Each of their cum-spattered bodies had been upgraded a notch just since before the orgasm, making every one of them hotter, harder, more irresistible, like whatever magic was driving this wanted to ensure as much sex as possible.

Most of them looked blissed out and more or less insensate, but Dante saw that Enrique and Seth, slightly more focused than the others, were alert and staring at the kylix in what looked like actual horror. Bemused and woozy, still holding Enrique’s and Darius’s pricks, Dante looked down at the shallow bowl and gaped.

The kylix was stacked hard, needy cocks swimming in cum, but the shocker was not that the bowl was full of dicks again. Before, the appearances had been happening slowly, every—five minutes, maybe?

Now it was down to five seconds. As they stared at the bowl, cocks kept forming—their own cocks, the same six models in various sizes, emerging from some unknown dimension one after another, pop… pop… pop, proliferating out of control like the mops in The Sorceror’s Apprentice. One 15-inch Dante-cock formed on the top of the pile and rolled off, but there was nowhere in the kylix to go and it thumped onto the table with a splat of cum, sending a reverberation of remote pleasure through Dante’s slightly more chiseled body.

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing like a drunk. The others looked at him with various flavors of surprise or alarm.

He giggled at them. “We shouldn’t’a cum in the kylix,” he singsonged.

A second, aftershock-style orgasm rose unstoppably in them, and Dante groaned through his manic laughter. Fucked. They were so, so fucked.

Things might have devolved into a house full of cock—maybe even an avalanche of cock pouring down the forest slopes into the unsuspecting towns below (Cockmageddon, the first pitch for Asylum XXX)—had Seth not thrown aside the hyperorgasmic stupor enthralling all six of the hot, horny, over-phallicized boys and snatched up the shallow kylix in one swift move and made a dash for the kitchen, big, hot cocks dropping to the floor behind him like a breadcrumb trail through the labyrinth, only with hard, sputtering, very alive boners burning with heat and need. Making a beeline for the stainless steel sink he’d been cleaning up his pancake-cooking gear in hardly a half-hour earlier, Seth dumped out the cocks in the big oblong basin and turned on the water full blast, dousing the dish and the variously sized boners in (as it turned out) scalding hot water.

Dante, who’d been watching all of this from behind a wall of warm, stupefied bliss, cried out in shock. “What the fuck!” he shouted, his redlining arousal dropping off a cliff from the sudden, intense discomfort. The others were similarly jarred from their insular states of woozy ultrabliss, raining down curses and depreciations and variously impugning Seth’s ancestry in colorful and imaginative ways.

“Sorry not sorry,” Seth called, eyes on his work. Though he kept up his rinsing of the kylix as thoroughly as he could, Seth did fiddle one-handed with the faucets, switching over the water from a steaming hot that could have insta-cooked pasta to a bitter cold so low on the thermometer, any further down and he could have been dispensing slushies.

“Hey! Fuck you!” Dante bellowed, feeling all the cold even worse than he had the near-boiling hot. Those were his dicks in there—a good 17 percent of them, anyway—and he didn’t appreciate the extreme Heat Miser/Snow Miser treatment on all of his sensitive, crazy-multiplied phallic flesh one bit. Breaking free of the ring where they’d been standing like a game character released from a hold spell by the death of the casting wizard, he stormed into the kitchen to have it out with the pale, nicely gluted redhead standing naked at the sink, the others close behind.

Seth had pulled out the sink’s sprayer attachment and was thoroughly pummeling the kylix with it. He’d just set it aside and gotten to work on the pile of now-flaccid, multitoned and multisized cockflesh filling the sink when Dante reached him. He grabbed Seth’s shoulder, which unfortunately made him jerk the sprayer upward—directly into Dante’s face.

“What the fuck, man?” Dante sputtered, wiping his face impatiently with his hand and glaring at Seth. “What the fucking fuck?”

Seth held his gaze for a second, giving him a defiant half-smirk. “You’re welcome,” he said pointedly, before returning to his work rinsing the pile of soft cockflesh.

Darius appeared at Dante’s side, nudging his shoulder with his own. Dante noticed with chagrin that Darius had had the presence of mind to gather up off the floor the cocks that had dropped off the side of the kylix during Seth’s mad dash to the kitchen. Dante was supposed to be the leader here—he felt the responsibility of leadership, anyway, it being his cabin and the events all following from his choice to bring his friends here—and his hotheaded reaction was not what they needed. He needed to learn steadiness and stoicism from his big-shouldered lover, and fast. Seth took the cocks from Darius with a smile and a “thanks” and started rinsing them off with the others, while Dante pressed his lips together in self-recrimination.

“Hey,” Darius said, butting their shoulders lightly again, and Dante looked up. Darius’s smile seemed to say, You want steadiness? Take some of mine. I got plenty.

Dante’s heart squeezed. Fuck, I love you, he thought. Darius’s smile widened just a little, making his dimple show, and Dante felt his tension ease, enough for him not to feel quite so guilty over it.

Dmitry loomed over Seth’s other shoulder, his eyes full of dark concern as he gazed down at the mass of living, warm cocks sinuously piled in the big, steel sink. “Did that stop it?” he asked. “The propagation?”

They all drew a breath, watching the pile for any sign of increasing mass pushing up from below. Seth eyed the shallow antique vessel he’d set aside on the counter, dappled with water but thankfully devoid of both cum and cocks, apart from the ones painted cheekily on its side. Dante frowned at it, following Seth’s gaze. However old it was, the trouble-making dish looked fresh from the glazer and ready for mischief. There wasn’t even a crack in it, which didn’t seem possible for a finely crafted relic ancient enough to have had the dicks of Cylon of Athens, Ajax the handsome, and all the hunks of Sparta piled in there in ages past.

“Yes,” Seth said definitively. “Which just leaves us with this lot to figure out.” He ran a hand over the heavy, thick phalluses in the basin, causing a ripple of sensate pleasure in Dante’s cocks. Not the ones on his body, both of which were oversized versions of his brother’s substantial dick. His dicks were distributed elsewhere: an extra-large one hung from Seth’s crotch, a regular-sized version in his lover’s well-trimmed groin, and more were in the sink—a lot more. How many? A dozen? Criminy.

At Seth’s touch his cocks flexed and twitched, but so did the others’, in the writhing heap and on each others’ bodies. The huge Enrique-cocks currently plugged into his physique jerked against his thighs, swelling slightly as they waited alertly for further stimulation, and Dante could feel their pleasure and interest almost as well as his own. In fact he could feel all the cocks, though most of them at a comparative remove. The sharing of sensation was stronger than ever. Their next orgasm would be so stacked up and multiplied it might just melt their brains to goo.

“Let’s try to avoid getting everyone riled up again,” he cautioned Seth. To his amazement the words came out sounding gentle and calm, though the result felt more like a fluke of his kaleidoscoping emotions than any bout of maturity. Seth nodded in agreement, not looking up.

“What a disaster,” Dmitry said, lifting his doleful gaze to glare at Dante.

Evan was incredulous. “Are you joking?” he asked the hard-bodied Russian sorehead, genuinely baffled.

Dante stepped away from the sink and dropped bare-assed into the nearest dining room chair, his brother’s upsized cocks feeling heavy in his groin as they draped across his significantly enlarged balls. Enrique pulled out the chair next to his and sat in it, folding his arms over his chest and giving Dante a hostile look. Seth stayed at his station, gingerly sorting the cocks by the original owner onto a towel laid across the counter next to the sink, Darius silently helping him. Dmitry and Even stood back watching, their expressions comically complementary, like the tragicomedy masks equally beloved by ancient Greeks and modern community theater. Dante let out a long breath and tried to ignore the brushes of his friends’ fingers as they found and handled his various cocks, laying them out and gently stacking them on the soft terrycloth like a haul of different-sized eels from the harbor trawler.

“Let me see if I understand what’s going on,” Enrique said. “This dish thing, the thing that Xeroxed our dicks. Is that the thing that made it so we could… so we could snap them off in the first place?”

Dante shook his head. He was certain of that. The kylix was capable of multiplying things, apparently randomly resizing them as it did so, but he was sure that when it came to cocks (or other body parts) it relied on there being a preexisting ability to detach whatever was put in the dish.

Enrique was not pleased. “So, the detachment thing comes from a different relic. Any idea which one?”

Dante quailed a little at the question. The place was so full of strange objects he could for real open his own “knicknacks and possible talismans” store down in the village. The whole place had a vibe—hell, it could still be the cabin itself that got them all horny and willing to pull each other off, literally and figuratively. His cousin Santino had specifically collected magical objects, though. He spent his life doing it, and it was the house and its contents that he had bequeathed to Dante before buggering off into whatever cum-filled Valhalla he and his inseparable group of friends had vanished into without a trace. He glanced up at the squat bronze totem of a monkey god on the mantel, the one brazenly stroking his arm-sized, very erect dick, but as erotic idols went it was maybe a little too on the nose. He shook his head again. “Nope.”

“Great,” Enrique groused. “And from what you said, this place could be stuffed with magical doodads, any one of which might give us horns or turn us into centaurs or god knows what.”

Dante glanced sidelong at his brother, slightly amused. “You want to be centaur, Kiko?” he teased.

Enrique’s eyes blazed. “Will you—?!”

“It’s not everything,” Dante broke in. “I felt a quiver of something as I touched the kylix, like I was sensing the magic in it.”

“And so naturally you put our dicks in it.”

“I didn’t—!” Dante stopped himself from blowing up. Calm, he told himself. Calm and steady, like Darius. He tried again, keeping his tone even. “I didn’t know what I was feeling. Now I do. I think we can recognize which relics are magical from that shiver of sensation, and if we work carefully we might be able to figure out which—”

“No way!” Evan said. Dante looked up to see the tall, lean hottie was watching them, his bright green eyes alight with excitement. “Let’s go find them!” he said. He looked around at the others, all of them staring at him like he’d suggested doing a play in Esperanto. “Dibs on the bedrooms!” he said suddenly. Then, incredibly, he was gone, heading into the back of the living room and vanishing up the stairs that led to the second level.

Before Dante could even react Dmitry was following him, hot on the man’s heels. “No you don’t, little mongoose!” he said, pounding up the steps after him. “If you cause more trouble I will personally drown you in a sack and sell what’s left of you to lionkeepers!” Then he, too, was gone, leaving Dante to trade astonished looks with the others. Seth seemed wryly amused; Darius too, though there was a line of concern between his brows. Enrique had the defiant look of someone who knew he was responsible for bringing a Tasmanian devil with him and refused to admit it.

Seth turned to Darius. “We should help,” he said mildly.

Darius nodded. “Basement?” he suggested.

“Sounds good.” The two of them wiped their hands on a spare dishtowel and trouped out of the kitchen, headed for the narrow stairs down to the finished basement under the cabin. As he passed, Darius tossed Dante a wink. Dante just stared.

When they were gone, he turned to his brother to find him glowering at him, his arms still crossed over his sculpted chest. “Fuck,” he said, “you.”

Dante felt a crooked smile creep across his lips. He glanced at the fat, extra large Enrique-cocks pulling on his groin muscles, ready to respond to the slightest provocation, then up at his brother. “Give me an excuse, Kiko,” he said easily. “But you know, you’ll only be fucking yourself.”

Enrique gave him the finger, and Dante laughed. Some things didn’t change much, even in a house of magically detaching cocks.

Dmitry stalked deliberately up the stairs as the overeager fool nimbly reached the upper floor landing and dove through the first door he found. Idiot, Dmitry seethed mentally, following through the doorway close on his heels into the small, brightly lit room.

The fool turned on his heels and flinched when he Dmitry standing there, looming menacingly. An inane, temptingly punchable grin instantly spread across his face. “Oops! Bathroom,” Evan said cheerfully. He made to move past Dmitry.

Dmitry did not move.

The fool faced him, standing a little too close and looking up at him with that same idiotic grin. Dmitry was annoyed at having to notice his bright green eyes and full, kissable lips. This fuckass was too much of everything. Too keen, too unpredictable, and too good-looking. It was irritating.

His three friends, that was one thing. These newcomers, intruding into the boundaries of his trust, were almost intolerable. Dmitry wished he weren’t here, that he didn’t have to deal with this. He especially wished this prick, of all pricks, didn’t have one of Dmitry’s overlarge cocks hanging heavily from his groin, ready for whatever fuckery the jerk wanted to get up to with it. That the fool’s thick, twitchy, one-third-scale phallus hung from his own groin, next to the mini version of muscle-boy Darius’s, felt like poor collateral.

His ponderous pecs tightened infinitesimally. He needed to work out. He needed to find a gym and spend a few solid hours sweating and punishing his muscles until everything felt better.

Dmitry was still in the way, blocking the door. The fool was staring up at him, his grin twisting into a wide smirk. “You’re a lanky hunk of blue-eyed granite, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m not used to guys who are taller than me. You must have a couple inches on me, right? What are you, 6-4?”

Dmitry wanted to growl. Those green eyes were distracting him. Dmitry didn’t intend to be intimidating exactly, but his height and size and stillness usually helped people calm down. This guy wasn’t as tall as him, but the difference wasn’t much. Then again, a fool like this one could be five-foot-nothing and still not get the message.

“No, 6-5,” the fool corrected himself thoughtfully, his eyes dancing up to his cropped blond hair (the most hair he had anywhere on his smooth, hard body) and back to Dmitry’s again. “Nice. You must get all the boys. Especially with this thing,” he added, hefting the extra-large version of Dmitry’s cock hanging not-quite-limply from the fool’s groin, next to the comparative modest-looking Seth-phallus.

Dmitry held his breath to suppress a groan. His cock was incredibly sensitive, especially in his usual huge form and particularly especially in the even-larger ultima version the fool was wagging around at him like to pool noodle.

Dmitry took a step closer, sharpening his frowning expression into a full-on glare. Intimidation suddenly wasn’t sounding quite so bad. “Listen, asshole,” he gritted out. “I didn’t ask for you to be here. I didn’t ask for you to be yanking my dick around. And I especially didn’t ask for you to start chasing through the house looking for more magic to fuck everyone around with.”

The fool was unfazed, predictably if annoyingly. His smile grew sultry, and his green eyes were wide as he stared up at Dmitry. “So what did you want to do?” he asked. “Hmm, big guy?”

Dmitry hesitated. The answer was for them to go downstairs, convince Dante to undo the experiment and redistribute everyone’s dicks, and go home, maybe hit the gym for a week. He couldn’t make himself say it. For one thing, it was a relief to be rid of his giant phallus for once—the only saving grace of this sorry, benighted escapade—and taking it back would be a bother. Not that he was truly free of it, exactly, seeing as the fool was at that very moment casually stroking his XXL-sized copy of Dmitry’s massive footlong original, sending spiky shivers chasing up and down Dmitry’s spine and quickening his pulse as the two of them chubbed together.

He could feel the other versions of his dick swelling, too, not just the smaller one Dante’s brother had but all the uncounted, very attentive Dmitry-cocks snuggling in the huge, warm-and-cozy dick-pile in the sink, poised to spring to life at the slightest stimulus. Most of them were at least his original too-big dimensions, and few were considerably bigger, surpassing even the third-again-larger edition the fool was currently toying with in deliberate, maddening provocation. That was the worst part—all of them were still thoroughly plugged into his nervous system and sensory apparatus, especially all the ready-to-go, keenly alert detached ones he wasn’t sharing with anyone else. They wanted to get big and hard, to thrum with heat and sex. He could almost sense them begging for it.

Staring down at this cheeky moron wasn’t helping matters. The fool knows his eyes are pretty, he thought indignantly. He tried glaring harder, but the other man just grinned brightly at him.

“Uh huh,” the fool said, tossing him a wink as he gave his chubbed Dmitry-cock a long, tantalizing stroke. With his free hand he patted Dmitry’s hard, beefy shoulder before sliding past him in search of more rooms to explore, his hairy chest brushing across Dmitry’s thick, sculpted arm.

Left alone in the gleaming, white-tiled bathroom, Dmitry gathered himself, pushing down his rapidly welling arousal. He wanted to stalk down the stairs, to take comfort in his friends and then put on his clothes and go. Maddingly he could not, because doing so would mean abandoning the fool to create infinite mischief on his own in this weird hoarding-place full of who knew what kinds of undiscovered and unwanted magic.

I’d better go after him before the fucker turns us all into goats, he thought grimly, turning on his bare heel and following the troublemaker out into the hallway, his lust-lengthened cocks brushing teasingly against each other as he went.

He found the fool in a small bedroom, with dark-chocolate walls and a bare, unclothed mattress. There were several sturdy bookcases. Some were packed with worn hardbound books (probably spellbooks and demon bibles, he thought grimly), while others were crammed with tchotchkes. The fool had a white marble object in his hand, a long cylinder tapering at one end, like a candle or a rounded-off Washington Monument.

The fool held it up for him with a grin. “Look, this one’s cool!” he said. “And it’s buzzing!”

Dmitry shivered with instant, overwhelming arousal. Something had happened to Evan’s voice. It was lower and smoother and completely irresistible, crawling into Dmitry’s insides and making him reckless. His face, too. Dmitry couldn’t look away. Was he actually handsomer? Were his lips really that much more enticing, his jawline that much more perfect, the mahogany highlights in his lush, dark hair that utterly compelling? Or was it a momentary spell? Something cynical in him suspected it was both, and the fool would have reason to be even cockier from now on.

Evan’s smile grew wicked as Dmitry swept toward him. “What?” he said in that impossible, deeply captivating voice. “You see something you—?”

Dmitry wrenched the marble talisman from Evan’s grip and hurled it aside. It landed on the mattress with a thump, but Dmitry didn’t care about it one way or the other. He was raging hard, both his Darius- and Evan-dicks and all his own dicks, big and small, scattered throughout the house. Including the one right in front of him, the one even bigger than the stupidly huge footlong he’d had a love-hate relationship with since before puberty taught him what it was really for and all the trouble it would get him into. It was so big and long it had slid right between Dmitry’s legs as he approached, waiting for a chance to frot and blow between Dmitry’s god-worthy, gym-sculpted thighs.

Evan was panting, his pupils blown. “Dmi—” he started again, but Dmitry, vibrating with strength and overpowering arousal, grabbed the other man’s shoulders and forced him to his knees.

“Suck—my dicks—now!” Dmitry gritted out angrily, his voice deep and needy.

Evan beamed foolishly up at him. “Yes, sir,” he said in that too-deep, too-sexy voice.

“Hurry,” Dmitry growled.

Evan complied with a will, diving onto Dmitry’s mini cocks and taking both the four-incher (Darius’s) and the three-and-a-half-incher (Evan’s) into his hot mouth at the same time. With an effort of will, Dmitry turned his moan of pleasure into another growl.

Evan got to work, sucking and licking the iron-hard cocks like he was born for this very purpose. Had the artifact ratcheted this skill up, too, escalating his blow-job abilities to irresistible levels along with his voice and beauty? He didn’t want to know the answer. He dreaded the idea that Evan might have magic fellatio skills, but he didn’t want the fuckhead to be naturally gifted in this wonderful, exceedingly necessary skill, either.

