Chad had thought he was fully erect before, when his massive tool was big enough that lying back in his chair was all it took for dollops of sweet precum to drip right into his open mouth. But now—fuck. He wasn’t sure if it was just visualizing Barry and Jake fucking each other like gods, or if some external pulse had punched up his arousal again—all he knew was that he was sitting there crouched just slightly over his tool, mouthing and licking the head and slowly driving himself insane, when his massive, towering, but still slightly languid cock suddenly stiffened to iron hard erection and shoved to its ultimate length, rocketing up straight into his mouth and almost down his throat, and fattening to such a prodigious girth that he wasn’t sure his dick wasn’t lodged in his maw forever, wedged in without a hope of being pried out. Chad wouldn’t have minded even a little.
He moaned against his enormous, mouth-filling erection, feeling the vibrations of his vocalization shiver through his incredibly sensitive cockflesh so that his balls surged and his body flew just from this one, slight stimulation. He moved his lips and tongue ever so slightly and felt so much pleasure it was like an orgasm without actually cumming. Chad was torn between a desire to prolong this feeling indefinitely, unceasingly, to just become this constant savoring of exhilaration, and an increasingly urgent need screaming up from his sloshing, oversized balls to cum like no one had ever cum before. Fuck, he wanted both. He wanted to edge himself through eternity, and he wanted to cum, now.
Fuck, what would his cum taste like? The thought alone pushed him closer to the edge. He’d never tasted his cum before, though he knew Jake loved it. Jake sprayed his own cum in his mouth whenever he was horny enough to shoot onto his face, which was every hour of every day…
And that was before.
Once again, all it took was his own memory of how Jake’s already extreme libido had started pulsing out from him, and Chad was hurtled right up to the edge. He began making love to the inches of massive dick that were shoved into his mouth with throat and lips and tongue, even as he raised his hands to clasp the rigid shaft in his inadequate grip. One stroke, one suck, and suddenly his balls were erupting and impossible quantities of cum were geysering up his arm-sized shaft and shooting mercilessly down his throat even as every fiber of his body was suffused with inhuman ecstasy. Unable to keep up with the relentless emission of seed shooting out of him he pulled off his monster tool with some difficulty and collapsed in sweaty, flushed erotic rapture against his chair as his face-high shaft fountained more and more cum, each shot alone a new, electric flood of pleasure as powerful as ten orgasms.
He collapsed, utterly spent and sated, as his cock finally subsided to little aftershock spurts and his heart gradually stopped slamming against his chest like it wanted to get out. It was only as his surrounding swam into focus around him again that he realized the ringing he’d been hearing wasn’t in his head. He looked around blearily, his eyes finally settling on the handset for the booth landline. A small light was blinking above it, synchronized with the ringing, for those occasions when the ringer in the booth was turned off. He frowned at this—the power had blown, he remembered that, just before everything went black. As he sat forward with an effort and reached to pick it up, his enormous, cum-drenched cock, now-reverted to the semi-hard, chin-high state he’d thought had been his new erection, wobbled and swayed before slapping him wetly against the jaw. Chad fought off an urge to sink it back into his mouth and picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he said, carefully tucking the handset under his newly bulging, jizz-slicked and bare-naked shoulder—how had he gotten naked?—and then decided that, having said what he needed to, he could slip his cock into his mouth where it belonged after all. He slid the head and a few inches of his not-fully-erect erection into his hot mouth and felt the deep, gut-level satisfaction of someone resuming his natural state, relaxing into the way he was meant to be. He lifted his hands and started caressing his newly grown pecs, letting his fingers tease his nipples every now and again, even thought every touch sent an electric jolt through him so strong he had to suppress a gasp each time.
“Holbrooke? Is that you?” barked an angry young voice down the line.
“Mmm,” Chad hummed in affirmation around his cock. He flicked a nipple and felt his cock thrust into his mouth. Not hard, not yet, but Chad was thrilled to realize he could get hard in a second, even now after he’d just blasted out all the cum in the universe. He flicked the nipple again, taunting himself, and had to shove back a low moan.
“Why aren’t you broadcasting?” the voice on the line was saying. “I just clicked over to our internet streaming site and there’s nothing but an empty studio!” Chad almost laughed. That must have brought their viewership back up to one.