The others were getting turned on, too. They were all connected, the rising flood if lust rushing through all six of them. Dmitry couldn’t tell if it was because of the sex bomb that had detonated between him and Evan, or if it was something the others were doing in the course of their own artifact hunts. He couldn’t spare a single brain cell to consider it. His muscles tickled, like something was happening to them, and his balls felt big and burgeoning under his desperate erections. He couldn’t deal with any of that, either.

Just then, Evan reached down and started stroking both of his shared hardons. One was Seth’s ten-incher, and the other… the other was a monster 16-inch version of his own insatiable dick. He felt every stroke, and he felt Evan feeling it too, a reversal of the shared cocksucking pleasure Dmitry’s mini Evan-cock was getting. The effect was like multiplying the heady gratification of every damned stroke. It was all too much.

This time he did moan, low and loud, and Evan hummed smugly as he stepped up his extremely effective cocksucking, stroking all the while. Hot, overpowering orgasm welled up in Dmitry, but he fought it back, not wanting to hand Evan such an easy win. I will not cum this soon, Dmitry told himself with granite will. This orgasm is mine, not his! I will make it last forever if I have to!

Darius and Seth stood together at the foot of the narrow walnut cellar stairs, looking over the space before them. Having grown up in a string of tall old apartment buildings with no tenant sublevel access, Darius’s experience with underground spaces was mostly via the basement tunnels at his high school, lit with bare, buzzing fluorescent tubes where the free-weights gym was, mixed with dark and scary basements full of old suspicious-looking farm implements and shelves of dirty Mason jars bobbing with ancient canned vegetables—images gleaned from a hundred movies and the odd peekabo shadow-figure video.

This place looked ten times more inviting by comparison. Light streaming in from quarter windows spaced around the paneled walls near the ceiling revealed a large, slightly dusty open space with hardwood floors and very little ominous clutter—not a single murder-hoe or pickled pepper in sight. Just an old plaid sofa and a few lamps to one side, some large boxes stacked neatly against one wall alongside a Saw III-style wooden crate, and a couple of large chests of drawers against the far wall with a dozen deep pullouts each, no doubt crammed with artifacts both mysterious and questionable.

The footprint was a little smaller than the main kitchen/living room area upstairs. To Darius this suggested that there might be another, narrower cellar space beyond the further wall, though no door was obvious to provide access. Must be where all the forsaken evil is kept, he thought, amused.

Darius took the space in calmly, as unself-conscious about his casual nudity and phallic multiplication as the taller, practically-minded redhead next to him. He was glad the heat worked so well in the cozy up-mountain cabin, and the very effective weatherstripping kept drafts to a minimum. He hated feeling chilly. Drafts and nipple-hardening cold were just about the only thing that kept him from walking around naked pretty much all the time.

“So, how’s work at the new hospital?” he asked, giving the room another slow pass to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Eh,” Seth said. “Lots of assholes. As usual.”

Darius turned to his friend. “With lightbulbs in ‘em?” he teased.

Seth snorted. His eyes were on the crate, a line between his rusty brows. “I did get one of those once in the E.R.,” he said absently. Glancing at Darius he added, “The twisty kind.”

“Nice,” Darius said. Seth smiled wryly and wandered over to the crate, bending over it without touching it. Darius took this as his cue to head over to the other side of the room and give the chests of drawers a look-see. As he looked over the drawers, likewise holding back from tactile contact for the moment, he let his tongue slide over the upper inside surface of his mouth, enjoying the subtly rougher texture of his tastebuds moving across the smooth silkiness of his soft palate. He missed his mouthcock, he had to admit. Particularly he missed the way it felt just as good inside his mouth, mostly soft and plenty pliable, as it had shoving rudely past his lips, rock-hard and desperate for lots of passionate Dante kiss-fucking. Since getting rid of it, his mouth had felt noticeably empty and forlorn, and he with that was aware of a mild, if hard-to-slake, new addiction to oral sensation and stimulation.

“What do you suppose is in it?” Seth asked, still observing the crate.

Darius glanced over. It was a cube of rough pine wood slats, maybe four feet to a side. The lid looked to be neatly nailed on, so opening it would require an actual crowbar. “Ark of the Covenant?” he guessed, turning back to his examination of the drawers, each of which was a foot deep and a foot and a half wide. He pulled one out at random, liking the trackless sound and feel of wood against wood as it slid outward.

In it was a stack of bulky knit sweaters. Probably not magical, he thought. Though it would be very funny if they were. He closed the drawer.

“Not the right size, I think,” Seth mused without looking up. He hmmed. “It could be dishes for all we know.”

“Or curtains,” Darius said cheekily. He pulled out another drawer at random, deliberately not following any pattern.

“Or a double boiler,” Seth sang in a smooth, pleasant tenor.

Darius grinned over his shoulder at Seth, surprised. Seth smiled up at him sheepishly. “I was in a production of The Music Man in high school,” he said. “That stuff stays in your brain forever.”

“Cool,” Darius said.

“Fuck you,” Seth said amiably, as if Darius had razzed him. “What’s your excuse?”

“I have a slight Julie Andrews fixation,” Darius admitted. “Don’t tell Dante.”

Seth frowned. “Julie Andrews isn’t in The Music Man. Is she?”

“No, but Robert Preston is in Victor/Victoria.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “That almost makes sense,” he said after a beat.

Darius winked as he turned back to the drawer he’d opened. It seemed to be half-full of medium-to-large open-ended wrenches, for some reason. He pushed the heavy drawer closed with a clatter and chose another.

“Uh oh,” he commented, feeling a tingle in the more massive of his two dangling cocks. “Evan’s getting turned on.” Darius could feel the warm lust spreading through himself, too, like a contact high but for arousal.

Seth hmphed. “Both of mine are on simmer,” he observed. “Think there’s a bit of fraternal sexual tension gathering upstairs?”

Darius, whose other cock was one of Dante’s, concurred. “I’d pay to see that,” Darius said distractedly, opening the third drawer and peering within. The only thing in the deep, squarish repository was a large bone carving, maybe the size of his fist, of some shelled sea-creature. The bottom of the drawer had a layer of baby-blue foam padding, presumably to keep the object from bouncing around too much on the drawer’s hard wooden interior surface, but the carving was otherwise loose and unprotected. “Huh.”

“You probably won’t have to,” Seth said, coming over to peer over his brawny shoulder. “What’d you find?”

Darius peered at the object in the drawer, his spidey-sense warning him there was something significant about it. He moved his hand close to the thing, not quite picking it up. Sure enough he felt a low vibration, faint but definite, just like Dante had described feeling from the kylix. He lifted the thing out to show Seth, the soft, gentle buzz filtering down his arm as he held it up.

They looked it over. It was a flat oval in shape, maybe six inches by three and couple inches high, the exterior painted glossy black. It was split around the perimeter and slightly ajar, like a pistachio.

“What is it, a mollusk?” Darius wondered aloud.

“I think it’s a mussel,” Seth said.

Bam. Lightning shot through Darius, electrifying every part of him. Before he could become alarmed, though, the sensation passed, leaving his body feeling effervescent and thrumming intensely with energy and arousal.

Gasping, he looked down at himself in amazement. He’d just added like three months at the gym’s worth of solid, dense muscle. His pecs were thicker, not wildly but visibly; his arms, likewise felt just that noticeable bit heavier and stronger; his abs were a few hundred crunches’ worth tighter and more chiseled. His thighs were obviously slightly firmer, and even his ass felt harder and rounder.

Darius felt a dark rush of excitement at the change. It was more than he usually felt from his actual gains, and some part of him thought his carnal reactions were being augmented along with his size. His two cocks, neither of them his, responded rapidly to the deep rush of pleasure coursing through him, already half-stiffened with major interest.

“Holy—” Seth breathed. Darius looked over, thinking the other man was reacting to Darius’s growth—but the redhead had bulked up, too. His swimmer’s physique had popped, the rounder pecs and squarer shoulders making a big visual difference on his paler, leaner form.

“Dude, look at you. You could do thirst-trap Insta now,” Darius joked.

“Like I couldn’t before,” Seth snarked. He looked down at the swelling, uncut Latin cocks in his groin, then snapped his gaze up to Darius’s, eyes glinting with amusement and interest. “Dude, I think it happened to all of us!”

“No way,” Darius said, though he, too, could feel the excited responses from Evan and Dante flowing from his shared junk and into his sexual chi. He shook his head, less out of denial than shock. “Are you telling me, just from you saying ‘mussel’ we all—?”

Bam! Darius shivered as another wave of muscle growth plowed through him. He stared down at his more massive delts, now even more like striated cannonballs under his brown skin. He was getting seriously jacked. I hope Dante likes ’em big, he thought, a little dazed. His Evan- and Dante-cocks were now fully hard, as were all of his own, both the little one attached to Dmitry and the ones in the big cock-pile in the kitchen.

“Dude!” the now twice-upgraded Seth said in alarm, slapping Darius lightly on his bulky upper arm. “Stop saying ‘mussel’!”

Bam! The growth tore through them a third time, swelling them even more and making their cocks pulse in desperation. In pure stimulus-response mode, Darius flung the artifact back into the padded drawer.

The two of them gaped at it for a second, then at each other, before breaking into fits of laughter.

“Now what?” Darius giggled. They were standing close, looking each other over. Seth was as big now as Darius’s very first “after” photo, nine months into the body-building hobby that had quickly become part of his permanent, lifelong routine.

Seth was eyeing Darius’s extremely jacked, perfectly proportioned body with naked hunger. “Dude, you’re so pretty and so, so muscley,” he said. He sounded almost high with intense erotic need, a feeling Darius could empathize with. “I gotta touch. Can I touch?”

Darius’s smile became a slow leer as he took in his thrice-bumped-up friend. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple and down his razor-sharp jaw. He was feeling hot all over and, unusually for him, a little wild. His heart pounded hard in his chest as his lust slowly mounted past his ability to control it. Their faces were close now, and their slight difference in height was making the angle seem like pure invitation.

“Only if you kiss as well,” he whispered, sounding as ludicrously wanton in his own ears as Seth had.

“Sold,” Seth purred. The word had barely been spoken before their lips crashed together. Their bodies followed, massive cocks crushed urgently between them, encased by pecs and hips mashing impressively above and below. Strong hands skated gratifyingly over deliciously broad backs as the two muscle men made out with deep, ravenous passion.

Oh, we got trouble, Darius thought randomly, toes curling in the ends of his sneakers. The arousal escalated. Not all of it was coming from himself and Seth—the six of them were connected, and all of them were ramping up to the same soaring, all-consuming need. As Seth’s long tongue wrestled with his own he thought of the others upstairs, muscle-boosted and horny as fuck for each other just like they were, and instantly streams of wet, slippery precum started seeping from his many, many hard-ons as he moaned into the wild, unstoppable kiss.

Enrique sat stubbornly at the table for a few minutes, watching his brother calmly prowl the living room, eyeing the various artifacts on the mantel in turn. He hadn’t expected Dante’s remark about fucking Enrique with his own cocks to strike a chord the way it had, and he was uncomfortably aware that he was staring at his brother’s nude and very fine ass as he moved slowly from object to object. Looking away from Dante’s perfect glutes only caused his magnetized gaze to snap onto his brother’s sleek, nicely delineated swimmer’s legs, or the way his long back flared gently as it rose, capped with shoulders and lightly bulging traps Enrique couldn’t avoid thinking he wanted to run his hands over, right the fuck now.

Actually, he wanted to run his hands over all of the above. Followed by his dicks.

This wasn’t a new feeling. Enrique had always been a little hot for his older brother Dante, grudgingly appreciating his easy adaptability and innate ability to lead through confidence and charisma even as Dante’s naturally fit physique and simple handsomeness made his dick swell and his cheeks heat at the damnedest times. He’d kept a handle on it for years, mostly through a strategy of seducing ridiculously hot and randy guys like Evan and messing around with them to work off his high-functioning libido, all while letting Dante trigger a low-key hostility from Enrique, one that others who knew him as jokey and extrovertedly buddy-buddy sort never got to see otherwise.

Here, in their weird cousin’s mysterious and remote cabin, his attractions were clearly amplified even as defenses broke down completely. Something about this place stripped away inhibitions, filling the air with pure, low-key horniness that kept mounting until you had to make lots of blissful, endless orgasms happen for you and everyone around you.

Unable to sit any longer, he abruptly unfolded his arms and stood, marching across the room to where Dante was stooping to peer at a rough, heavy-looking foot-tall wooden figurine of extremely swole gladiators fucking like bears. He had his hand out, the flat of his palm held an inch away from the lewd cherrywood sculpture—presumably sensing for magical output.

“Well?” Enrique demanded, standing just behind Dante and peering past him at the artifact.

Dante glanced down at his shoulder, which Enrique was innocently grasping as though that were a normal thing for them, then turned back to his work, suppressing a smile. “Nope.”

Enrique was sensitive to smells, and this close, his brother’s enticing natural woodland aroma was strong. His stubble was coming out, too. Enrique was a goner for Dante’s face any time he let his beard come out even a little. That summer he’d worn a goatee had been torture.

Enrique felt his arousal seep into his dicks, two oversized iterations of which Dante unfortunately had hanging heavily from his groin. He knew his brother could feel his arousal, just as he could feel Dante’s. Truculently, he ignored it, as well as the way his thumb was stroking casually along the orblike surface of Dante’s deltoid.

“What are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?” he said after a moment. “What do think we’re actually going to find?”

Dante moved down the mantel, hand still out. He was now standing in front of the squat bronze totem of a monkey god cheekily grasping his arm-sized, very erect dick he’d noticed earlier. Enrique kept pace, hand still firmly on Dante’s shoulder.

“You know what we’re looking for,” Dante explained, his eyes focused on the hyperphallic monkey. After a couple of minutes, he frowned in annoyance and moved on again. They were both extremely hard now, the lust-levels rising rapidly through the whole house, but they both doggedly ignored their stiff erections.

“We need to know what affects us in this place,” Dante continued distractedly, “whether it’s latent, like the hormone levels or the detachment thing, or something that activates on contact like the kylix.”

Enrique felt his attraction to Dante mounting like the tach on a speeding Indy car. His heart felt thick with need. He fought it with harsh words, trying to keep him and his brother separate even as he gripped him harder. “And you can just stick your hand out and feel the magic or whatever like a Geiger counter?”

Dante was grinning. “See for yourself.”

Enrique blinked, taking in the ceramic-looking object Dante was examining. It was a large anthropomorphic raccoon-like creature, or maybe it was a dog, standing on its hind legs in a human-like pose. The hairs on its face and muzzle were more articulated than the smoother, stockier lower body. A white bandana was wrapped around its forehead just under the furry pointy ears, and around its more human waist were Japanese-style wrappings. Most noticeable, however, was what it was carrying in its arms: a very large, hair-speckled scrotum, almost as big as itself, the massive globes within discernable as they rubbed against the raccoon-man’s cheek—the scrotum was so large the creature had to tilt its head to see around it. Its expression was calm, slightly burdened, but generally satisfied.

“Jesus,” Enrique said, staring at the monstrosity with a sense of horror mixed with unavoidable curiosity. What would that be like?

Reaching across Enrique, Dante took hold of his other wrist and raised his hand to hover in front of it the way Dante had been doing. Enrique, not used to the Jedi method of nontactile discernment Dante had been using, instinctively moved his hand forward and grasped the raccoon-man artifact, his hand wrapping automatically around its body and scrotum.

He looked quickly at Dante. “It’s warm,” he said, even as the buzz of its magic thrilled through him, a tsunami of vibration heading straight for his groin.

Dante’s eyes widened, no doubt sensing indirectly what Enrique was experiencing. “Let go—!” Dante urged. Just then his muscles noticeably swelled, right before Enrique’s eyes. The hell—?

Dante was looking at Enrique’s body, too, but not at his tingling muscles. He was looking at Enrique’s crotch. “Bro! Let go!” he shouted, over the rushing in Enrique’s ears.

“Too late!” Enrique said. His balls were growing, feeding impossible amounts of lust into his body and swamping his brain. As it surged through his junk, thicking his erections and hardening them even more, the effect barreled through the multi-boy connection—through his shared dicks to Dmitry and Seth (who were both overwhelmed with lust already) and through his own raging oversized dicks to Dante, radiating outward like boulder splashing into a lake until all of them were infected, their balls growing, their hormones surging.

“Kiko!” Dante cried, prying his clenching hand free of the figure with difficulty, they faced each other, gripping each other’s shoulders.

“Dante, I—” Enrique said, then blurted, “You promised to fuck me! Do it!”

His voice was a whine, but the need in his suddenly grapefruit-sized balls heightened everything. Their cocks with sputtering huge amounts of pre by now, maybe more than any human had ever produced. Not just the four they had between them, but all of them, all of their cocks, attached and otherwise. This would be an epic eruption.

Without a word, Dante turned Enrique and pushed him to grip the back of the sofa. Enrique did so, bent over and ass out. He felt impatient and empty. “C’mon, bro!” he begged. “I need to cum in my own ass!”

Dante might have laughed, but Enrique could barely hear anything over the maelstrom inside him. A wet, slicked-up cockhead pressed against his entrance, and he could tell it was the ten-inch version of his usual six-incher. “No, the big one!” he insisted. He’d only been fucked a few times, normally preferring to fuck or get blown, but in this moment he had to have as much cock in him as possible. He had to!

“You’ll get both if you don’t give me your ass right now,” Dante said. Enrique was already crooked over with his anus ready, but he wiggled his butt to leave no doubt. Dante pushed the broad cockhead of the ten-incher against the ring of his anus and pressed slowly past it.

“C’mon, get it in me!” Enrique pleaded. “I have to cum! I have to cum for all of us!”

Dante said something that might have been “Bossy,” but he didn’t care. He felt his own cock pushing into his ass, inch by inch, sharing the delirious pleasure with Enrique and, through their connection, all the others. He could feel them, too, building up to a cataclysmic release, their balls grown and their production insanely amplified in mimicry of his own.

His, though, was the master scrotum—bigger, stronger, and in command.

He was so close. They were all so fucking close.

“Push it in push it in push it in,” he chanted. His fourteen-incher rode along his crease, blazing hot and ready to blow, free and clear in the open air as it brushed along the upper mounds of his glutes. That was nice, but his focus was all on the big, fat Enrique-cock drilling into his tight, inexperienced ass. “More,” he commanded, his voice catching. “Deeper. All the way, bro, all the way!”

“I’m doing it!” Dante shouted, gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks. “Shut your hole!”

Enrique squeezed, making Dante moan. “Wrong hole!”

“Come onnnnyeessssss!!!” Enrique bellowed, gripping the sofa hard enough he could have ripped it apart if he were stronger. He felt strong, and more aroused than anyone could be, but Dante bottoming out in Enrique’s ass with Enrique’s own cock was all that mattered.