Chad realized whom he must be talking to. Delavan, Chad thought. Or more specifically, Delavan Jr., the owner’s son. He ought to have known—no one else but the owners called him by his last name like that. Chad made a point of doing the same. He pictured Delavan Jr. and felt his dick surge a little in his mouth as a tingle of new arousal shot through him. He was about Chad’s age, built but with a baby face so he looked like a smooth, hard muscle twink. Chad had beat off more than once imagining Delavan Jr.—his favorite fantasy involved the angry boy-hunk undressing in front of a board room of bland executives, shedding suit jacket, tie, shoes, dress shirt, slacks, and finally black boxer-briefs while shouting angry sales projections at them, while the men and women around the table all somehow failed to notice that that their junior executive was buck naked and raging hard in front of them. Chad’s balls roiled and he had to swallow a little mini-eruption of cum before pulling his mouth off his dick with an audible pop. “Power blew,” he explained shortly before wrapping his hot mouth around his cock again. Damn, his dick so belonged in there.
“I know that, Holbrooke,” Delavan Jr. responded testily. Chad amused himself imagining the young, hot-tempered muscle twink exec sitting ensconced in a king-sized bed in his lavish apartment bedroom, jacking a stiff, ten-inch cock while he dressed down his employees over the phone. Not the first time he’d pictured that, either. It was kind of amusingly hot, especially now that he could imagine that the man was stroking to the mental image of Chad as he sat there now, sucking idly his own delicious, achingly gratifying, super-large cock. “I already reset the breakers remotely,” the voice sneered at him. “So why aren’t you back on the air? Where’s your on-shift announcer?”
Pop. “Barry… had to leave,” he said. Which was true. He resumed mouthing his cock. How did this feel so good?
“Then get the next shift in!” Delavan Jr. ordered. “Don’t make me come down there!”
“Mm-mm,” Chad assented around his cock, but the man had already hung up. Chad amused himself picturing him getting out of bed in a huff and struggling into his suit despite being aroused and fully hard. Standing at the elevator fuming while a small wet spot developed in his slacks at the end of his still erect dick. Chad chuckled around his dick as he hung up the landline and reached for his own cell phone.
When he unlocked the screen the phone displayed the text conversation he’d been having with Jake, before Jake had gotten so aroused by what he was seeing on his TV that he’d come down to the studio in just his pajama bottoms. Jake. Jake and Barry. Fuck, he almost got hard again. He pushed his arousal back somehow and texted, “you guys okay?”
Chad wasn’t really expecting a response, but a couple of seconds later Jake texted back a simple and very characteristic “duuuuuude”. Just the black pixels on white seemed to slosh over him with Jake’s newly irresistible sexuality, like the potency of Jake’s presence was so extreme it poured even through a phone screen. It felt like texting his buddy, only his buddy was the ocean, and the response made him soaking wet like the whole Pacific had been dumped over his head.
Then Chad felt a whole new wash of arousal as Jake followed up, “come find us dude”.
Fuck, he didn’t want to lose it again this soon. Don’t imagine it, he told himself sternly. Even so his cock swelled a little, ready to pull out the stops and blow up to massive, raging, rampant, throat-pushing Chad-erection. Chad somehow mercilessly pushed it down to a simmering, all-saturating, transporting arousal. He wanted to keep focus on what he was doing for at least a few minutes at a time—and he really, really loved the idea of going about his job and living his life with his semi-hard, almost-erect cock in his mouth 24/7. It felt almost like a challenge, and one Chad was almost desperate to make happen. He kind of never wanted to not have his dick in his mouth ever again. Only—fuck, there was no “kind of” about it.
He texted “later” to Jake. That would have to be enough. Jake texted back, “soon”. And then, “barry’s hot for u” followed by “and so am i”, with a winky face. Fuck, even his winky face felt like it had a boner.
Chad texted, “come find me if you want it so bad”, then shifted over to his contacts. He found the entry for the next shift’s announcer, Kenny. He started a text, though he doubted the guy would even be awake at this hour—it wasn’t even five a.m. yet. “can u come in right now?” he texted, adding, “we’ve got dead air and need u immediately”.
He’d barely sent the second line before the response shot back: “omg be right there!”
Chad grinned around his shaft. He sure was an eager chipmunk. And, evidently, a morning person. A new text from Jake came in: “dude kinda busy, met some new buds”, which made Chad’s heart start to pound harder again, especially when that was followed by “we’ll come find u l8r tho” and another winky face.
That did it. In seconds Chad was all the way turned on again, like a whole wall of switches, banks and banks of them, had been thrown all at once, sending a zillion volts of sexual current coursing through him like it was his true life’s blood. His expanding erection instantly filled his mouth almost to the point of choking, but the escalated sensitivity he experienced as his thickening tool slid along his tongue and palate was such a rush he almost blacked out in mega-orgasm from the mere act of getting completely, utterly hard inside the sheath of his hot, hungry mouth. He moaned loud around his raging megatool, reveling in the louche, intoxicating euphoria that came from just being this aroused, this hard—not even taking into account how bone-meltingly good it felt just to slide his tongue gently against the taut, throbbing, heated flesh of his enormous cock along the sensitive crease just below the head, even as his lips wrapped harder around the wide, fat shaft. He moaned again, louder, and tossing his phone down on the desk with a clatter he wrapped both hands around his towering, girder-hard, double-thick cock, the very touch of his warm palms in the cool engineers’ booth and the grip of his long fingers against desperate, cum-slick flesh sending him soaring, filled beyond capacity with raw, seething pleasure. He wished he had more hands to wrap around his too-big erection—and more hands still to feel up his tingling, newly swole muscles… and more still to flick and twist his amazingly responsive, super-sensitive nipples.
It only took him a few quick strokes to send him careening toward the edge. His cock pushed against his throat, once, twice, and then a third time before shoving its way through, and as he swallowed around the head for the first time Chad marveled to discover a level of stimulation he’d never even dreamed of. Instantly he was exploding in release, his churning balls sending crazy amounts of spend surging up his rigid, pounding shaft. Chad loved the feel of it shooting right down his throat, but there was something his wanted to experience even more, and he struggled a bit to pull his mouth off his immovable cock. He barely had a chance to enjoy the sight of his fist-sized head split by a surreally long slit before more geysers of cum soared out of his cock, covering his delighted face with shot after shot of white hot jizz.
No sooner had Chad fallen back against his chair again, completely spent, than he heard a pleasant tenor voice coming over the speakers. “Uh, hello? Excuse me?”
Chad blinked a few times and wiped the cum away from his eyes as he sat forward, looking for the source of the voice. On the monitors he saw Kenny, the trim, floppy-haired morning-shift announcer Delavan Jr. had hired because, apparently, he liked ’em dark haired, bright-eyed, caramel-skinned, and even more adorably foxy than he was himself (or would be, if he ever un-knotted his brows and let loose a smile or two). Kenny was dressed in a maroon band shirt with a blazer over it and fresh blue jeans above slightly battered Vans, which was spot on for the visual aesthetic the owners were going for. He was currently shading his eyes from the lights and trying to look for the window into the booth, but these facilities didn’t have the usual glass partition separating the engineering space from the studio proper, so everything was done with cameras and monitors instead.
Not seeing what he was looking for, Kenny took a quick look around at the studio space and found the gaffer-tape X on the scuffed floor that indicated where the announcers were supposed to stand. As he took his mark his tennis shoes stuck to the floor, making Kenny wince, much to Chad’s amusement. “Is this where you want me?” Kenny asked loudly, addressing the studio in general. Oh, I’ll tell you where I want you, Chad thought with an inward chuckle. Chad generally liked muscley guys to grope and fuck, but guys like Kenny, in his experience, kissed like a dream, and gave head like a god. Fuck, if he could have both in one man, he’d be all in.
Chad released his cock, which had receded to its ordinary, mostly hard, chin-high hugeness. His heart was still rabbiting from the outstanding orgasm he’d just experienced. “Yeah, Kenny, that’s great,” he said into the gooseneck, now piping into the studio itself in the absence of an earpiece—god knew where Barry’s was at this point. Bending forward to activate the mic made his cock brush along his jaw and lower cheek, probably painting a line through the incredible quantities of still-warm cum he’d doused himself with only a few seconds earlier, and Chad rubbed his jaw across the head again deliberately, feeling the barely discernable friction of his emerging stubble through the layers of jizz. “Thanks for coming in,” he added. Chad meant it, too, though not because he cared whether this stupid channel was actually broadcasting content. He was already eyeing the revisualizer. It was on and powered up, waiting for his curious fingers to start tweaking dials again.
“It’s a little messy out here,” Kenny said in an undertone, looking down and shifting his weight uncomfortably (though he seemed to be avoiding actually lifting his feet and the sound effects that would come with that.) Chad bet it smelled a bit funky too, though Kenny was probably too polite to bring it up.