“Oh god, yes! Yess!!” he shouted. The walls of his resistance burst, and suddenly an explosion of cum was gushing through his cocks—every one of his cocks. His ass was hot with jizz, the pressure pushing past the huge cock and spattering out onto Dante even as his even bigger monster cock firehosed cum all over his back. His unattached cocks were cumming, too, filling the sink with hot, liquid spunk.

Then the orgasm chain-reacted, through him and Dante to the rest of the guys. All of them were cumming, all together, pleasure feeding back and multiplying among them. The house was filled with moans, shouts—and, from upstairs, angry curses that could only be Dmitry.

Enrique was still cumming, but he grinned, sharing a look with Dante over his somehow-bulging shoulder as they glanced upward at the ceiling. Then another wave of orgasm kicked in, this one even more potent and overwhelming than the first. In his surging, cascading, multiplied euphoria, Enrique was happy to succumb to its force and lose the plot for a good, long while.

Enrique’s eyes flickered open, though at first he couldn’t see anything meaningful. He thought maybe this was because of the woozy sense of limpid euphoria floating through him. It was like his body had exploded with an orgasm too intense to bear all at once, and so was left to ripple forward through his life-energy for minutes and hours afterwards, barely receding even in the slightest. Maybe that was what he got for deep-dicking himself with his own extra-large prick and cumming as hard as you ever have, all with your senses overlaid with those of five other guys cumming as hard and as deeply as he was. He felt flooded and saturated with raw, golden-tinged, ridiculously awesome boyjoy. The warm, powerful afterglow eddied and surged through him still, like a living thing.

His ass tingled. Yep, he was still feeling it. He could almost believe the rigid length of the extra-large Enrique-tool Dante had chosen to shove mercilessly into him as deep as it would go before blasting his insides with what felt like gallons of gushing, white-hot cum was still there, pulsing and stretching wide. The feeling of it was seeping through him, a bright, physical catalyst to the enduring post-release bliss-fever, until it started to feel like his insides had been rearranged and he was nothing but a deep, achingly empty sheath for his own giant dick. His insides were desperate to be filled with hard, fat blazing-hot cock pounding into him, until he was destroyed with torrents of cum so powerful and intense they’d put the biblical deluge to shame.

It wasn’t just his floaty, spunk-saturated gray matter that was keeping him from focusing, though. Whatever he was seeing, whatever was slowly coming into form before his eyes, it wasn’t the living room of their weird cousin’s cabin. It should have been: that was where Enrique had collapsed after getting reamed by his own amazing monsterdick courtesy of his double-hung brother. But it wasn’t. All he could see was blue—a deep, rich sapphire blue, like he was inside the embodiment of vivid, infinite ultramarine.

There was nothing else to see, just himself, in his usual hues as far as he could tell, and the endless single-tint universe he was seemingly at the dead center of.

Something told him he needed to wait. It wasn’t all settled. The blue was in motion, like it wasn’t done forming yet. And his senses weren’t all lining up in sync with each other. He could feel he was slouched against something—his tactile sensations were telling him that much—but there was nothing visual under his back or ass. Not yet. He could smell something, too. Cum, maybe—a lot of sharply scented spunk. Was it coming from him, or from the real world he’d left behind?

He frowned, trying to concentrate. He needed to force his blissed-out neurons to get to work, making some minimal sense of these mismatched sensations. What the fuck was this liminal bluespace? Was it a projection of… something? Of his incredible, lingering afterglow? Was it some inner place inside himself? The side-effect of a permanently fractured brain?

Certainly, everything that had happened to him since they’d arrived here had been nothing less than a literal break from reality. Especially—

He’d meant to look down and aim a pointed flare at his groin and the ridiculous, still-buzzing and half-chubbed junk to be found there, which wasn’t even his junk anymore, exactly. But before he got that far his gaze got caught on his chest… with the surprise being that he had one.

He gaped at it, baffled, and, if he were honest with himself, a mite bit annoyed at how hot he found the twin mounds of firm, flat muscle he now had adorning his previously fit-but-flat chest. He’d never gone in for muscle, always having harbored a secret suspicion that bulky gym bodies revealed a latent need for attention and in most cases an egoistic personality. Honestly, his brother Dante having fallen hard for a genuine meat-head had been a bit of a disappointment for him, like Dante had aimed low and in the process revealed a shallow side Enrique didn’t like seeing in a big brother he’d always looked up too. Even admitting that Darius was (a) hot stuff and (b) as unassuming and selfless as they came, Enrique had half-consciously held his brother pairing up with a big-muscled boy-toy against him.

Which made the decently thick, look-at-me pecs he was sporting… well, exasperating. And hot, which was also exasperating. What, was the cosmos offering up some kind of snickering, physically manifested karma-recrimination on him? Was this like one of those old-fashioned black-and-white sci-fi anthology shows where the main character of the week spends 20 minutes mercilessly bad-mouthing something before super-ironically becoming exactly that thing, while the smug narrator arches an eyebrow at you and mutters something profound about the true nature of antipathy before fading into the happy, shiny ad world of Cadillacs and cigarettes? For your consideration: Enrique Cavazos, a onetime baiter of muscle-heads and jockstraps… now a thick-chested twunk in the Semen Zone.

Still frowning, his gaze shifted to his left arm. Slowly, he lifted the brawny, visibly thickened limb into a bicep pose and flexed, watching in awe as a veiny peak welled up, filling him with an instinctive sense of power and strength he’d never felt before. He stared at the round-tipped little Mont Blanc, poking it curiously with his other finger. Ripples of positive reaction to his pipe threatened to wake the formidable cocks attached to his groin—as well as his own various cocks, still faintly present and thrumming with post-fuck pleasure somewhere out there in the sapphire blue void.

He shook his head. “Fucking hell,” he grunted, putting his arm down. His shoulders were thick and beefy, too. His hair had grown out, brushing against the curve of previously nonexistent traps. The faint lines of his old, flat belly—the natural almost four-pack he’d had almost since he was a toddler—were replaced with a bog-standard six-pack, low and flat and delicious-looking, like it had been cut and pasted onto him by a Photoshop expert. His legs looked stronger and more defined, too. Even his ass felt rounder and firmer.

It didn’t feel like his body. His libido was trying hard to tell him it was awesome, spectacular, enjoying the view while swamping him with constant lingering pleasure like he was still inside his huge, stacked-up orgasm. (Was he? Was that where he was, really?).

But the feeling of dissociation was persistent and unnerving. His body wasn’t his body, not like this, tarted up with showy shirtless-douche bro muscles and someone else’s cocks.

Maybe he should be getting used to that. His junk hadn’t been his junk for a while; the round of increasingly sex-distracted trades they’d done had meant he’d ended up with two dicks, a five-inch version of Dmitry’s colossal, super-sensitive uncut tool and a copy of Seth’s classically beautiful, neatly circumcised ten-incher. Both were lolling against his hip, half-hard and messy with cum and pre. The rest of him should have been messy with spunk, too, he realized, but his honey-brown skin was clean and smooth, like the blue had gently scoured away all the cum and sweat.

And… below his borrowed cocks lay something that did feel like his own: his big, throbbing set massive, fist-sized, ready-to-cum balls. Even languishing in this weird, blue-tinged infinite afterglow his scrotum was taut across these churning, tireless, ever-ready powerhouses. It was the center of his sexual power. He reveled in the feeling of it. His muscles were strong but wrong, his dicks were big but second-hand, everything in his brain and body was blurred and overlaid with needs that weren’t his.

Only his throbbing anus and his forever-tight, hungry cock-sheath felt as much a part of him as his hot, squirming, trigger-happy grapefruit balls.

And it wasn’t even just that these huge, aching balls were intrinsically his. They were more than that, more than just balls. They were dominant. In every sense of the word.

He remembered what had chasing through his head during the sweaty delirium of his wild, reckless pounding where he’d been fucking himself on his own oversized tool. Mine is the master scrotum, he’d told himself. That artifact—the raccoon-man-thing. He’d touched it. Its power had torn through him, the power of his balls punching through their connections and slaving their enhanced, growing nuts to his huger, stronger, unquestionably commanding ones.

He smiled grimly. All this time he’d been cumming when everyone came, but that was done now. No more orgasms that weren’t his to control. They’d cum when he was good and ready. If they didn’t like it, they could… well, they fuck themselves, he thought, his smile twisting wickedly. And a fat lot of good that would do them, because he possessed the combination lock on each and every stupid nutbust those dicks could ever want.

As he was mulling over this little revelation, Enrique noticed that the endless cerulean expanse he was floating in was starting to take clearer shape, folding and delineating itself into a blue, roughly outlined version of the cabin interior. As it seemed to solidify it retained a certain translucence, so that as he looked up he could see the rough lines of the floor above. Glowing almost imperceptibly white against the blue were two sprawled, muscle-enhanced forms that had to be Dmitry and Evan, curled against each other in blatant post-coital oblivion.

Startled, he looked down and saw that he, too, was faintly emanating a soft white glow, though as he looked closer he saw it was concentrated in the areas of his body that had changed at various points thanks to the artifacts in the cabin: his bulked-up, well-chiseled muscles; his two heavy guest-cocks; and his hefty, hard-working master balls carried the glow, but not the rest of him. Glancing over he saw that slumped on the nobby blue-matter rug nearby was his brother’s recumbent form, also en-swoled. The hard, sculpted muscle growth was definitely general across the six of them, like the hefty scrotum upgrade he’d pushed through everyone in the group. Dante’s balls and two partly-tumescent Enrique-cocks seemed more alert somehow than the rest of him, he noticed, like they were prepping for the next round of sweaty, slow-building excitement while the rest of Dante was still recovering from last time

Enrique tried peering down through the floor, and was rewarded with a view of the cellar below and, to one side, the indistinct, intertwined figures of Darius and Seth. Not only were they wrapped tightly around each other, face to face and junk to junk, they seemed to be languorously making out even while unconscious. Seth looked impressively built, much more club-ready than before; and from what he could see this strange see-through world now boasted a version of the beefy, gym-honed Darius a third again as brawny as he had been before—though still firmly defined and, as ever, obsessively aesthetic. This was no muscle-rounded off-season beast but a big, hard-chiseled cover-boy, sized up but still hard, cut, and lean.

Enrique nodded. This fit. Whatever artifact had spurred the group-wide bulk-up was about the look and the feel, not just the mass. The common denominator that clearly connected all the changes was simple enhancement of the sexual experience through beauty and sensuality, expressed via alterations in size and quantity like the turning of a dial past the setting marked “normal” to new and provocative intensities.

He noticed something else. The blueness, still working through the process of ever-more-detailed world articulation, was resolving the outlines of the drawers and cabinets downstairs, and Enrique realized there were certain parts of the blue world that were neither blue-matter blue, nor the soft bioluminescent white that signified their bodily changes. The rows of drawers next to the sleep-kissy muscleboys downstairs, in particular, were spotted with various random objects that seemed to be made of red, not blue. Could these be the artifacts—the magic-charged ones they were looking for?

Quickly he looked around on his own level. Right away, he spotted the shallow Greek dish in which their raging erections had multiplied, sitting red and for the moment inert next to the sink full of cummy cocks. Turning the other direction, he lit on the raccoon figure—as expected, burning red. Another large red figuring sat on the mantelpiece that they hadn’t gotten to. A few more, maybe a dozen, lay secreted on the shelves by the potted trees where Dante had found the kylix. And…

Wait. Hanging on the currently blue back wall, at eye-height more or less for someone standing up and in the exact center of the wall but nearly obscured by two of the four potted fig trees, was a large, round, scarlet-hued torus. The thing was about a foot across. maybe the thickness of a wrist, and so freaking bright red the rest of the artifacts paled into obscurity.

Enrique stared at it, certain he had found the control talisman, the main magic-imbued object that affected everyone who came here (in every sense of the word). This thing was why they were all relentlessly horny, compelled into constant, euphoric sexual urgency. This thing was what eroded their inhibitions to nothing and made his ass tingle with a desperate, yearning need. Of course it just happened to look like a cockring for a lust-crazed woolly mammoth. This place—or, he guessed he should say, the horny fuckers who’d stocked it with every damned fuck-relic they could find—had dicks on the brain.

And if he stayed here much longer, he’d be just like them. They all would. Dante’d keep an even keel for a while, and Dmitry might resist longer than most out of sheer cussedness, but sooner or later they’d all be reduced to the infinite, overlapping pleasure of cumming and fucking, their bodies transforming and adapting like a constantly turning kaleidoscope, devoid of any meaning but the ever-shifting forms of ecstasy they shared.

Evan was probably already a goner. Fuck, he’d had a big, eager boner in the car on the way up, all the way here. He’d been half in the bag before the cabin even got to him.

A sudden sense of disorientation washed over him, and he realized with alarm that his consciousness was falling out of this blue world and back into reality. Was the monster-sized sextoy getting back at him for being recognized? Was it sucking his brain under and making him forget? Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was paranoid, or seeing things no one else bothered to see. It was confusing, and annoying. Just like his entire life at the moment.

Enrique gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t let the cabin get its way. Even as he felt the blue world ebbing away from him, he focused his fuck-drunk thoughts on the angry-red master artifact, looming on the far wall from behind the blue-matter fig leaves like it was staring him down.

Remember the giant cockring, he told himself firmly, screwing his determination to the sticking point, as far as it would go. Remember… remember…

“Cockring!” Enrique shouted, jolting into sudden consciousness.

Dante, who’d managed to prop himself up against the side of the fireplace across from the back of the couch they’d fucked over, smiled blearily at him. “Yeah? You want it to last longer next time, Kiko?” he teased. “You were begging me to cum in your ass as it was.”

His brother glared at him, which of course only egged him on. “I bet we can find one, though,” Dante cooed, glancing down at the fat Enrique-cocks swelling and jumping in his groin. “Or two,” he added, eyeing Enrique with a smarmy smile. “What do you say, bro? You ready to try two?”

Enrique’s look was one of pure derision, like Dante had let him down with his sex-jokes and his kid brother was pissed about it. Dante chuckled, finding himself distracted by the sweet, hard muscle Enrique had put on, swelling his pecs, shoulders, and arms nicely. He’d thought he’d felt both of them swelling bigger during their very extra-hot fuckfest. All six of them, actually, if what he’d sensed at the time was anything like real. Dante thought it suited his sexy brother, though he guessed it would take Enrique himself a while to accept it. Kiko didn’t “get” muscle, and Dante, who very definitely “got” the exquisite beauty of a broad set of shoulders, a thick square chest, a wide back to cum all over, and a delicious lat taper to lick down to a tight, narrow waist, hadn’t ever been able to figure out where Enrique was coming from when it came to hard-won, gym-honed brawn.

The sibling in question was currently staring daggers at him, even as their bodies reacted to the thrum of arousal that seemed to fill the place, their cocks lurching rapidly to an inevitable, aching hardness. “You were supposed to hold out longer,” he accused, glowering at Dante and his growing hard-ons.

Dante, still feeling bonelessly loose and a little mentally blissed out from the magnificent multi-layered release he’d shared with Enrique and the others, blinked at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“Exactly.”

Dante was still confused, but his need was overriding his other thoughts. His id was telling him that Enrique was too far away and that he needed to eliminate the space between them. The others, too. They shouldn’t be so separate. Splitting up to search the place was a bad idea. They needed to be all in one place and to blast the seed out of their bodies as thoroughly as possible, immediately and with extreme frequency.

He clambered to his feet, his ten-inch and fourteen-inch monster bro-cocks so hard now they barely moved except to quiver and flex in anticipation. Two drops of precum dripped to the floor with a silent splat as he straightened. Enrique, despite his protests, was doing the same, a vision of angry, well-muscled, redzone-aroused fuckability.

As if drawn by the same impulse, the others appeared. First came Dmitry and Evan from around the stairs to the upper level, then Darius and Seth from the cellar. Dante drew in a sharp breath when he saw his lover’s new silhouette—it was like Darius had packed on all the muscle of two years of relentless, carefully honed iron-pumping in the space of a single fuck. Seth was rocking a more demure but still impressive muscle-bod, too. He wanted to see him in his scrubs, though he looked fine naked and swole, his comparatively modest eight- and ten-inch hard-ons tapping urgently against his washboard abs. Dmitry’s gains were mostly in his chest, forcing his nipples almost out of sight underneath (were they wet? Dante could have sworn they were dripping something viscous and clear onto his diamond-hard abs); but Evan was bigger all over—and from the smirk on his face he was loving it.

Dante smiled at his friends. “You all find something interesting?” he asked.

Seth and Darius exchanged a look that seemed half-delighted, half-chagrinned. Dmitry was silent, but Evan was stoked. When he answered Dante’s question, the single word, “Absolutely,” thrummed through Dante like a jolt of raw, primordial sex that he felt in every part of him—especially his straining cocks, his twitching ass, and his suddenly oddly sore nipples. From the sensations ricocheting through the others, he knew they felt it, too, reacting exactly as he had.

That’s… weird, Dante thought, still feeling fuck-dumb and not completely cogent. Worse, Evan’s voice amplified Dante’s already soaring arousal, and suddenly the need for sex, for the feel of bodies and orgasmic release, was overwhelming and inescapable.

They all moved toward each other, forming a loose, wide circle in the center of the living room like they had before. All of them looked ready to descend further into extreme shared pleasure—even Enrique, though he wasn’t completely happy about it. There was something commanding about Enrique, though, something that emanated from his balls. All of their nuts had been boosted, but Enriquie’s were a size larger, almost like two big oranges or grapefruits, and Dante could feel the power coming from them. They all could. When they came, it would be because Enrique’s balls were ready to cum.

Dante grinned. That was exciting. He liked that idea a lot.

Enrique’s eyes remained fixed on Dante, drilling into him, and as he stared back Dante realized that the anger and intensity wasn’t all directed at him. Enrique was fighting against this welling need they were all sharing. Why, though? What was the point of not feeling good?

Dante felt himself frown, his brows drawing together slightly. Kiko was solid, and the most determined person he knew. If he had a reason…

Enrique’s eyes glassed over, then refocused. “Cockring…” he muttered again.

Dante stared at him, forcing down his impulse to laugh. Was he trying to tell us something…?

Enrique looked down at himself, even as Seth, who was nearest, started stroking his bulked-up shoulders. Dante was being touched, too. His hand was on Dmitry’s ass—he didn’t remember putting it there. It felt nice, though.

“I can still almost see it,” Enrique whispered as he stared at himself, ignoring the caresses he was receiving. He sounded like he was trying to remember something. “The bioluminescence. From the changes. And—” He looked up, his brown gaze suddenly fierce as he stared directly at Dante. “The red!”

Dante stayed with him mentally, barely aware of his hand appreciating Dmitry’s ass or the fingers sliding along his abs, behind his big, meaty, iron-hard cocks. “What’s red, Kiko?” he asked softly.

By way of answer, Enrique turned his head to glare suddenly at the far wall of the living room. He was looking at a point beyond the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, past the low shelves where he’d found the cock-duping kylix. But Enrique’s attention was fixated on nothing, seemingly—a spot on the whitewashed plaster somewhere between the decorative potted fig trees pressed up against that far wall.