“Don’t worry about that,” Chad said briskly. He keyed in the sequences on the keyboard in front of him that would start the automatic feed to the studio teleprompters, sliding his bristly, cummy jaw along his cockhead as he did so. “You’re already live,” he said into his mic, “so go ahead and begin when ready.” He flicked the mic off and gratefully slid his mouth down around his cock again, with the satisfaction of a man sliding his dick where it belonged.
“Oh! Okay,” Kenny said, looking around and finding where his copy was being projected for him in front of the two fixed-position cameras. “Um… ‘Killing the Dragon’ is the ninth studio album by the American heavy metal band Dio. It was released—”
As Kenny carried on reading random, inane, and completely useless information in an admittedly pleasing and very engaging voice, Chad allowed his monologue to fade into the background as he turned back the strange and wondrous piece of equipment that sat, pert and seemingly innocent, amidst the more traditional equipment of the engineers’ booth. If his mouth weren’t already occupied he would have licked his lips, so he settled, if you could call it that, for the insane pleasure of licking the sensitive underhead of his cock. He let a shudder run through him and then, pulse quickening, he reached for the settings dial.
Then he froze for a second, his fingers wavering just shy of the main knob as he registered its having reset itself all the way back to zero, the standby position—even though Chad knew that he had left it switched to “8”, just past halfway through the 15 available stops. This was a completely manual rotary control knob, complete with spring-loaded detents that made a discernable clunk as you turned from one option to the next. Chad knew the second dial, which had more softly detented stops, had turned itself to wherever it needed to be to reflect Barry’s current state in accordance with whatever stop the main dial had been on, but Chad hadn’t thought about that.
…And he wasn’t going to think about it now, either. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know there was something… occult about this device, and he was a lot more interested in the possibilities it had in store for the good-looking but underdeveloped young man currently telling their nonexistent audience about the band Dio’s connections to Jack Black. He glanced up at the big monitor. Somehow Kenny was finding a way to convey this banal information engagingly enough you could pretend, if the audio were down, that he was telling an interesting story, complete with a storyteller’s facial expressions and subtle hand gestures to draw you in. Chad grasped the knob and, very deliberately, turned it all the way to “9” before looking back up sat the large master preview monitor.
The caption read: MUSCLE. Chad hummed delightedly, and the near-erection filling his mouth squeezed and flexed with anticipation.
Chad remembered that the third setting had been BUFFNESS, and even turned up to ten that had gifted Barry with the physique of a fitness model rather than hulking muscle mass. This setting, Chad guessed, must bestow serious muscle. He looked over at the second knob and huffed a warm laugh around his quivering dick. The second dial was only set to “3”.
As before he first tried turning the dial downward just to see what would happen. On the monitor, the change wasn’t as obvious as it had been for Barry, thanks to that damned blazer, but he could see the shoulders and arms seemed to become looser on him as he dialed down to “2” and then, devastatingly, to “1”. At that setting, Kenny’s chest almost seemed shrunken, and he could definitely see the way the jeans hung loose and empty around what must now be toothpick legs.
Kenny faltered but then resumed his careful performance of the drab text—he, too, had had it drilled into him be the owners that ceasing the flow of words was the only unforgivable sin in this studio. Chad quickly dialed Kenny back up to “3” and then… kept going, more slowly now, hitting “4”, then “5”, then “6”.
At this point Kenny was seriously built from head to toe. His neck was thick, his shoulders broad, and his chest pushed out impressively, stretching the maroon band tee just taut enough to show a single horizontal wrinkle in the middle of his pecs. Powerful thighs and calves filled his jeans, and his upper arms looked backed into that blazer. Kenny pondered pushing the dial higher, maybe driving all the way to “10” in one go just to see if it tore his clothes apart… but Chad suspected that bursting out of your clothes was more fun to imagine than to experience. More to the point, Kenny looked amazing at this level of super-muscularity, like he’d been working out two or three hours a day since he could lift his first barbell. With a face that cute and boyish he looked absolutely delicious. Chad felt like his body temperature rose a degree or two just drinking him in.
Kenny coughed, took in a deep breath that expanded his newly grown chest, and then doggedly kept going, fingers flexing slightly as he warmed to a new topic. He was talking now about dragons in the works of Ursula K. Le Guin, so at least the automatic feed’s tangent-following algorithm was still going strong. Chad kept his fingers on the second dial. He was sorely tempted to at least try “7” even if he wasn’t going to push all the way to “10”; but he restrained himself, not least because the “6” setting looked so amazingly perfect on Kenny and he didn’t want to change it any further. It wasn’t exactly subtle—no, Kenny’s muscle hugeness was a step or two beyond subtle. But Chad was so turned on, and so in love with just the idea of making the already sexy Kenny even hotter, that he didn’t even need to go for the extremes with him.
Chad couldn’t wait to see what the next settings had in store for him.
Chad switched the main dial to the tenth setting and looked up at the monitor. The caption read: BEARD.
Interesting. Would Kenny’s exquisite biracial features look better or worse with a bit more facial hair? He glanced over at the second dial. To his surprise it was at zero, and he realized this setting must control actual beard length, not thickness. Kenny was clean-shaven at the moment, so of course it was at the no-beard-at-the-moment setting.
Without changing anything he stepped the main dial up to “11” and, sure enough, the caption for that setting was BEARD THICKNESS. Mouthing his hot, leaky cock happily, Chad quickly switched back to the previous setting and began dialing slowly up from zero. By setting “3” Kenny had a short and neatly trimmed but sparse beard around his mouth and along his jaw, ranging only a little way up his cheeks and a bit patchy in places. Certain that a close-cropped beard would complement and frame Kenny’s exquisite face, but any longer would take away from it, Chad switched back up to the higher setting and started dialing up, watching with satisfaction as the short beard filled in and thickened, until the now thickly-muscled Kenny was not only cute but handsome, too, at the same time.
Setting “12”, as Chad was not too surprised to see, was BODY HAIR, though he hadn’t expected that the boyish Kenny was already at a “6”. He dialed it up just a bit more, through “7” and “8”, stopping there when a vanguard of dark follicles left the shelter of Kenny’s jacket sleeves and made a tentative push up the backs of Kenny’s hands. He dialed back to “7” and the hair mostly retreated. Kenny, still discoursing on dragons in literature, absently scratched at his close, dark beard and continued without missing a beat, the thick muscles of his upper arms bunching and straining in his jacket, spiking another rush of arousal through a Chad increasing drawn to the beautiful, brawny man on the big monitors before him.
The next setting, EXHIBITIONISM, took him completely off-guard.
Chad stared thoughtfully at the caption, and Kenny behind it, for a few moments, milking his pre-leaking dick as he did so. All of these settings were about physical attributes, even LIBIDO. They were also about the effect these attributes had on others. The changes weren’t just about what happened on the screen, they were also about how changing the physical and carnal allure of the man impacted on the person watching. What would happen if sweet, unassuming Kenny became more willing to show off his body? What would happen if Kenny kept his humility while at the same time sharing his remarkable physical beauty with the people who hungered to see it? Chad’s cock thickened a little, and his balls seemed to swell. He wanted Kenny’s radiance not to be held back. And he knew, especially after seeing Barry and Jake, that confidence meant knowing he was admired. If Chad ramped up Kenny on this setting, Kenny would know exactly for whom he was putting on a show.
He glanced at the current position of the second dial. It was at a “4”—higher than he’d have guessed. Probably this meant that Kenny dressed modestly but in clothes he knew weren’t unflattering, like the blazer, tee-short, and new jeans he was wearing now. He knew he looked pretty decent, and was aware at some level that he had an admirer not far away with a pounding heart, a thickening cock, and a slow-burning desire to force himself off the sidelines and into the fucking game.
If Kenny was going to put on a show, though…
For the first time, he started dialing the main known downward, heading for the settings that had transformed Barry—and Jake, and, thanks to Jake’s already intense libido being boosted to the point of a neutron bomb, himself as well.
He switched back down through the ones he’d newly discovered. Through body hair. The beard settings. Muscle. COCK SIZE.
He took in a huge gasp around his own impossible, mostly erect tool. Kenny’s number on this setting was already a “6”. Right now, Kenny had a bigger cock than Barry had before he’d dialed Barry up, though Barry by that time had been permanently hard and spitting jizz onto the undersides of his pecs whereas Kenny’s equipment was still a tight lump packaged away behind the fly of his dark blue jeans.
Let’s give him a bit more to show off, Chad thought to himself. His rigid cock seemed hotter in his mouth, and the precum he was leaking in a steady stream down his throat seemed hotter, too, and saltier, as if he were already in a flushed state of partial, low-grade orgasm. He started turning the second knob. Up, little by little. By the time he got to “8” Chad could see a mighty bulge. Kenny, as surreptitiously as he could, reached down and quickly adjusted himself, but Chad wasn’t done yet. At “9” Kenny’s breath caught and he stumbled over a sentence about various kinds of fantasy-novel dragonriders. At “10” Kenny grunted aloud and gave his now-overstuffed crotch an involuntary thrust.