Abruptly, Enrique broke free of the groping hands and strode through the circle, past the others, directly for that spot on the wall. Dante followed. He was drawn to Enrique physically, but he also wanted to know what Enrique was trying to understand and expose. The others gathered behind them, pulled in their wake like iron filings trailing magnet.

Thrusting his hands between two of the potted trees, Enrique yanked something free of the wall and turned, holding it up to show Dante. Dante struggled to focus against his arousal as they both looked it over critically. It was a black, doughnut-shaped stone ring, flat and thick like a life-saver. Not too big, maybe a foot in diameter and a couple inches wide in the ring part, beveled around the inner edges and curved across the top and bottom surfaces.

There were carvings on it, deep and red-tinged, but they were only on two sides, rather than all the way around. Like it was meant to have two ends.

His eyes met Enrique’s. Two users?

Mutely, Enrique lowered the ring so that it was perpendicular to their chests, on a plane between them. Lowering one hand to his side, Enrique shifted his grip so that he was grasping one of the ends with the carvings in his other fist, holding the ring out toward Dante to take the other.

Dante took the ring without hesitation. He didn’t know what Dante thought this thing was, but something had happened to his brother that he hadn’t been a part of, something involving the nature of this house that was affecting them all, and he was more than happy to let Enrique and his master scrotum take the lead. He held the cold stone firmly in his grip.

After a moment an intense sensation flooded through him—through both of them, because their connection was being amplified so powerfully it was almost like the two of them were a single entity—radiant, exhilarated, and, in their unity, extremely, impossibly horny.

Power was tearing through them and the ring like a constant lightning flow. They were so connected they could do anything, Dante thought. Be anything, control anything. He grinned wide at Enrique, inviting him to revel in the exhilaration.

Enrique’s wide, round stare betrayed his surprise—this wasn’t what he was expecting. He must have thought this artifact was something else. “Fuck!” Enrique burst out. shouting as if to be heard over the roaring in their ears. “It was a fucking trap!”

Dante felt huge, colossal, a dual being possessed of infinite possibilities. His arousal was overwhelming, but he didn’t care. He thought about his two raging Dante-erections and laughed. Would he still feel this horny without them? With a thought he transferred the straining tools to Enrique, leaving him with only a smooth crotch and his newly heavy, awesomely massive nuts. Meanwhile Enrique was suddenly struggling with the potency of four demanding, extremely needy super-hard cocks.

Dante felt giddy—swapping the cocks hadn’t lowered his sense of arousal at all. It might even have been higher, now that it wasn’t so concentrated in a single part of him.

“Fucker!” Enrique growled, a vengeful glint in his eyes. Suddenly the extra brawn was melting off of Enrique, piling instead onto Dante in slaps of transferred muscle. “See how you like it,” Enrique seethed, his four cocks spitting precum straight onto his slowly flattening chest.

Dante grinned, his joy so pure thanks to the intensifying pleasure of the joining ring it was threatening to smooth out every fold and cranny of his brain. He felt the others watching, spectating his experience and feeling what he was feeling. He wanted to do things. Make them all feel more. What else could he transfer to Enrique? Or take from him? So many possibilities—!

Then a strong hand gripped his bulging shoulder. With it came Evan’s voice. He uttered only two words into his ear: “Let me.”

Dante moaned, the visceral force of Evan’s throbbing voice burning mercilessly through him like a river of magma, bringing him to near-orgasm. His balls, ass, and nipples all reacted like a dog greeting its owner. In his distraction, Dante’s grip on the stone ring loosened enough for Evan to take hold of it instead. Then he’d released the artifact and was standing alone, a mere observer.

He took a step back, alarmed and disoriented. Darius moved in behind him, wrapping his massive arms comfortably around Dante as the two of them, and Dmitry and Seth across the ring on the other side, watched in anticipation.

Evan was focusing all his attention on Enrique. “Give them to me,” he throbbed, and even though it wasn’t aimed at him the voice induced another almost orgasm rippling through all of them, demanding and overpowering.

“Fuck you!” Enrique shouted back. Sweat was beading on his brows. How was he even holding out?

Evan smirked, certain he had the advantage. “Give,” he said, his voice low and saturated with orgasmic power. Enrique grunted, then gasped. Suddenly Even’s heavy scrotum swelled massively in size, taking on the grapefruit-sized nuts that had seconds before graced Enrique’s groin as well as his own, leaving a furious Enrique with four huge, throbbing cocks and no balls at all.

Evan was thrilling with success. He aimed his grin at all of them, piercing Dante with the raw sexual power of just his eyes alone. He wasn’t just voice-enhanced, Dante realized—he was nearly irresistible in every way. And now—

Evan seemed to guess his thoughts. “That’s right,” he intoned, sending pleasure flooding through them. “That’s right. I am the scrotum master now.”

And then he made them all cum, blasting impossible amounts of jizz torrenting from all their cocks, attached or otherwise—and, as if that weren’t enough, from their fucking nipples, too. It kept going, solely because the bastard imp Evan wanted it to. Dante felt delirium overtaking him as he came and came and came from too many places and with the layered overlap of five more multiorgasms besides.

As he threatened to black out a second time from ludicrous levels of multipled pleasure, still cumming unstoppably like there could be and would be no end to it, he heard two things: Evan giggling with glee, and, from far away, Enrique shouting, “You fucking fucker!”

Enrique flailed to hold onto his focus as the megaorgasm hit, but it was like clinging to a palm tree in the midst of a category 4 hurricane, battered by a thousand violent winds under a darkening sky as gargantuan tides rose to smash him into oblivion. Through the oncoming tumult, Evan—eager, I-want-to-see-the-cool-dick-magic Evan—grinned smugly at him across the stone-cold transfer ring, visibly reveling in the power he was amassing over Enrique and the others.

Enrique struggled to even glare at Evan, as the building release battered uncontrollably at him like a physical force. Despair clawed at him, staining the torrent of pleasure striking at him from within and without. Thanks to his brother Dante, who’d shared the swap-talisman with him at first, he had an overwhelming jumble of four giant, achingly hard cocks (bigger than before, he was sure) smacking at his thin-again chest and demanding immediate and rapturous release. Too many dicks, and no balls whatsoever. It was like some kind of ironic sex hell.

Enrique burned with raw hatred for his former suckbuddy. This was not right, and Evan knew it. All of the sex-fun at the cabin so far, both this weekend and the previous round with just the original four, had been relatively communal and benign; but Enrique’s ontime handsome, fresh-faced friend-with-benefits had twisted the game, in the process revealing his true colors. Evan had used his just-acquired irresistible voice to emasculate him—literally! He’d robbed Enrique of his awesome raccoon-totem-granted Nuts of Dominion and left him utterly, infuriatingly bereft of control and power…

No, he was not powerless. He refused to be powerless.

A glint of red chasing the edges of the stone ring he and Evan were still gripping screamed at him through the visual and sensory cacophony of blinding pleasure bearing down on him. Gathering his fraying strength he concentrated on the thick, black, 12-inch-wide giant cockring of doom, letting it fill his vision. He was instantly rewarded as the red streaks coursing around the ring became dramatically amplified with his increased attention. Enrique was reminded of a layman’s model of a hadron collider he’d once seen online, the red blurs flicking around the torus-like interior of the ring at seemingly impossible speeds. Was he seeing the essence of magic itself? It was as though the flash of infinitesimal red streaks circling the ring were somehow creating the eldritch equivalent of an electric field so powerful it could shift reality itself. Or at least, the reality within its reach, according to the rules of spellcraft (whatever they might be) and the specific purpose encoded in the talisman by its creator.

The intensity of the moment seemed to fire his neurons in rapid succession, and Enrique pieced through what he knew at lightning speed. Only he had experienced that blue interlude after the last orgasmic detonation, leaving him with a lingering hoodoo vision none of the others possessed. Only he had seen the stone ring, or known to look for it, and only he could retrieve it from behind the barrier that physically kept out anyone not gifted with the sight. He also knew the glamor-sight wasn’t part of the raccoon-totem’s gift, the upsized Scrotum of Supremacy—because Evan had maliciously taken that gift, and Enrique could still see magic.

That meant that the house, or more likely something in it they hadn’t found yet, had singled Enrique out both for the blue interlude and its very handy persistent aftereffects. Not the supposed heir Dante, not the untrustworthy Evan, not any of the others who’d accepted and wallowed in the strange sorcery of the place without question or scruple. The protective force of the house had picked him, the skeptic who’d had to see for himself to believe. That was how it seemed to him, anyway. And if that was true, maybe there was an implied reciprocity, and both the capacity and the onus to protect the house and the others from the venal misuse of magic lay with Enrique as well.

Enrique gritted his teeth. Now or never. They were all connected through their previous shared releases, eroding the barriers between them, but the ring talisman removed all barriers between him and Evan. He had to act immediately, using the onyx ring and his own force of will against the bastard before he escalated beyond all ability to stop him.

The euphoric superclimax was on them, microseconds away. Enrique knew he would lose his mind in the obliterating deluge of pleasure—but he couldn’t, not right away. He had to hold out long enough for Evan himself to fully succumb, like the sybarite he was. Only then would the dickwad be vulnerable. Enrique had to hold out for those few, tiny, desperate seconds…

Evan resurfaced from the brainmelting multiorgasm feeling weirdly sick and disoriented. His butt hurt, too, probably because he’d fallen ass-first onto the cum-splattered hardwood floor—that was where he was currently sprawled, anyway, sitting up with his legs splayed and leaning on his hand just behind him like he’d been knocked off a barstool in a comedy western. His mind was swimming. He was deeply saturated with pleasure down to his drunk mitochondria, and yet crazily he still felt like he hadn’t cum? That couldn’t be right. He must have cum gallons and covered himself with spunk after a stacked-up climax like that, just like before. The six-layered orgasm was still burning through him, for fuck’s sake. He could hear himself panting lightly, too, almost like he was in an echo chamber, and his heart pounded hard in his chest just behind where his huge, raging erections were somehow tapping insistently on his thin-feeling pecs…

Blearily he looked up, trying to clear his vision with a few rapid blinks. Because his head was sort of lolling a little to one side the first thing he saw was Dante standing off to the side, looking his way with a concerned expression on his handsome face. Wow, Dante was almost as buff as his impressively built extra-swole gymrat boyfriend, who was holding him from behind. Actually it was the lanky redhead and the bodybuilder BF snuggling Dante together like a team. What was the other guy’s name? Seb? The backwash of their shared climax was still sloshing between the six of them, giving Evan a hint of the connection that had formed downstairs between the redhead and the bodybuilder, the pure, overflowing love the latter had for Dante so powerful it bled through the two of them and made their connection an instant threesome. How sweet, he thought with an inner sneer.

With an effort he twisted his pleasure-sated neck and head around in the direction he expected to find the one he’d been squaring off with, namely his erstwhile hookup and engineering program buddy, Enrique. Only… it was not Enrique who was standing over him, chuckling triumphantly, his godlike body wet with sweat and cum.

Evan’s pulse picked up and rage flooded through him as he stared up at his own body looming over him. His stolen body. “You fucking fucker!” he shouted.

The looming man smiled wider, looking smug and relieved. “Nice look,” he purred, and just the sound of his too-deep voice made Evan’s already-hard cocks try to get even harder. It was uncomfortable, almost to the point of being painful. The looming man lifted a sleek mahogany brow in pretended sympathy. “What’s wrong?” he asked coldly. “Having trouble cumming without any balls, Enrique?”

Evan glanced down at himself, shocked, angry, and humiliated all at the same time. Of course, he had no trouble recognizing the comparatively scrawny body of his classmate and occasional fellatio partner—now altered to the extent of having four mismatched cocks and absolutely no scrotum whatsoever. Worse, there was no cum of his own anywhere. Sure, there were streaks of sweat and stray gobbets of jizz flung from the others blasting their cum all around him, but no spunk that he himself had produced. This body had orgasmed, forced into climax by Evan’s own possession of the Balls of Power while he was still in his rightful body—but because this body had no balls he still needed to cum, really really bad, and the edging incompleteness of it was agonizing.

He jerked his head up at his burgled body, blazing with wrath. “You fucker!” he repeated. “Give it back!” Spotting the stone ring clutched in “Evan”‘s right fist he made a lunge for it, but he was clumsy with the body-blur of six combined orgasms, and his stolen body easily stepped back out of reach. The movement made his heavy, mostly soft cocks flop around against his smooth, chiseled thighs.

“Aw, hell no!” the stolen Evan-body said, throwing up his free hand in a stop! gesture. “You are not laying a finger on this thing again. Hell, you’re not going anywhere near any magic for the rest of your sorry life, not if I—”

Evan tried to clamber to his feet filled with rage, but the Evan-body stepped suddenly closer again, his expression announcing he had no fucks to give. “Sit your ass down and don’t move,” he commanded. His too-deep, too-sexy voice resonated through Evan’s insides and refused to leave, like it was setting up a lingering waveform in his soul. Evan settled back on his hands and bare ass, seething but unable to resist that voice, his four huge, flexing cocks straining harder than ever toward a release he couldn’t have.

The stolen Evan-body mimed pressing his hand toward him once, reinforcing the command, then turned and padded back across the rear alcove space, toward the wall behind them with all the low dusty shelves and the potted trees—the place where Enrique had gotten the ring talisman from in the first place.

Fuck, he’s going to hide the ring, Evan thought frantically. Without that ring I’m fucked! No way am I going to be stuck in this twerp’s sackless stick-figure body for the rest of my life.

There was nothing he could do, though. That voice and inhuman beauty with which the white marble monument talisman had gifted that body categorically overrode anything he tried to tell his own body. Evan realized he was excited by this power—he still thought of it as his—but he had to admit that being on the receiving end of it was deeply upsetting.

Damn, even that ass had a commanding beauty. He felt a need to obey just that round, hard, beautiful ass. His ass! That was his magically imposing ass!

Anxious, he cast around for allies. To the left he spotted Dmitry, who also looked more unnervingly beautiful than he remembered him being. Upstairs in their little encounter Dmitry had been wanton and even submissive, however grudgingly. Now he had his arms crossed across his monster chest and was staring down at him with an expression of icy contempt.

When their eyes met, Dmitry’s flat expression allowed for a slight quirk of the lips. “Enjoying your comeuppance, little mongoose?” he said. His voice was just a touch lower and more erotically intrusive than Evan thought it had been, and with a twist of his guts Evan remembered Dmitry gripping the monument talisman too, however briefly, before flinging it away. That was the kind of insight that might have been useful if Evan had had any chance of winning over the arrogant blond with the frigid blue stare, but clearly in the present climate there was no chance of that. Dmitry had his number, and wasn’t the kind to get snowed. Not without magical help, anyway.

Just to not be a pussy, Evan flicked his chin at Dmitry—his grandfather had taught him the gesture, and he’d always thought it was more potent than giving someone the finger—and turned to find Dante had moved closer and was kneeling cautiously down next to him. He looked upset and confused. Vulnerable, Evan thought.

He took his chance. “Dante, brother, you gotta help me,” Evan pleaded, trying to sidle into younger-sibling mode, not that he had any idea what dealing with siblings was like in any capacity. A quick glance told him that the Evan-body was doing something along the blank wall behind the potted trees with one hand, the ring still by his side in the other hand. Hurriedly he focused on Dante. “I gotta get that ring back, big brother,” he pressed. “He stole—he stole my balls from me! My amazing balls! Look!”

Dante didn’t look but kept staring straight at him, his eyes narrowing in doubt. “Kiko?” he asked searchingly.

Kiko? Where had he heard that name? “No, no,” he said hectically. He glanced again at the Evan-body—he was stowing the ring even as he watched—then back at Dante. “It’s me! Enrique!”

Dante’s face clouded instantly and he recoiled, jumping to his feet and backing away in disgust. Dmitry barked out a derisive laugh. “What a moron,” the ice-blond scoffed. “He must have heard you use that nickname at least two or three times today, but he didn’t fucking listen. What an idiot!”

“They switched bodies,” Darius said calmly, pointing at the Evan body even as it turned away from the wall empty-handed, the work of hiding the talisman done. “That’s Enrique,” he added, folding Dante back into his meaty embrace.

“You sly dog,” Seth told Enrique, a.k.a. the Evan body. He had one arm thrown around Darius’s bulky, nearly doorway-wide shoulders, and a hand on Dante’s arm. “Nicely done.”

“I’m going to get it back,” Evan announced hotly.

Enrique returned to looming scornfully over him. Well, screw him. He was putting his body thief and all the others on notice. Trying to ignore how pathetic it was to have all the others standing around him while he remained magically trapped on the floor where he’d fallen on his ass, he aimed a glare at each and every one of them. “This is fucked and you know it! Give me my body back! It’s mine and I earned it!”

Seth snorted. “Earned it?” he repeated incredulously.

Eyes glinting, Enrique grabbed an empty basket with a wide, shallow interior off of a nearby side table and stomped out of the room. “I know what’ll shut him up,” he muttered, his long, fat, heavy phalluses smacking against each other as he walked.

Evan ignored him and tried staring Seth down. “Yeah, I earned it!” he retorted, anger building. “I was born in it! It’s mine! I touched the monument talisman, not ‘Kiko’! I—”

“You shut your mouth,” Dante roared suddenly, instantly incensed. He leaned toward him, still closely embraced by his two lovers. “You don’t use that name. No one uses that name.”

“Look, I’m just saying, I was the one who—”

Enrique was back. Dropping a basket full of dicks next to Evan he squatted down over him, easily straddling his smaller form. “Okay, let’s try this, douchewad,” he said. Grabbing random cocks from the basket he started shoving them into Evan’s crotch, one by one. Evan noticed that while the basket was full of mostly half-flaccid wangs of various sizes from various donors, there were a few super-stiff erections mixed in—and as he was the only one still erect out of the six, Evan realized, that meant that the ones he was pulling out were the steel-hard Enrique cocks, the ones that belonged to this body.

With every hardon he jammed into his crotch, most of them at least a foot long and some considerably longer, Evan felt more and more exponentially inflamed with arousal, until it became almost unbearable. “Stop, stop!” he begged raggedly, staring at his overcrowded crotch in horror as the need mounted in him.

His tormenter paused. Evan looked up into Enrique’s familiar Evan-green eyes. “You gonna shut up?” Enrique asked.

But—fuck it! The sight of those eyes—eyes he knew from the mirror, eyes that Enrique had even obliquely complimented once, back when they’d first met, with some offhand comment about “smart-ass hunks with pretty eyes”—inflamed Evan all over again. “You know what?” he bellowed. “Screw you. You stole my body and I’m—”

In a single, snap move, Enrique took the 10-inch Enrique boner he had ready in his hand, ready to add to Evan’s already crowded crotch, and instead jabbed it base first into Evan’s open mouth. Before he knew what had happened, the fat, raging erection had melded with his insides and become a part of him, just all like the crowd of dry, trying-to-cum cocks throbbing desperately against each other in his crotch.

“Mff—!” he let out, unable to talk around the huge, sensitive erection pushing past his lips. “Mff mff mmmmfff!!”

Enrique gave him a crooked smile of immense satisfaction. “Much better, dickhead,” he pronounced, his ubersexy voice making his myriad cocks thrum with need.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the new situation sank in all around. “Well!” Seth said finally, clapping his hands as if to punctuate the scene. “Who’s for getting cleaned up and maybe indulging in a little Fictionary or Trivial Pursuit after?”

Dmitry huffed. He hadn’t moved and was still standing there, chiseled and naked with his arms crossed like he was doing a recruitment ad for a Russian porn service. “I am for getting cleaned up,” he said. “Board games, maybe not.”

“I just need to unwind,” Darius offered. “Maybe a nap after. Or a languid fuck,” he added with a sweet half-smile, eyeing Dante and Seth.

“You know, I meant to mention,” Dante said brightly. “The records say there’s a big hot tub in the main outbuilding. Should still be working.” He glanced around at the others, not including Evan. “Seats six,” he added coaxingly.

“Sold,” Darius and Dmitry said in unison. They gave each other a look. Darius smiled. Dmitry did not, which made Dante smile a little wider.

Great, they were they were having a nice little sitcom moment and totally ignoring him. All except for Enrique, who was still giving him his full attention, at least for the moment.

Placing his hands on Evan’s upper arms, Enrique raised him to his feet. This involved another microdose of humiliation, as, in this body, Evan was a solid six inches shorter than this new Enrique, and probably lighter by at least thirty pounds of sweet, stolen, deliciously shaped muscle. Much to his annoyance Evan wanted the other man more than he could even understand. The fact that his all-encompassing desire was magically enforced thanks to the monument talisman’s gift of compelling voice and beauty didn’t make much difference.

Evan glowered warily up at Enrique, no longer trying to talk around his mouthboner.

“Much better,” Enrique said again, more softly this time. The others were drifting off toward the mud room that led out into the field behind and, presumably, whatever related structures Evan hadn’t even known were there. He was caught short in more than a few ways. Maybe there was a lesson to be had here about going slow and doing his research. He’d give it some thought.

Enrique held his gaze for a moment, his hands sliding up onto Evan’s comparatively narrow shoulders.

“You guys, uh, coming?” Dante said from the doorway.

“What a good idea,” Enrique said, not taking his eyes off Evan. “Give us a minute, bro?”

Dante nodded and left. It was just them.

“This is funny,” Enrique said, sliding one hand up Evan’s hand and through his unfamiliar hair. Down below, Enrique was hardening up, his Seth ten-incher and Dmitry 16-incher rising steadily between Evan’s thighs. Enrique’s smile surprisingly disarming. “I guess I’m kinda into myself,” he admitted wryly. “Especially with this coming out of those lips of mine,” he added, brushing the edge of his thumb along Evan’s mouthboner. “I had no idea dick was such a big deal for me.”

Evan couldn’t hold back his whimper at the very welcome and necessary touch.

Enrique moved closer. “The thing is,” he said, “you can still cum. You know that, Ev? You can. It just has to come from me.” Evan stared up at him, his stomach twisted, his heart thudding in his chest. Enrique continued, his tone soft and unrelenting. “I’m the scrotum master, Evan, and that means I can make you and any of us orgasm. I can also offer you my spunk to go with it. If I want.” He licked his lips. “Do you want that, Evan?”

Evan tried to glare, but his need was too great. Reluctantly, he nodded.

Enrique didn’t gloat. Instead, he moved in for a kiss, taking Evan’s thick, protruding, desperately needy oral erection directly into his hot, deep, and oh-so-welcoming mouth.

Almost immediately the orgasm hit them. It wasn’t the multiplied, galaxy-sized release like they’d been experiencing when they all came, the kind that made them black out in torrents of raw, unmitigated pleasure. This was just the two of them, cumming together: their orgasms overlapped each other, and Evan thrilled to feel real, hot cum surging through all his cocks—mouthcock included. As he blasted them both—Enrique’s cocks were between his legs, cumming somewhere behind him—he exalted in the delirious feeling of his hot cum shooting into Enrique’s mouth as they kissed, his orgasm finally, beautifully completing at last.

They were gasping through their kiss now, Enrique swallowing Evan’s cum as best he could even as more spunk spattered across their chins, chests, and necks from Evan’s way-too-many cocks. Finally they broke the kiss, their cum-release gradually ebbing. Evan slumped against Enrique, noting with surprise how much he was not hating the feeling of being held by a larger, more muscular man.

It was a few minutes of gently panting, sweaty bliss before he realized he was still hard, mouthboner, crotchforest, and all. He wasn’t in that awful unreleased state of discomfort—the satiation of his full and cummy orgasm was still flowing gratifyingly through him—but that somehow didn’t change the fact that his many cocks were still unrelentingly, intolerably hard.

He moved his head back to give Enrique a narrow-eyed, accusing look.

Enrique eyed his persistent mouthboner placidly as he casually wiped Evan’s cum from his lips and chin. “Huh,” he said. “Weird.” He shrugged. “Ready to try out the hot tub now?”

Evan stared reprovingly. Enrique smiled, not maliciously but like someone happy to be in complete control of the situation. Grabbing Evan’s hand he led him out of the main room toward the back door and the outbuilding where the others were. Evan went with him, resigned to the knowledge that his comeback might be delayed a considerable while.

Dante snapped on the lights in the outbuilding and whistled, shaking his head in awed disbelief. The large, unassuming two-story secondary structure set fifty yards back and slightly below from the huge family cabin hadn’t looked like much from the outside. Had he been asked to hazard its function he would have guessed something about mundane infrastructure and equipment—water heater, backup generator, that kind of thing. Maybe a tool room or a workshop. Hell, if this were farmland instead of a thick upmountain forest he might have gone for “gray, ugly ass barn.”

Even knowing there was a hot tub back here hadn’t prepared him for the interior. The sparse plans and cursory legal papers for the property his weird cousin Santino had passed on to him had gone as far as including the words “hot tub” and “outbuilding” and pretty much stopped there. Dante had expected something like a tiny indoor above-ground kiddie pool, housed in an empty shack like a tool shed or one of those little structures you did ice fishing in.

Instead, the building’s insides resembled nothing so much as a private spa. Apart from one knobby stone wall the whole thing was dark, beautifully polished wood. In one corner stood a glassed-in multi-person shower. Soaring above were two-story hewn-beam cathedral ceilings with a wide round skylight showing off the already red-tinting afternoon sky. A couple of doorways led off to smaller rooms to the left; one stood partly open, and seemed to lead into a smaller space with slatted wooden tiers—a sauna, Dante guessed. A big single-pane glass window in back looked out majestically over the valley where a few random dots of light in the neighborhoods below were inadvertently mirroring the early stars precociously emerging in the still-blue sky above.

At the center of the room was its main focus, a large cherrywood platform maybe four feet high with steps up two of the sides. Into the center of this was set a deep, massive hot tub that had to be nine feet across minimum. Soft interior lights illuminated the clear, faintly bluish water laying still within.

Dante was relieved to see the tub was already filled up. He hadn’t thought ahead to consider what would have necessary to do otherwise. It was a little weird there was water already, considering the slightly abandoned nature of the property, but for Dante that was par for the course by now.

Actually, the whole setting was weird. The entire outbuilding wasn’t just in good shape, it was immaculate and in perfect order. Same for the house. Cousin Santino had supposedly vanished into the ether all the way back in October, leaving behind nothing but the property and an unmailed sealed manila envelope in his letterbox containing deeds, a few less-than-informative documents, and a small set of keys on an old-fashioned iron keyring.

With one thing and another Dante hadn’t managed to get up here until his first trip two weeks back with the other Ds. The whole place had to have lain dormant for at least five months; and yet not only did the electricity work, the plumbing, the heat, everything, but the entire complex looked ready for inspection by a battalion of Marie Kondos and Thom Filicias.

Nothing had been neglected. The plants and trees filling the living room were alive and watered. Those hundreds of artifacts on the shelves and walls had not exhibited a single speck of dust. The wandering brick path down to the outbuilding was clear and in perfect repair. On the way down, bizarrely, he was sure he’d spotted a small, seemingly well-kept vegetable garden with what looked like broccoli, lettuce, and other spring-ready crops ready to harvest—this despite being tended, like all the rest of the estate, by no one and nothing beyond the invisible hands of fate.

It was… a little creepy.

Dante was unwilling to be troubled by anything inexplicable at this point, however, and he shook his head as if to dislodge the thought—the day had been stressful enough already, and he was d-o-n-e done. He padded across the smooth slate floor to the hot tub platform, letting his eyes wander as he made a circuit around the central structure until he found the controls on the far side, opposite the wall-like picture window. With such a sophisticated looking set-up he’d expected a maybe touch screen and AI-home style controls, so he was a little nonplussed to find a simple metal panel with a couple of big black knobs and some buttons to the side. Dante thought they looked more suited to a gas range in someone’s apartment than the presumably very expensive, elite-level multiperson equipment installed here. Maybe all the magic fritzes out the smart screens, Dante thought drily.

Bending to read the indicators, he turned on the heat and the water jets, looking up with satisfaction as the big tub started audibly bubbling like a relaxing version of Hekate’s cauldron. The smell of fresh water started filling the air around him, edged with a faint hint of salt and something else that Dante thought was pleasant enough but hard to identify, like one of those spring-themed room fresheners where you can’t tell what it’s actually supposed to be without checking the label on the back.

Seth and Darius entered the room hand in hand, Dmitry stalking in shortly after, several steps behind. “Wow, look at this place,” Seth said, looking around with a hint of childlike glee he didn’t often see in his redheaded nurse friend. Darius looked just as pleased but said nothing. He seemed to be eyeing the side rooms with curiosity, as if wondering what other mysteries the new venue in their magical mystery tour might contain.

Dante watched them both as they moved around the space together, comparing notes on the construction and the amenities. An almost painful surge of lust and love filled his chest, not just for Darius but Seth, too. He wasn’t even surprised. Ever since the last multi-organism and the transformations that had come with it, he’d been aware of how his love for Darius had broadened to include Seth, and he wasn’t questioning it. It was like the concept of Darius-the-boyfriend in his heart had seamlessly become Darius-and-Seth, and it felt right and natural to think of them together, with him. Objectively, the rules of boyfriending told him he should be at least a little upset that their new throupleness was the result of bonding Darius and Seth had done in the basement without him at the critical moment of magical convergence, but Dante truly did not care. Darius and Seth loved him, he loved Darius and Seth, and nothing could convince him he wasn’t the luckiest double-dicked magically enhanced fool this side of Multilimb Westeros.

Damn, Darius looked fine with a few pounds of extra muscle. But then, so did Seth. Darius had already been generously built: tallish and loose-limbed at 5-foot-10, through years of hard work the pretty, occasionally sardonic graphic designer layered on over 200 pounds of solid, meticulously sculpted muscle. He had mentioned not being sure he’d wanted to get much bigger, but fuck did the double helping of extra mass poured into the six of them what whatever artifact the two had triggered in the basement magical artifacts jumble-room look awesome on him. His cocks twitched, bumping against his slightly thicker thighs as he stared.

Seth was no less innately appealing, and Dante felt a little thrill at the thought of two boyfriends so hard he got chubbed just looking at them. Seth had been lanky and defined before, a few patches of red relieving an otherwise pale expanse of smooth skin and limber, pleasingly proportioned limbs. Now he looked like he’d walked off the set of Love Island, or maybe a soapy dramedy about gay Olympic gymnasts who were all too busy fucking each other to worry about training.

And then there was the extra-large double sausage hanging from his groin, shifting heavily against the oversized balls they’d all acquired as he moved. The twin helping of wang looked great on all of them, but Seth’s classic proportions and new thirst-trap muscle made him look like he was born to rock big dual cocks. The fact that one of those dicks was a double-sized Dante dick, and the other was Enrique’s, made it all the more cozy-sexy and somehow sweetly ideal.

Fuck. He liked things this way. Maybe there would be some undoing of things later before they all had to go home, but in that moment Dante was committed to ensuring that neither of his lovers changed a goddamned thing.

As the two of them walked around the space, turning to check out the sauna and the high-end shower system, Dante was caught unawares by the appearance of a very small tattoo on Seth’s upper left shoulder blade. How had he missed that before? Either way, a surprise tattoo on a new lover was hot as fuck. He peered at it curiously from across the room, trying to figure out what it was. An animal, for sure? It was small and curled around itself, like it had settled in for a quick, contented nap. Canine, maybe. It was mostly in light and dark grays, which put him in mind of a wolf. A slumbering wolf pup. Nice.

Dante wanted to lick it, just to see what it would do. In a place like this, maybe it would wake up and sniff at him a little before giving him a tiny little lick back.

He huffed, amused at the idea, and returned his attention to the controls. There were definitely markings and unlabeled positions here that suggested certain post-factory modifications. He turned one of the small knobs, feeling it hit successive notches, and heard the jets snmap progressively up to full power. He turned the knob back partway, and checked on his friends.

Dmitry had lingered by the main door and was nodding minutely as he looked around the large, open space of their isolated little private spa. “Sweet,” the ice god pronounced. “I could live here.”

The bubbling of the hot tub hid Dante’s quiet snort. Of course, Dmitry wouldn’t be interested in the house, which was obviously a shared space meant for multiple people. The surprise outbuilding spa, on the other hand, could easily be given over to solitary use and introspection. He could picture it with no difficulty: Dmitry, soaking alone in the elevated hot tub, staring out at a wintry starry sky looming majestically over the twinkling snow-dusted habitations below… the door locked, bolted, and barred behind him with a painted sign reading “NO ADMITTANCE” hanging outside… Dmitry the sole inhabitant, never intending to leave.

Maybe that’s what the broccoli is for, Dante thought with a grin as he mounted the steps to the platform, intending to test the temp of the water in the tub. Never heard of hot tub survivalism, but if anyone can make it work, it’s frickin’ Dmitry.

His ascending the platform drew the attention of the other three, and Dante found himself enjoying being the focus of their collective regard in a very lusty way. His elevation put him in mind of balcony speeches by despots rallying the masses below. Had Saruman gotten off on speaking to the Uruk-hai from the heights of Orthanc? Or Moussolini? Probably him, at least, the dick.

Dante felt justified in his growing heat—his men were hot as fuck, and their steady gazes even hotter. Dmitry’s placid stare was sexy enough in its own way, but Darius’s rapt contemplation of Dante and Seth’s possessive leer, the two of them now standing close with their arms around each other’s broad backs, heightened his arousal considerably.

He walked carefully over to the edge of the tub, his eyes staying on the other three but aware of his feet and the need not to stumble and fall into the pool or off the platform while everyone was looking at him. Seth, Darius, and Dmitry tracked him closely, waiting for what came next. The roiling noise of the water seemed to fill the room with the minimum necessary amount of sound to make speech not seem necessary.

At the tub’s edge, he took a moment to glance down at the inviting waters. For a sliver of a moment, he thought he saw a faint circle around the bottom of the tub, inscribed with obscure and barely discernable runes and symbols. When he blinked and looked again they were gone, as if hiding themselves from his sight and mind.

Dante frowned slightly, but just then the rest of their party arrived, New Enrique leading New Evan in hand in hand. Enrique offered his brother a smirk, and, like a good brother, Dante returned it. He was already feeling used this version of Enrique, recognizing him from movement and demeanor despite the completely different face and physique. They all looked different anyway, what with all the heavy, oversized, not-quite-flaccid cocks, their uniformly expanded, overproductive nuts, and the significant boost in hard, sexy, chiseled muscle they’d all deliciously shared in. They might as well be cosplaying, honestly. It was like their brains had been poured into ultrarealistic game avatars or something. But, just like playing COD or Blood Debt or Carpathian Death Race, they were still them. To him, at least—and he couldn’t speak for the others—but in his perception in-game Seth was still Seth, Darius was still Darius, and Enrique was still Enrique—stolen 6-foot-2 muscle-porn body and all.

The only one of them who seemed not to be in character was Evan. He’d’ve expected a lowered, angry glower to be emanating from atop that protruding, still-rigid mouthcock, hands twitching with rage at his side as a dizzying cluster of eight double-huge, cum-covered Enrique-pricks strained unsated at his groin, the sight all the more bizarre for utter lack of balls beneath; but Evan expression was docile, and his bulked-up bantamweight shoulders were just a little slumped. He was looking up at Enrique, humbled and even a little chagrinned, and Dante felt a twinge of pity for him—until he remembered what Evan had done and tried to do, to his brother and to all of them.

Enrique kept his eyes on Dante, all but ignoring the man he’d magically dominated apart from their shared hands. After a few beats, Evan finally turned and glumly lifted his gaze to Dante, the few inches of raging mouthboner shoving past his lips seeming aimed directly at Dante like the cannon of a World War II battleship.

He had all their attention now. Tilting his chin at them, Dante let the moment settle before making a show of dipping just his big toe directly down into the churing water, like in cartoons. Impressively, whether through some kind of magical artifact or just a very efficient high-end heating and distribution mechanism, the water was already exactly right. He smiled warmly and looked at the others, feeling the mounting arousal rippling through them as their half-soft, untamed cocks jerked and flexed against well-shaped thighs (or in Evan’s case, abs and chest) and heavy, grapefruit balls (in Evan’s case, not).

“You guys ready?” he asked. He didn’t wiggle his eyebrows, because honestly he didn’t have to. His voice, like the noise of the tub, carried to fill the room.

“Fuck yeah,” Seth said. He grabbed Darius’s hand and led him toward the nearest set of steps up the side of the platform, Dmitry following close behind.

They’d been stewing contentedly in the tub for some lost, unknown amount of time when he heard Seth let out a low, happy noise from the back of his throat. Dante smiled. The lanky, well-muscled redhead was slotted into the snuggle-space between him and Darius on one side of the tub, feeling like he’d always belonged there. Dante had been wondering how it would work in bed with the three of them—because it would be the three of them—and had been a little worried that claiming the middle between his two boyfriends wasn’t quite right. This, though—Seth’s solid form between them, their feet nuzzling each other, all their powerful arms interlaced, fingers stroking whatever expanse of skin they rested against, seemed like a fine way to go.

Not counting Evan, they were in a general state of languid three-quarters arousal, their large-to-extra-large cocks bobbing semi-tumescently in the warm, bubbling liquid. He wondered if their Scrotum Master, Enrique, was casually governing their state of collective horniness, keeping them all at a low, relaxing simmer until it was time to ratchet things up again. If so, kudos to his brother and his unexpected savvy with group dynamics. After all the day’s excitement and stress this was just what they needed.

He reached out to a rubber duck bobbing past and squeezed it, smiling at the little squeak it gave off. Seth, thanks to his hospital training had been the one to remember to find supplies before they’d climbed in. A cupboard by the platform stairs had yielded a stack of fresh towels, water bottles, and a couple of floaty squeak toys. The rest had been stacked behind them in arm’s reach near the edge of the tub, but the toys had gone straight in.

Darius reacted to the squeak with a little happy sound of his own. “Man, we should have a dog up here,” he said without opening his eyes, his fingers idly tracing the striations of Dante’s shoulder behind Seth. “Big hunting dog, all happy and friendly. He’d love it here.” Dante wasn’t sure if he meant the tub or the whole cabin setup. Maybe both.

Dante eyed Evan, who was nestled into Enrique’s side directly across the tub from him. “What do you think, Evan?” he said. “Should we find a talisman to turn you into a big goofy German Shepherd?”

Evan gave him a flat look. Some fire in there still, Dante thought with a smile, as the smaller man snuggled against Dante’s body-swapped, beefcake-ified brother. Good for him.

“A dog with a mouthboner? Ugh, no thanks,” Dmitry huffed from where he was parked on the side of the tumb between the two groupings, his god-muscled arms stretching expansively around the curve of the rim. His eyes were closed, too; on him it made him look like he was quietly willing the others not to exist. “I’ll have enough nightmares from this trip, thanks.”

They all chuckled, and even Evan looked amused, or at least mollified. Dante sighed and felt himself relax in the bubbly water even more. He turned his head and kissed the wet skin of Seth’s temple. He felt drugged, in a good way—like the energy and heat in the water was seeping under their skin, rippling through their muscle and bone and mending anything it found that needed repair or succour as the good, nourishing waves infiltrated their entire being.

The others felt it too, it seemed. “Unhh, what is this tub doing to us,” Darius growled. He sounded dosed with serenity and only half-conscious.

Dante snickered, thinking of the weird body-changing things the cabin had done to them so far. “Probably making us taller,” he joked in a low mumble.

Darius snorted. “Prob’ly,” he said muzzily.

“We shouldn’t fall asleep in here,” Seth cautioned them indistinctly, as though suddenly remembering the standard hot tub advisories. Dante thought probably the usual rules didn’t apply to a hot tub like this, but then a crafty idea occurred to him. Still, the warmth of the water and the moist air they were breathing, plus the contentment pouring through them, was more than a little soporific.

“Hey, Kiko,” he called across the bubbling tub. “Can you make it so we’re all cumming just a little bit?”

Enrique grinned lazily back at him, and then in the space of a heartbeat Dante felt himself rise to the level of pure orgasm—but it was a very low-level orgasm, the kind of steady, barely ticking-over climax you could let thrill through you while you watched TV, or did your taxes, or reclined in a huge magical hot tub with five incredibly hot and impossibly augmented guys. Their big cocks stayed only three-quarters hard (again, excepting the still-hard Evan), but spurts of hot cum were shooting excitingly up the innards of their shafts and spitting out into the shifting water.

Seth chuckled, nuzzling in closer to his men. The three of them shifted their considerable weight, their butts wriggling along the little underwater bench as their resetttled their positions. “Fuck yeah,” he said. “I hope the filtration system can handle all our manly seed.”

Dmitry snorted. “If Dante’s cousin is anything like him, I’m sure this is not the first time there has been semen in this tub.” Dante smiled, exhilarated by the steady, low-key cumming while remaining utterly, almost bonelessly content.

“You’re just jealous because we’re all paired off,” Enrique teased languidly. He squeezed Evan, who looked up at him in surprise from where his head was resting on Enrique’s pale, impressively thick chest.

“Or trioed off,” Seth added softly, half to himself.

Dante wasn’t so sure. He thought the beautiful, stand-offish programmer was perfectly happy with his own company and working off his aggressions at the gym in long sessions in which he meticulously built and honed his impressive physique, but he joined in the ribbing anyway. “Don’t worry, dude,” he told the big blond, only half aware of his words under the layers of simple, easy pleasure. “Maybe the hot tub will give you someone to kiss after all.”

“Fuck you,” Dmitry murmured, his expression not quite hiding his enjoyment of the comeraderie.

More time passed. Enrique seemed to dial back the constant low-level orgasm even further, so that it was almost subliminal, and they languished in the pleasure of the tub and the climax and their company as though time had become indefinite and lost all meaning.

Dante shifted his heels—they seemed to keep sliding across the bottom of the tub—and his feet came into contact with another set. They weren’t from beside him, but from across the tub. He blinked his eyes open slowly and saw Evan staring back at him, head still on Enrique’s thick, damp chest, looking concerned.

Evan cut his eyes to Dante’s right. Dante looked over and saw, to his confusion, that Dmitry’s snow-white, heavily muscled torso seemed to be leaning against—another one just like it? The Dmitry in front had his head lolled back, resting against the sharply defined cheek of an identically featured, platinum blond ice god. Only one set of mostly-hard cocks was seeping out constant, low-key orgasm juice though, and through the churning waters it was clear that Dmitry had one set of powerful legs for his two hunky torsos. The surface lapped familiarly at both sets of rounded pecs, as though that was what they were there for.

Dante stared, not sure what he was seeing. He remembered saying something about the tub giving Dmitry someone to kiss, but that didn’t make any sense. Could they really kiss like that, one behind the other? Though, Dmitry was exceptionally limber, and maybe that front torso could twist around more than you might expect it to…

“Unnnhhh,” Seth moaned into Dante’s shoulder, sounding almost like he was talking in his sleep. “I love this. I love these bodies,” he murmured. “We should make it so we were always like this.”

“Yeah?” Dante said, his stunted brain forgetting its concerns of a moment before. He’d thought something that too, that it would be a wrench to give up what they looked like now. Always having been like this would do that. “Yeah,” he repeated, “that would—”

A sudden, violent splash of water caused Dante to break off. He looked up to see Evan, the source of the splash, clambering hastily out of the tub, his face contorted around his mouthboner in pure alarm.

The others erupted in confusion. “What’s going on?” “The hell?” “Hey, what—?” Dante held Evan’s stare, heart pounding. Adrenaline cleared his thoughts a little, and he gasped as Evan rose to his full height on the platform beside the tub, and Dante realized just how tall Evan looked.

Before, the body Evan now occupied—previously Enrique’s—had been a compact 5-foot-8. Even with the added muscle they’d packed on, the impression had not been one of size or height. Now, that was no longer the case. Evan looked tall, like his embryo had been tweaked for maximum basketball proficiency. And if Evan was the scrawniest of the group—

He heard the conversation in his head.

Unhh, what is this tub doing to us, Darius had murmured contentedly.

Probably making us taller, Dante’d joked.

He looked over at Dmitry. The handsome face attached to the muscular rear torso was staring at the torso in front. The torso in front was glaring at Dante, hard. “What—the—fuck,” he said in perfect unison.

Don’t worry, dude, he heard himself saying in his head. Maybe the hot tub will give you someone to kiss after all.

He looked back up at Evan, wide-eyed. He felt Seth and Darius looking at him in concern, Seth’s had pressing against his now-heavy pecs. “Dante?” he asked.

Dante’s focus was all on Evan as he felt a flicker of horror in his belly. “I was about to make it true,” Dante said. “I was about to make it retroactive.”

Evan gestured toward himself, the movement somehow taking his borrowed body, his mouthboner, his lack of balls, the cock-cluster, all of it. Then he shook his hand back and forth in front of him in a frantic “no” gesture.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Dante said, laughing. “I wouldn’t want that retroactively either! High school with no balls and dick-tongue would probably have been hell,” he added, wondering how that would even work. Would all their memories have been fucked with? Their families, friends, wardrobes? What kind of entity regulated shit like that, anyway?

Evan leaned back against the wooden platform railing, hand on his chest like he’d just had a close call with a bear, or a guy hunting a bear. Enrique was sitting up in the tub, looking confused. “Bro, what—”

“The tub was accepting my commands,” he explained, looking around at the others staring back at him. “As owner of the house. It was nudging reality. Making them come true. That’s the thing the tub does.” He wondered what other things the tub had been asked to do. Maybe it had even had a role in his cousin’s disappearance. Santino and his friends weren’t dead, he was sure of that, and with an artifact like this they could have shifted reality to give them any kind of like or even taken them to a world beyond anything they knew…

Dmitry shook his heads. “I knew this was your fault,” he groused in stereo. Even as he said this, Dante noticed Dmitry’s rear right hand sidling up his rippling front abs and onto his chest, as though testing whether it felt different to feel himself up that way.

“Uh huh,” he said. “Suck it up, buttercup.” He smiled around at the others. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “I’ll make sure everyone is all fixed up by the end of the weekend.” Eyeing his lovers and knowing that undoing their hotness was pretty much out of the question, he added, “One way… or another.”

A kind of charged wariness overcame the six men after the revelation that they had all inadvertently submerged themselves in an eldritch pool of uncertain origin that could rewrite their histories, potentially wipe them all out of existence (or into new existences) with a careless word or two. The guys were giving each other silent glances, like townspeople in a saloon tensing up after the barkeep offhandedly thanks the old witch passing through for her “help” with the beer casks.

They might have laughed it off. After all, there had been plenty of transformations, both subtle and radical, since they’d arrived, and they were all almost used to it—particularly the four of them for whom this was the second trip up to the mysterious cabin of mysteriousness. It was all par for the course. Evan’s body swap and subsequent humiliation by overphallification was a bit of an EKG spike, true; but that had come out of the magical-talisman version of a knock-down brawl, and Evan’s final transformation itself had been the catharsis that had ended the crisis and allowed them to be relax and step back. Even knowing that they were slowly getting incrementally taller as they lazed in the bubbly water, minute by languid minute, millimeter by millimeter, had produced only a tranquil “Okay, sure.”

Dmitry’s hot tub transformation, on the other hand, for all that the ice king’s double glower had made it comical as hell, was sudden, and shocking, and generally hard to ignore. More than that, it had had been triggered not through sustained contact with a sorcery-seeping artifact (a process that seemed somehow natural in its own weird way, like your hands turning purple after smooshing a bowl of blueberries) but via a few casually spoken words with no transformative intent whatsoever. That was, for the six of them collectively, both exciting and unsettling.

Personally, Seth was listening to the devil on his shoulder and finding himself low-key tempted to try talking Dante up a bit and see if he could randomly push him into a few blind transformations, just for the hell of it. He liked a bit of mischief. He didn’t think much of Evan’s more blatant brand of self-motivated shit-stirring, and Enrique’s forceful personality pushing things into new territory wasn’t him either. but catalyzing a few eddies under the surface, especially with the stakes pushed up higher than usual, was sinfully attractive. Especially with an easy mark like Dante.

Darius, though, snuggling into him on his left with Dante on Seth’s right, clearly wasn’t as sanguine. Though Seth’s connection with the laconic, unfairly beautiful bodybuilder was new, it was also deep, charged with powerful emotions and physical need coursing both ways between them, and Darius’s existing connection to Dante had bound their three hearts together. Darius was worried: mostly about Dante but also about Seth. The weight of that concern made him guiltily repent of his naughtier urges, mostly, at least for the moment.

Being less honorable than his two excellent hunk-partners could be fun in its own way, but there was a time and place, after all. His brand of impishness was a little like BDSM: it involved consideration, respect, and its own form of tacit consent.

He sat himself up a little in the fizzling tub, still rubbing shoulders with his two darker, sexier muscle-men, and addressed the group briskly. “Welp,” he said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I am hungry as fuck. Shall we repair to the house for a timely repast?”

“Good plan,” Darius said immediately, rising out of the water like a thickly muscled Leviathan like he’d been waiting for a cue to exit the sorcerous brew. Seth followed, Dante responding a second later more or less automatically. Seth wondered what he was thinking. If he had a magical pool that obeyed his commands, what would he do? Seth suppressed a smirk. He’d probably think of something. Maybe Dante has a few ideas, too. He’s patient enough to wait for the right moment. Seth had a bit of that kind of patience, too.

The others were standing as well. Interestingly, Dmitry was showing no sign of awkwardness or imbalance despite his new configuration as he hoisted himself out of the water, one wet foot on the platform, then the other. Graceful as ever, Seth thought, impressed and intrigued. Was that included in the transformation? Or is it just Dmitry’s natural iron control?

Enrique had his arm around little Evan; both of them were watching the marble-sculpted ice man, too. “I bet Dmitry is hungry,” Enrique said, his smirk and tone familiar despite his new face. “I bet he could eat enough for two.”

Dmitry did not even spare him a look as they all splashed out of the tub and onto the elevated deck around the rim. Instead, he bent to grab one of the big, blue, fluffy towels from the large stack by his feet and tossed it expertly at Seth. He caught in surprise.

“Thanks, man,” Seth said. Dmitry nodded wordlessly. He did the same for the others, Evan and Enrique included, then took one for himself, flicking it down once from the corner to loosen the folds before proceeding to methodically wipe himself down.

Seth was having trouble taking his eyes off Dmitry, actually. The man’s chiseled, Adonis-like figure seemed almost ideally suited to both the duplication of his long, exquisite torso and the addition of what had to be a good eight or ten inches of height. He was like an alien from a movie that had never been finished or released, because the test audiences watching the first round of rendered scenes had lost track of the plot thanks to how they had all gotten hot and bothered and eventually cum in their pants just from how the wild modifications to the human form had happened to trip every switch they hadn’t known they had.

Darius nudged him, and he looked over to see him grinning knowingly at him. Seth dropped his head, embarrassed, and focused intently on drying himself off: pits, creases, between the toes, and everything. Dante and Darius snickered good-naturedly behind him as they did the same.

“You cooking again, Seth?” Enrique asked, already done and padding around to the steps leading down from the platform, towel in hand. Evan trailed silently behind him like an acolyte. “Those pancakes were pretty decent.”

“Sure,” Seth said, watching Enrique’s round, white ass with approval. “I saw some chicken breasts I could fry up. Some baked potatoes. There’s soft butter and sour cream, I know that.”

“I noticed some herbs in the vegetable garden that might go with the chicken,” Dante suggested as he worked on drying his hair. “Maybe some green onions?”

“Nothing better than sour cream and green onions piled on a steaming jacket potato,” Seth agreed.

He looked up to find Dmitry looking at him. He was finished drying, the blue towel rolled up loosely and tossed over his rear shoulder. He was giving Seth two dead-eyed stares.

Seth stilled, Dante and Darius doing likewise when they noticed their tableau. “What?” Seth asked.

“Dairy products,” he said, his voice cold and menacing, “do not belong on potatoes.”

Seth gaped at him for a second, mouth slightly open, before he caught the glint in the arrogant blond’s icy blue glare and broke out laughing. Dmitry smiled, too, proud of himself. Turning away he made for the stairs. To Seth his shoulders and backs looked broad and relaxed, like he was a double-peaked island content to be a rock in the stormy seas around him. Seth and the others followed, still chuckling as they went.

Dinner was weirdly normal. Part of it was the familiar, reassuring ritual of a shared meal. Seth was sure that putting on pants also had something to do with it. While exploring the cupboards in the outbuilding prior to their soak, Seth had come across a few stacks of extra-loose drawstring pants in various dark colors and had mentally bookmarked them for after, guessing it might feel nice to slide into a pair of light, cool trousers after drying off from a hot dip. On their way out Seth, remembering the idea, made straight for the same cupboard, shaking out a pair of midnight-blue bottoms that didn’t clash too much with his pale skin and ginger coloring and pulling them on one leg at a time, using a nearby table for support. When Dmitry, Dante, and Darius stopped by the door and looked back to see what was holding him up, they looked caught unawares but not dismissive.

“Come on,” Seth said cheerfully as his remaining foot cleared the hem and he started pulling them the rest of the way up. “Wouldn’t you rather be sexily topless than crassly nude?”

Darius and Dante seemed amused, but it was Dmitry who shrugged and walked back to check the selection for himself. Darius and Dante exchanged a look and followed suit, and a few moments later they were exiting the building, “sexily topless” per Seth’s suggestion, with Seth toting a couple of extra pairs under his arm for Evan and Enrique.

He wasn’t quite sure why it felt so good to be partially clothed. They were all still feeling hot-blooded and on the ragged edge of full arousal—it would be a matter of seconds for Seth to work himself up to a crazed, steel-hard and sweaty arousal that would require the immediate and urgent deep-fucking of one or both of his tall, lusciously proportioned boyfriends. The six of them had been fully naked and sporadically cumming for hours and hours now, all of it with easy, casual access to cocks and mouths and asses, and Seth thought maybe wanted something a shade different. His instincts were telling him that his next tryst would burn that much brighter if it involved unwrapping himself like a present. Or being unwrapped, by someone with a smiling face and nimble hands.

Plus, the cool cotton did feel nice against his long legs and the two impressively sized-up specimens of phallic pleasure equipment he’d acquired courtesy of the two Cavazos brothers. His borrowed monster wangs were currently flaccid (mostly), hanging one each down the two pants legs, enjoying the contrasting sensations of rubbing against fabric and thigh as he walked. That the pants fit them each perfectly, loose and long enough around the legs and comfortably snug around their narrow waists, didn’t even register as strange despite the fact that they were now ranging closer to seven feet tall than six, and the twenty or thirty pounds of new muscle they were toting wasn’t all in their torsos by any means. (Darius’s ass had definitely gotten rounder and beefier, and Dante’s butt—honestly not the best in the group when they’d first gotten there, thick but a little flat in back like the clay model it had been based on had been squashed with a hardbound textbook or something just before production—was now round, perky, and close to irresistible.)

Seth would have been more surprised if the supply of pants sitting there patiently waiting for them in the magic bathhouse attached to the house of transformative artifacts hadn’t been a perfect fit. This wasn’t the Gap. He was aware that the cozy fit, tailored to each of their forms and circumstances, might mean that the pants themselves weren’t just magically adaptive—they might be actual artifacts, even now tricking him into some insidious transformation he wasn’t yet aware of.

Seth was inclined to say “Fuck it.” Even if such a play were well within the bounds of what they’d come to expect from this place, knowing that the hot tub gave Dante the power of retcon and reversal stripped away any anxiety. Seth was happy to go along with almost anything, for the time being. Grabbing his lovers’ hands, he started the three of them jogging for the house, smiling wide and playfully aiming himself and Dante on either side of Dmitry so they ended up plowing him along with them up the path to the back door, Dmitry making small grumbly noises the whole way.

The chicken and baked potatoes were a hit, improved by the fresh herbs Dante had harvested while he and Dmitry did prep, and they pushed back from the table feeling sated in a way other than what had become customary for them. By the time they sat down to eat the fact of Dmitry’s new form was already familiar, and the intermittent fascinated stare from Seth and the others was mostly curiosity about the mechanics of how he would choose to eat with two mouths, two gullets, et cetera et cetera. Seth wasn’t sure the observation was very edifying, and he strongly suspected that Dmitry’s choice to each the chicken entirely with his front torso and the potato (with a light skim of butter despite his joke, plus salt and pepper) with the back torso was entirely for their benefit. He did drink with both mouths, tipping his water glass first against one, then the other. This made sense to Seth—both throats would be equally thirsty, or so he assumed.

Evan had a different problem. While the other five had been soft for most of the time since the confrontation over the ring-shaped artifacts, Evan had been unrelentingly hard—not only the insane cluster of uncounted Enrique-boners in his crotch but the one Enrique had stuck in his mouth, too, replacing his tongue with a huge, hard, precum-weeping cock. Seth had wondered how that would affect Evan’s ability to eat; certainly Seth would think twice about trying to slide hot food or cold drink past a raging mouthboner. He knew Darius had explored the possibilities of living with a mouthcock after their first trip up, but Darius had been able to get his soft, giving him a very unusual and extra-sensitive kind of tongue that seemed to make eating certain foods quite a rush. Evan, however, had had control over his body, and especially his cocks, rightly taken away from him after the stunt he had tried to pull with the ring artifact.

As it turned out, Enrique, perhaps predictably, could control Evan’s cocks. Presumably this was through the “scrotum master” super-balls power he had over all of them, though Seth thought maybe the fact that all of Evan’s cocks were actually Enrique’s probably had something to do with it. Enrique had duly consented to soften Evan’s cocks long enough for him to eat, though he’d stiffened them up to full, steel-hard rigidity the moment they were all done.

Like with Dmitry’s doubled torso, the hard, fat ten-inch cock pushing out of Evan’s mouth was starting to seem mundane to Seth. From the placid look on his face as he leaned back from the table, maybe Evan was feeling the same. He hadn’t been chatty during the meal, content to watch the others talk as he ate, so either he was really feeling the pinch of his outsider status or he was settling into New Evan, the smaller, hornier version with attendant mouthboner.

Or he was planning something, but Seth was willing to let that be Enrique’s problem. The younger Cavazos had shown himself to be more than capable. Besides, from the looks he was casting at Enrique the main thing he was planning was probably fucking.

Seth had other fish to fry. For one thing, he wanted to get a look at that secret room downstairs he and Darius had figured out must be there owing to the mismatch in footprint between the cellar and the main floor. He couldn’t explain, but something inside him was wanting to expose that particular mystery. It hadn’t been nagging sat him, exactly, but he’d added it to his mental to-do list while they were down there, and that unchecked box was now looming in his mental status screens, wanting to be resolved.

Dante heaved a sigh as he pushed his chair back, patting his flat belly. “I am so full,” he said. “That was awesome. What do you guys want to do now?”

At this, Evan gave Enrique a crafty look. Unexpectedly he jumped to his feet, pulling Enrique up with him, and led him to the stairs, Amusingly, Enrique went willingly, pausing only to grab a couple of random 16-inch monster dicks from the penis dish before rushing upstairs after Evan with a grin. Seth guessed the black and hunter green pants Evan and Enrique, respectively, had donned before dinner would be pooling on the floor in one of the bedrooms before anyone could say “I was not expecting that.”

Dante stared after them, blinking slowly. “I was not expecting that,” he muttered.

Seth barked a laugh, and Dante turned to him, amused. “Oh, so you were?”

Seth shook his head, smiling. “No, I’ll tell you later. Those two are twisting around each other surprisingly snugly, though,” he added, looking up at the ceiling.

“I know the feeling,” Darius said fondly, smiling at Dante, then Seth. Seth spent a moment drinking him in. The extra height Darius had gained made him feel more solid, emotionally and physically. Even sitting down relaxed at the table he was like an Earth god of nurturing and relentless sexual vigor. Seth wondered how he had done without having this strengthening, grounding presence in his life. Also, how was Dante willing to share this gift of a man?

Not that he could imagine doing without Dante, either, come to think of it. Man, he’d carved out two places in his heart for these guys, and he’d thought that thing was closed and sealed like a forgotten tomb.

Still, he played it cool, as usual. “You,” he said drily, cocking an eyebrow at Darius, “are hot as fuck and the world’s best kisser. I’m shocked you don’t have ten boyfriends.”

“Two is enough,” he said easily. “In fact, it’s exactly right.” He arched a dark brow of his own. “For now.”

Dante and Seth both laughed. “Fucker,” Seth said, wadding a potato skin and tossing it at him.

The big guy chuckled and stood, looking like a pretty-faced vision of muscle and sex in his loose dark-purple bottoms. “I could use a walk after all that food,” he said. “Dante?”

“Totally,” Dante said, rising quickly. He smiled at Seth. “You coming?”

Seth shook his head. “I need to digest a little before I do anything… physical.”

Dante and Darius both gave him a leering smirk that made his cocks twitch. “Duly noted,” Dante said. They turned and headed for the front door, and the fact that Darius had to dip his head to clear the jamb almost made him jump to his feet and follow after them with lascivious intent.

Finally it was just him and Dmitry. The blond ice god was watching him suspiciously. Seth made a go at nonchalance as he stood, rolling his shoulders as though in need of a good stretch. “Well,” he said to Dmitry, “A-a-abyssinia.” He moved away from the table and casually wandered in the direction of the narrow cellar stairs, then ducked through them and hurried quickly down the steps as if evading a tail.

If he was, he told himself, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. The sound of Dmitry’s heavy tread on the steps was following him before he’d even reached the smooth concrete floor of the lower level. He shook his head and took up a position considering the wall of drawers he and Darius had found before. propping his elbow on his other arm and stroking his sandpapery chin thoughtfully.

Dmitry appeared beside him a moment later. “What are you doing?” he asked flatly.

Seth glanced over at him. Dmitry would be intimidating just from his personality alone, but even with the boost in height they’d all gotten in the hot tub Dmitry still had a good half a foot on him—and two icy glares leveled from a superior position were enough to make him feel like an ant under a magnifying glass on a bright sunny day.

Though there were benefits: for one, he was face to face with both of Dmithry’s thick, striated chests. The fact that these were massive enough that that back pecs were pressing firmly against the shoulder blades of the front torso made Seth want to forget what he was doing and try adding Dmitry to his collection of men instead.

That didn’t seem like a good idea, though, and he forced himself to stay on target. “I saw something down here before,” Seth admitted. “I wanted to check it out.” He could feel the pull of that negative space—that gap behind the wall. It was almost tugging at him.

Dmitry frowned, turning his front-torso glare toward the wall of drawers. The Dmitry head in back kept his disapproving gaze aimed mercilessly at Seth. “We shouldn’t be looking for more trouble,” Dmitry said with his rear visage, his tone intense.

Seth looked up at him, fascinated. “I thought there was still just one consciousness going on up there,” he said. “How do you look at two different things at the same time?”

“With difficulty,” Dmitry said curtly.

Seth gave him a flat look. “You do everything ‘with difficulty,’ don’t you, Grunk?”

Dmitry was visibly unimpressed by the resurfacing of the unflattering nickname—enough so that Seth wanted to laugh. Instead, he pointed at the far end of the wall of drawers, in the ranks furthest to the right. “See, those?” he said, and was a little gratified when Dmitry dutifully turned both heads to look. “Those last two columns of drawers—don’t they look fake to you? Like they wouldn’t actually open?”

Dmitry nodded. “Possibly. So?”

Seth noticed that the hands on his rear torso seemed slightly more restless next to his dark brown bottoms than his front ones. Remembering how he’d been in the hot tub, Seth quickly concluded that Dmitry was probably aching to feel himself up from behind again. It must feel different if you’re set up like he is, he thought. He filed away this distracting thought for later consideration and went on explaining.

“This space,” he said, “doesn’t match the footprint of the main floor, right? There’s something back there, on the other side of those shelves. A hidden room. Stuff we haven’t seen. Maybe answers, like what all of this is for. What happened to the previous owner—Dante’s cousin. Stuff like that. And I think that that,” he added, gesturing at the two columns of fake drawers, “has to be the entryway.”

Dmitry shook his head. “We’re on a mountain,” he said reasonably. “Mountains have slopes. Slopes that go that way.” He pointed toward the cellar ceiling over the wall of drawers. “There’s no reason to believe there’s anything back there but rock and soil.”

“If this were any other house, I might agree with you.”

Dmitry turned his rear head to look at him again. “Just because this is a mysterious place,” he said, “doesn’t mean everything here is a mystery. Otherwise, the toilet would have turned our urine into butt lube, and the green onions Dante picked would have made us grow hands coming out of our groins or something.”

Seth’s eyes widened. “That was—wow. You and I are dragging Dante to the hot tub after this just to make that happen, along with every other idea in the freaky double brain of yours.”

“Fuck you,” Dmitry drawled without heat. He turned both heads to look at the drawers again.

Seth shrugged. “I’m giving it a shot.” Then, before either of them could talk him out of it, Seth stepped forward, selected the middle handle in the next-to-last column of drawers, and yanked.

“Wait,” Dmitry said. Something gave, and Seth pulled harder. There was a click as of a heavy latch being released, like a revolving bookcase in a gothic silent movie. Seth pulled again and the edge of a three-inch-thick door was revealed, grinding open reluctantly on hidden hinges near the cellar wall. Within a few moments there was a gap big enough for them to slip through, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

He tossed a grin at Dmitry, who frowned. “Don’t do it,” he said sternly.

Seth grinned wider. “That’s just telling me to do it,” he said. Quickly he darted through, Dmitry grabbing after him.

Almost instantly Seth lost his balance in the dark, and a second later he was falling through another door—this one much thinner and lighter, from the feel of it. He rolled out onto the floor, Dmitry tumbling out after him.

They got to their feet, Dmitry glaring at Seth, Seth looking around in awe. “What the fuck, dude?” Dmitry said. “You could have—”

“Shut up and look around,” Seth said, staring at their surroundings. “Notice anything?”

Dmitry finally looked up, his twin expressions shifting in a second from angry to furious-concerned. They were in the kitchen, and apparently the wooden door they had somersaulted out of was the cupboard door under the sink. This was possible because they now possessed a height considerably short of being equal to the kitchen counters.

“Seriously?” Dmitry seethed, glaring up at the surrounding butcher block work surfaces a few inches past his head. He had put both sets of fists on his hips, arms akimbo, in a comical pose of utter indignation. “Seriously?!” he said again.

Seth couldn’t help it. He giggled. The giggles gave way to fits of laughter, and a moment later he was on the floor, overcome with mirth, while Dmitry, hands still on his hips, stared down at him with matching expressions of disgusted disbelief.

Darius swung the big hand he had entwined with Dante’s as they strolled the night-noisy, pine-forested property surrounding the Cavazos family’s strange and mystical retreat. As he walked he enjoyed the cool breeze tweaking his nipples under his heavy pecs and riffling the loose, dark-purple drawstring bottoms that somehow fit him perfectly despite his… unusual dimensions.

He was starting to get the feeling he should be more conscious of his abnormal size and strength. At a now-looming 6-foot-10 in nothing but his bare feet (or at least, so he guessed) and swollen with even more hard, hefty bulk than he’d come up here with, he needed to be constantly aware. It was crazy easy for him to, say, lose track of where his shoulders were, or underestimate his considerably enhanced strength. He didn’t want to make a sudden turn on the sidewalk somewhere and accidentally shove someone through a plate-glass window. And crumpling the doorknob you were trying to turn only wasted everyone’s time.

Actually, he secretly suspected he was a few cranks stronger than he thought he was, even for someone with his height and considerable, extra-dense muscle mass. He felt weirdly infused with massive amounts of raw, latent power, as though every muscle in his body from his delts to his abs to his freakin’ intercostals were saturated through and through with some kind of enhancement fluid, eagerly waiting to activate the moment he exerted himself and magnify his already abnormal strength.

He was pretty sure this was a just-him thing. The others were proportionately bulked up thanks to the seashell artifact in the basement, but he wasn’t feeling like they’d shared the same experience. This level of deep-muscle superstrength felt instinctively his and his alone.

He rubbed his abs lightly with his free hand, as though trying to feel the rippling energy through the skin, reading its ready-for-anything presence in the fine strands of muscle there. It was all packed in, waiting, he thought. He looked around them at the waist-thick trees as he considered his physical change. To all appearances the towering stands were the epitome of solid and immovable, but he was sure he could probably uproot one in a single heave if he wanted.

These realizations had been coming to him along the walk with Dante. As they’d processed an edge of concern asserted itself in his mind, and he’d gingerly weakened his grip on his lover’s hand, suddenly scared of injuring someone not at his level. Dante had responded by squeezing back harder in playful rebuke, not letting Darius pull his strength away from him. Put at ease by Dante’s confidence, Darius had relaxed. His strength was singular, but there was another way to see it that included all of them.

He glanced down now at his hunkified boyfriend. The once-slight difference in their heights had been magnified by recent events to a good four inches. (Had Darius gotten a bit of extra unconscious love in the hot tub when Dante had made them all taller?) Though not nearly at Darius’s behemoth-like level of big-shouldered, tight-waisted, heavy-legged muscularity, in with his other transformations his adorable electrician had gone from fit to built in the course of a single supernatural afternoon, while retaining a markedly different silhouette from Darius. Even before he’d been gangly-muscular next to Darius’s brawny bulk, and now the contrast was, if anything, heightened. Thirty pounds of new muscle, scaled up via the eight-inch increase in height, and even with the thick pecs and wide shoulders the first words you thought of for Dante were “lean” and “tight” (…and then a lot of other words that amounted to “fuck me now”).

Darius? “Big.” “Thick.” “Leviathan.” The fact that he was still as tight-waisted as Dante was lost under the impact of how much the extra helpings of muscle made him look wide, not just tall.

Still, Dante was bigger, too, in that lean and lanky kind of way. The swell of muscle growth they’d gotten had given them all extra muscle density, so they were probably all stronger. Dante, here, could handle more than he looked like he could.

Darius was certain he had more of this gift than the rest. It felt expected, somehow. It was like… all of the improvements they’d experienced had a natural focal point within the group. It came to him now that there was always someone who moderated and facilitated their experience of that enhancement, even if they didn’t see it. Evan declaring himself Scrotum Master, only for Enrique to take on this role when they’d forcibly swapped bodies, wasn’t the anomaly it had seemed at the time. So what about the rest of the changes?

The cocks, for example. Darius considered what he had seen and experienced. A lot of what had happened with the proliferation and swapping around of their cocks had been instigated by Seth, he realized. Darius had felt tingling in his cocks just from Seth looking them over admiringly, and that was even before he’d been aware that he, Dante, and Seth were in a passionate threesome. And Seth was the only one whose cocks hadn’t changed size in the kylix—every one of the Seth-cocks was a long, hard, perfect ten-incher, just like the original.

He could sense Seth’s unconscious presence in his cocks even now, thanks to their three-way bond. He could feel the others, too—they were all connected through the chain of multi-orgasms they experienced together—but Seth was more prominent. A stray thought from him about wanting to pleasure Darius and Dante was like a slow caress along his lightly-chubbed shafts.

He liked that. Maybe the three of them could try thought-sex some time. It could be like phone sex, only physical and empathic. They could do it anywhere—in the same room or scattered around the planet. Assuming they kept all of this after this weekend, and Darius was starting to feel like not doing so was pretty much unthinkable.

Okay. So, Seth could be the alpha node in the circle for cocks. Enrique, balls. They knew that. Dante? Darius was guessing, but it seemed like Dante had the lead on shaping their physical, sexual, and emotional fates. If all that checked out, it was not so singular for Darius to feel like he was the focal point for their collective beastly muscle and deceptively magnified strength.

The possibilities fired his imagination. What if he could call on all their strength? Evolve himself through sheer shared willpower into the ultimate protector for the group? Or… or! He might be able to share his strength with them, at will. A mere thought, and he could make (say) Dmitry, just for a moment, ridiculously massive in the pecs or superhero-strong, with all the potential fun consequences such hijinks might entail.

An image came to him, and he snorted in amusement. He pictured Dmitry hard at work, stoically bench-pressing one torso at a time, his short-trimmed platinum hair plastered to his foreheads… only for Darius, hiding in the shadows with an impish grin, to suddenly give him all his strength. All at once Dmitry’s hurling the barbell upward, heavy plates and all, launching the thing straight up through the roof and soaring into the sky, eventually to smash down in some perplexed farmer’s field a mile away like a tractor tossed aside by a passing tornado. Hah! What a look of aggrieved consternation Dmitry would have!

Dante glanced up at Darius’s chortle, a lusty admiration shining in his eyes despite the darkness around them. “Whatcha thinking about, big guy?” he asked, his tone playful and serene.

It might be an obvious choice of nickname, but Darius liked it when Dante and Seth called him “big guy.” It wasn’t that he was smug about being massive, just that his men so obviously dug it. Trimmer, tighter muscle bois like Dante and Seth were made for big arms being wrapped around them.

Darius smiled bashfully, giving his bulky shoulders a light shrug. “Eh. Silly stuff,” he said dismissively. When Dante kept up his inquisitive look he elaborated, “New ways to get Dmitry’s goat.”

Dante barked a laugh. “That’s not tough,” he said with a grin, squeezing Darius’s hand firmly. Darius squeezed back, almost sure he could feel their strength equalizing between them. “It’s like he asks for it just from being—well, him.”

Darius hummed in agreement. Proud, icy, steely-eyed Dmitry seemed perfectly confected to be the butt of lighthearted pranks, japes, and tomfoolery. Annoying Dmitry was how you showed him you loved him. “Should we feel bad for him, then?” he mused, as though pondering an ethical question for the ages.

Dante pushed up his lower lip for a second, considering. “Nah.”

They chuckled.

The two of them walked on in amicable silence, the night insects and a few distant birds filling the living mountain air around them. Though they were intentionally charting a loosely circular path through the moonlit forest that would take them back to the cabin’s western frontage eventually, they were, at the moment, at the apogee of their walk with reference to the cabin, nearly to the boundaries of the Cavazos property.

The trees were large and fairly dense here, though not so close together that Darius couldn’t get through. The soil and pine needles underfoot felt pleasant against his lightly callused soles. He could walk like this forever, hand in hand with his lovers, the mountain air drifting over his mountainous muscles. He realized that his old life was becoming a thin memory, like a half-forgotten storybook, the ink of which was slowly fading into the white of its thin, unremarkable pages.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked quietly after a while. He knew Dante wouldn’t misunderstand him. Not “go back home.” The other “go back.”

Dante shook his head, squeezing their hands again. “No.”

Darius drew in a breath and let it out. After they’d walked a little while longer he said, “You know, if we don’t want people to freak out…”

“I know.” They were going to have to use the hot tub to normalize their new appearance, and Darius could feel Dante’s nervous reticence at the idea. A weekend of erotic larking about with comedy-sized cocks and sexily ridiculous muscle boosts was one thing; but altering reality to make all that normal was not something Dante would undertake lightly. Not that he would shy away in fear, either. His friend and lover was nobody’s coward.

Dante shrugged one well-muscled caramel shoulder. “We got time yet. We don’t really have to be back until Tuesday morning.”

Darius stopped them, turning to face his man and caressing his beautiful, enticingly stubbed face. “You’re not in it alone,” he said earnestly. “Just because you’re the focal point—” Dante lifted his brows at the previously unused term, but did not interrupt. “—doesn’t mean it’s all on you.”

Darius realized he was saying this to himself, too. A focal point, after all, was still part of a larger collective. He made a mental note to share this insight with Enrique and Seth—and maybe Evan and Dmitry, too. It would make sense for all six of them to dominate some aspect of their transformation, creating an overarching balance to their collective journey.

Dante’s warm eyes were almost radiant, more than could be explained by simple moonglow and starlight. He pushed up and gave Darius a brief but dirty kiss that made his swollen cocks twitch in his light cotton pants.

“Your compassion is turning me on,” Dante teased. Darius smiled.

Without hesitation, Dante sank to his knees on the forest floor, pulling Darius’s bottoms down off his hips to pool around his ankles as he went. As if activated by the night air his cocks immediately thickened and grew to full hardness.

Darius stared at them in shock. At some point in the last hour or so since getting out of the hot tub, his tools had changed. Instead of the pink and red 13-incher originally duped from Evan’s prick, and the brown, delicious stubby 5-incher twinned from Dante’s awesomely suckable tool, Darius’s pricks had somehow—averaged out? Inexplicably, he now possessed two nearly identical 9-inchers, both light brown and invitingly blunt, rock-hard and aching to be pleasured above nuts the size of navel oranges.

His whole body felt aflame looking at them, like he was feeling their quivering, cell-deep need all through his brawny form. He realized they no longer felt borrowed, but his, intrinsically and undeniably. Before, they’d all traded cocks, grabbing each other’s cum-ready tools out of the kylix artifact like balls from a bingo cage, and this whole time they’d felt like guests. He’d been more aware of the Darius-cock Dmitry had and the extra ones of his still piled up in the kitchen than he was of the Evan- and Dante-cocks in his own groin. Now, though? Now these raging pricks were his, like they’d been synchronized, confirmed, and locked in, a permanent part of his new, eerily altered fate. How had he not noticed? Had it happened to all of them? It must have, right?

Dante was so awash with desire, he seemed not to notice the change. As soon as Darius’s pricks were hard he dove onto the leftmost one at random, shoving it straight into his throat. Darius grunted loudly and grabbed the nearest pine tree, feeling it shiver under the power of his grip despite the two-foot diameter of its bole. He slid his hand around Dante’s thick nape as Dante deep-throated him, squeezing his thumb along the sensitive ridge where his traps met his neck, and Dante moaned happily into his cocksucking.

Darius’s enormous balls were already surging—he could cum at any time, but he was willing to let Dante set the pace. Dante pulled back, smiling up at him, and then engulfed the other cock, gripping both saliva-wet cocks at the base, and once again it was like he’d never been sucked before. Maybe he hadn’t, with these big, insatiable, all-his dicks. He massaged the back of Dante’s neck, not worrying about his inhuman strength. He and Dante and all the others were one entity, sharing their strength with each other. Darius was just the Muscle Master.

As he sucked, Dante freed his own pricks and was stroking them together one-handed with he focused on Darius’s shafts. Though he’d temporarily lost his cocks to Enrique during the whole thing with the transfer ring, in the fallout of Evan’s humiliation they’d reverted to their previous owner. Now it looked like they, too, had averaged out as a pair of (at the moment) messy, identically thick footlong fucktools.

Darius immediately felt a craving deep in his ass. He didn’t think of himself as a bottom, but he loved being fucked by Dante. He also couldn’t wait to feel Seth deep, deep inside his tight, muscle ass as well.

“Mmmf, Dante,” he urged. Darius wasn’t the one for sex-talk—that was the other guys—but Dante loved it when Darius said his name during sex. The dark forest seemed to stretch endlessly around them in all directions. It was like they were a survey team dumped on a living, verdant world where no men existed but them alone—Darius, Dante, and Seth too, whose sensations mixed with theirs as if Seth were there with them in the woods, rutting his cocks along the inner reaches of the deep, hot crease separating Darius’s hard, round uberglobes of dark, beautiful glutemuscle, mouthing Darius’s neck with his mouth and stroking Dante’s head as he worked his magic with hand. lips, and tongue.

Mischievously, just as he was getting into it Dante pulled back, releasing Darius’s wide cockhead with a squeeze of his lips and a lick. He grinned up at him, need and anticipation warning those sweet brown eyes. “You ready for it, big guy?”

“Please,” Darius whispered.

Slowly, still gripping the bases, Dante slid both 9-inch overlapping boners into his hot, welcoming mouth, his eyes locked on Darius’s the whole time. Darius let out a long, low groan, staring down at him in wonder. “Dannnte…” he hissed through his teeth.

Dante went all the way down and held the stiff, quivering pricks in his mouth for a long moment, prolonging the moment. Finally, Dante closed his eyes and got to work, pleasuring Darius’s excited lengths with lips, tongue, and throat. Meanwhile, his hand slid off the spit-wet bases and cupped the abnormally heavy balls underneath, rolling them lightly on his palm as strong fingers explored his taint. Seth’s remote contributions intensified, and Darius could genuinely feel the heads of Seth’s not-there cocks tripping the edges of his flexing anus as Seth rubbed his heavy pecs over Darius’s barn-wide back.

It was a lot, and it was all good. Almost unbearable levels of overlapping stimulation flooded through Darius’s thick body in waves, his huge balls tightening painfully as his cocks strained against Dante’s tongue and throat.

Darius realized he’d closed his eyes in a rush of multisided carnal bliss and forced them open. He never closed his eyes during sex if he could help it. He wanted to see. He looked down at his hot, hunky, committed man with a swell of pride. Then, as he looked up, his gaze drawing over the empty, black-shrouded night-forest, its rare highlights cast in dark silver from random rays of faint moonlight reaching through the treescape like a world-sized woodcut, he thought he saw—a man?

Even as he stared, Dante and Shadow-Seth redoubled their efforts, overwhelming Darius with a moving wave of hot, torrential rapture. He tried to hold his focus. He was faintly visible, a mere transparent suggestion of a man against the black of night in the inky shadows of the trees, and yet Darius was sure he could feel his beauty.

It was a big man, bigger than Darius in height and bulk, yet his colossal muscles were somehow still perfectly proportioned, a one-ton manifestation of ideal classical physique but with all the faders on the board pushed hard to the absolute limits of their ranges. And, speaking of hard… the gorgeous, almost eerily handsome, impossibly swole specter of a man was not only naked but aroused, his cock so massive that it outstripped his taut waist in girth and nearly passed his scalp in towering height. There was only one wide, menhir-like shaft, leaning slightly to the left, but it looked like from the generous foreskin there emerged two slippery, jostling cockheads, like two big men were sharing a tight sleeping bag together.

It was hard to see—Darius still wasn’t sure how much was there and how much his brain was extrapolating from barely visible hints—but it looked like the man was watching Darius and Dante and getting himself off as he did so, stroking his enormous tool with… both hands…? No, it more more than “both”… at least four large, strong hands were working that stone-hard monster.

Well, yeah. For a beast that size you’d need four hands…

Dante swallowed Darius’s cocks, and he had to consciously loosen his grip on Dante’s nape as he let a series of loud, unrestrained moans out into the forest. White hot liquid fire filled his balls and his mind in the same instant. Too soon, the moment of no return had borne down on him and he couldn’t hold back. “Dante… I’m going to—”

Dante quickened his deft multi-directional oral pleasuring of Darius’s jockeying tools, at the same time amping up his pistoning on his own heftier pricks. Shadow-Seth, behind him, picked up the pace as well, doing everything with his dicks but actually pushing into his tight, whimpering ass. In seconds, Darius was brought to a shuddering brink.

He let himself fall, cumming massively down Dante’s throat even as Dante came in twin jets of hot cum all over Darius’s hairy legs and the pine-needle-covered forest floor beyond. After all the multi-orgasms, a climax shared just between the three of them felt oddly personal. Though they could still feel the connections to the others, for the first time in a while the intensity of their hyped-up climax was just for them. “Them” included Seth, who had joined them in their sweet release wherever he was, and the pleasure had swirled between the three of them, much greater and wilder a pleasure-tempest than any normal one-man release.

Darius had liked the multi-orgasms, a lot, but he was plenty fine with this arrangement, too. He wondered if the new setup was permanent. Maybe they’d have to swap cocks around the kylix to get it all like it was before, but there wasn’t much motivation in him to start everything over. He liked sharing orgasms just between himself and his men. Anyway, Enrique could definitely make them all cum in a single six-man hyperstacked daylong cumfest, if he wanted.

Darius spared a tiny stray thought amid the tumult for the impossibly hot and hung watcher—was he cumming, too, spraying gallons of cum from his beach ball nuts out the twin slit of his double-headed dick?—but the question was soon lost in the flood and swept away clean out of his mind as the orgasm tore through him.

Finally the pleasure subsided into a warm, comforting euphoria. Darius was slumping against Dante, and he dropped to his knees in front of his lover and began sharing a long, cummy kiss as their hearts trip-hammered in sync with each other and their still-raging pricks squeezed out their last bits of cum.

Long moments passed, uncounted and unremarked. They were holding each other, sweaty and sated as they knelt together, surrounded by nothing but the noisy, living forest. No sign of their proud, hyperdicked, perfect-physiqued watcher remained in the shadows, and already the memory was fragmenting like soap film washing toward the drain. Soon the lingering spirit with the leaky double-headed man-sized tool was gone from Darius’s mind.

He realized he could feel Dante grinning, brimming with happiness. “You know, I’ll just need to do that again in an hour or two,” he murmured in Darius’s ear.

Darius pulled back and kissed him as Dante idly stroked the orbs of his heavy pecs, letting Dante know he was good with that.

When they broke the kiss, Dante added, “I think Seth came, too.”

Darius nodded. “Wonder what he was up to,” he said, lips quirking in a half smirk.

Dante wiggled his eyebrows. “Hopefully something dirty,” he said, before pouncing on Darius, pushing him back onto the ground and kissing him senseless.

“Why are you cumming,” Dmitry asked flatly, his tone more accusing than curious.

Seth wanted to laugh. He was panting and sweaty as he knelt on the kitchen floor spattering gouts of cum all over the oven door. Already he’d sprayed so much jizz over the thing that the window you looked through was completely coated, like he’d been deliberately trying to obscure it to prevent people from seeing if the roast was done or the soufflé had fallen. He shuddered out a laugh as his cocks gushed out another high-pressure blast—any harder and he might dent the metal. He might be a literal halfling now compared to his previous stature, but he still could do some serious damage.

He smiled, enjoying the tripartite pleasure flowing through him and Darius and Dante, the three of them climaxing together after a sensuous bout of lovemaking he’d been present for in spirit, if not in form. He kind of wanted to run out into the woods and find his guys and wallow in the afterglow together, then go for round two.

He knew the guys didn’t know about his new size—it had seemed like his shadow-form out in the woods was full height, like his soul was the real “him” or whatever, not his present size—and he also knew they’d love it and find it hot. He came again as he imagined the kind of things could do with his downsized bod, the rush of pleasure melting his brain just a little.

“You three are having sex, aren’t you,” Dmitry said, still sounding like he was reporting the latest headlines on the Pessimism News Channel.

Seth panted out a laugh as a last, impressively strong double-surge of cum arced out of his dicks and splattered over the white-painted oven doors. He let himself huff for a moment, his heart steadying but still fast from the climax, then wiped the stray cum off his cocks and pulled his midnight-blue drawstring bottoms back up, the oversensitive skin of his half-hard pricks trailing pleasantly against the inside of the fabric. With a shove on his thighs to help himself up he got to his feet, feeling sated and energized all at once.

He turned to face Dmitry, who was giving him his usual stony expression. The two-torsoed man looked unreachable and utterly pristine, like he’d just been carved from the finest white marble the night before. It struck Seth as funny how much of a mess he was in comparison, his lithe-muscled form not only sweaty and cummy but flushed red from his monster orgasm. He’d been compared to a human cock before, and not just because his physique had been reminiscent of a thick, man-sized hard-on. He was more built now, so the analogy was less apt, but he still reddened all over like a dick whenever he came.

He remembered the pile of dicks from the kylix. Some were massive, double or triple the original size. The biggest were probably half as big as he was, now. If he went through the passage again, would he get his height cut in half a second time? Then he could use one of those huge, hard dicks like a full-body pillow. That was funny.

Or—was there a way to be one of the dicks? Like—like a body swap, or something? There had to be an artifact like that in the cabin. This place had everything, at least when it came to phallophilia and general man-sex.

That would be wild. What would it be like, swapping like that and becoming a huge, hard, man-sized dick? Fuck, what would orgasms be like if you were an actual, human-scale wang?

Hmm, he’d have to get Dante back to the hot tub and make some of this happen. Maybe he could trick him into saying certain things without realizing. Would the hot tub recognize reality-altering commands from Dante if they were in Klingon?

Dmitry folded his arms over both his chests, staring at Seth twice over with obvious disapproval. Seth couldn’t help laughing. He must be trolling him, right? He knows how goofy he looks when he goes all stern, and does it for the entertainment value. Right? What was especially funny was how the limited space between the two torsos and the disproportionate thickness of Dmitry’s balloon-like pecs meant that the rear torso had to lean back a little to be able to cross his pale, thick-chiseled rear arms over them.

Seth closed the distance between them and slapped the side of Dmitry’s meaty front biceps. Seth’s pulse was slowing to normal, but he was still experiencing the heavy mutual afterglow, mixing reality and a kind of true, out-of-body fantasy. Actually, the connection seemed a little stronger now than before. He realized the sensations he was feeling in his mouth were Darius and Dante languidly making out. Nice.

“I’m glad we were,” he told Dmitry with a smirk, “and not just because it was a hell of a ride. Did you notice your dicks, ice man?”

Dmitry tightened his gaze on Seth. He hadn’t climbed down from his double folded-arms of disapproval pose, despite the fact that it had to be slightly uncomfortable. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, look at your dicks, dude,” Seth said.

Dmitry frowned. Reluctantly, he unbent his folded arms, letting the rear ones fall to his side as he used his thumbs to pull the waistband of his dark brown pants away from his hard-carved lower abdomen. His scowl deepened and he hauled the pants down below his balls, exposing two hard cocks that were now exactly the same and completely Dmitry’s in every way, just as had been the case for Seth.

Originally, before this weekend, Dmitry had possessed a true beast of a cock, a double-thick raging monster that looked even bigger than the 12 inches it topped out at. Most guys would kill for a cock that size, but Dmitry had not been impressed. All it ever did was get in the way, apparently, dipping into the toilet water and creating an unsightly ginormous bulge when soft, and turning him into an embarrassed spectacle whenever he got even a little hard in public. As soon as the chance to swap dicks of various sizes had come up, he’d made sure the ones he got were much more modest, one at 4 inches and the other 3½.

At first they’d been reduced-size copies of Darius’s and Evan’s dicks respectively, neither matching each other or Dmitry in color, design, and appearance. Now, though, all that had changed: the two five-inch stiffies pointing straight outward from Dmitry’s crotch were identical in every way, and aesthetically and physically looked like the ice king had been born with them. All of the guys had gone up a few sizes in the nuts department, too, and Dmitry’s larger-than-normal balls made the two five-inchers look still more demure.

Seth winced, remembering their current situation. He was used to eyeballing dick size from experience, naturally using normal human proportions as a referent. Now the two of them were half that—no, less. They’d grown in the direction of 7 feet tall before in the hot tub, though Seth wasn’t sure how far they had gotten. Post-portal, they were barely the height of the kitchen counters—say, under three feet tall. Proportionately, Dmitry’s dicks were around 5 inches on a normal guy, but they had to be something like 2½ inches now.

Anyway, it was reassuring to see that the averaging out, dick-conforming thing had happened to someone else. As soon as he’d pulled down his bottoms to cum he’d noticed his dicks, copied and upgraded from the two Cavazos brothers, had evened out to twin 10-inchers (or, the proportionate equivalent) and with his coloring and level of veininess—including his usual trick of pale-white-to-redness transformation as he came.

Dmitry kept staring down at his junk with his front head, but lifted his back head to give Seth a cold stare. “What did you do?” he asked.

“Me? I’m not in charge of the dicks,” Seth said. Even as he said it he felt an odd twinge, like he was telling a lie, but he set the thought aside and pressed on. “I felt the same thing from Dante and Darius. That probably means all six of us got it.” Without meaning to, Seth glanced up at the ceiling and the upstairs where Enrique and the mouth-cocked, cluster-crotched Evan were presumably going at it. All of Evan’s dicks were the same, but Enrique (in possession of what had once been Evan’s body) had a big one and a really big one before. He kind of wanted to see how they looked averaged out.

Dmitry was still looking at him. Seth shrugged. “It happened since the hot tub,” he said reasonably. “If we caught another artifact that hit all of us equally, the leading suspect in my mind would be… the pants.”

Dmitry looked up at him in alarm, which meant now both sets of eyes were staring at him. Then both were looking down at the pants, the waistband of which was still hooked under Dmitry’s thumbs. It was really pretty funny. Dmitry could have been a silent film star, doing one-reel comedies to compete with Keaton, Lloyd, and Arbuckle. Specialty: the double double-take. The ice man would clean up.

Dmitry looked like he was about the shove the pants off him like they were a big dangerous snake made out of brown-dyed Egyptian cotton or something. Seth put his hand on his forearm. “Relax,” he said. “It’s already done whatever it’s going to do.” Seth wasn’t a hundred percent sure on that point, but the effects were benign enough that it was definitely more important to calm Dmitry down.

Calm, however, wasn’t Dmitry’s roll. Snatching the pants back up over his hips, he stalked angrily past Seth. Seth turned to see he was headed for the cupboard under the sink that they’d emerged out of a few moments before. “I just want this part of it to be over,” Dmitry groused, flinging open the cupboard door and bending to climb inside.

Seth followed and stood outside the cupboard, folding his arms over his chest in deliberate emulation of his friend. As Seth had suspected, there was no sign of any portal inside the under-sink space. Just plywood, the U-bend, a set of red- and blue-coded plumbing shutoff valves in the back, and an old can of Bon Ami cleanser that looked like a relic of the 1950s.

“Where the fuck is it?” Dmitry said as he knocked fruitlessly on the back wall of the cupboard. He was agitated enough to speak with both voices.

“I don’t think we can go back this way,” Seth said calmly.

Dmitry slowly rounded on him. He looked more frustrated than angry, now. “What, then?”

Seth shrugged again. “Go back downstairs and look at the portal again? Maybe there’s a clue there about how to control it.”

Dmitry set his mouths in a grim line. He gestured for Seth to lead the way, and together they headed for the basement stairs for a second time.

Going down the steps wasn’t quite as easy at this height, but they made it to the cellar without incident. When they got there, what he saw brought Seth up short, with Dmitry close behind him, his hand on Seth’s bare shoulder.

“Is that… us?” he said softly.

It was an inane question, but that wasn’t what Seth had meant, anyway. Frozen in place just inside the door of the portal, as if trapped in a still frame of a movie, were the crystal-clear, unmoving full-size figures of himself and Dmitry.

It was very clearly the two of them. The real question, the one he was too afraid to ask, was: “Is that the real us?”

They let the scene sink in for several moments, digesting what they were seeing. Finally, Dmitry said, “We should try to get them out.”

Seth turned his head to look over his shoulder at Dmitry. His faces were full of existential apprehension and steely determination, all at once. His ice-blue eyes were eerily luminous in the gloom of the cellar.

They shared a long look, then Seth turned back to the frozen spectacle before them. “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go rescue ourselves!”

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