Chad was watching Kenny so intently on the big monitor that he hadn’t realized he’d kept twisting the second knob past “10”, but when Kenny let out another, more uncontrolled grunt and turned his back to the camera to try and shove his junk around, Chad glanced sharply back at the control device. In his eagerness, and maybe with whatever additional strength he’d gained as a result of the whammy’s Jake’s libido had done on his own muscles, Chad had somehow forced the second knob past the final marking, “10”, into an unmarked space beyond the highest setting. Chad’s cock started to get truly hard in his mouth again as he realized he had truly taken Kenny’s cock up to eleven!!
He tried twisting the knob back from the overdrive position, but it wouldn’t budge. The Revisualizer was now stuck with its quantification now lodged firmly at 11 out of 10.
Without thinking, Chad clicked the main knob down on the suddenly troublesome machine to the next lowest category setting.
The second knob wiggled, trying to reset, but remained stuck at “11”. From the studio Chad heard a loud moan, almost a bellow of raw, animal passion. He snapped his head up to stare at the monitors as Kenny transformed into a beautiful, muscular man whose whole unbearably compelling body was an erect, orgasmic sexual organ.
Chad rose involuntarily to his feet, his almost-hard cock slipping from his mouth and, as he gained his full height, pressing hard against his carved, thick chest and collarbone, his drooling, flared head nesting just to one side of the hollow of his throat, against the pounding and visible pulse on the side of his neck. He gaped at the monitor, because he could feel, palpably, even with his back to the camera, Kenny’s need—Kenny’s lust—and, most uncanny of all—Kenny’s unstoppable, unsurpassable ability to satisfy.
The head of his giant, cum-gushing cock was easily visible over Kenny’s still-jacketed but obviously immensely powerful shoulder. It radiated sex like all that cum was raising on him, seeping into his skin, filling his already sloshing balls and driving his own libido higher and higher and higher until he thought that if he started cumming now he’d never be able to stop. Hoooo-oly shi-i-—
“What the shit is going on here?!” brayed a loud and very unwelcome voice behind him. “Why the shit are you naked, Holbrooke?”
Shit! “You shouldn’t be here, Mr. Delavan,” Chad said nervously. He realized the word LIBIDO was up on the big screen and recklessly tried to get rid of it by the only method that came to mind—he dialed up the main knob as fast as he could, so fast that none of the categories could catch and be pushed to eleven. “You really don’t want to be here for this…” he continued, fairly certain that the temperamental gym-bunny twink of a junior executive would not want to get mixed up in all of this.
“Holbrooke!” Delavan Jr. barked, so abruptly that Chad started, making the main setting knob come to rest on EXHIBITIONISM. Oops! He stole a glimpse at the screen and saw Kenny, still with his back to them, practically ripping off all his inhibiting clothing and tossing each article aside with manifest relief. He edged around to face the owner’s son, keeping his hand on the main knob of the Revisualizer.
Delavan Jr. was standing in the doorway, his blazing eyes fixed on Chad. That part, at least, was good news—he probably hadn’t seen Kenny or the Revisualizer captions yet. He was dressed for the gym in a ribbed, wide-strapped tank top, white shorts, ankle socks, and white sneakers, showing off gym-grown arms, lightly hairy soccer-star legs, and a chest that looked like it had been sculpted by a master craftsman who specialized in large, round, beautiful pecs. His wavy, flaxen hair was loose and longer than Chad remembered it being—in fact Chad had never seen him dressed down before, and was frankly goggling at the sight before him. Delavan, for his part, was breathing hard and staring daggers at him, unable to look away from Chad’s augmented, improved body and, most especially, the huge erection nuzzling at Chad’s carotid artery. “You… you…” Delavan said, seeming barely able to get the words out. “You are… so… fired…” he huffed, never taking his eyes off Chad’s monstrously large, throbbing tool.
“Mr. Delavan—” Chad started to say. Fumbling with the Revisualizer, he twisted the main knob, hoping for a caption more innocuous than “exhibitionism”. He stole a quick glance at the monitor. INFECTIOUSNESS. Whoa, not what he was expecting. Still, he could pass that off as one of the subjects from the content feed, and—
Chad did a double-take. Infectiousness! Kenny’s transformations… infectiousness… at eleven—!
Delavan was moving toward him, as if drawn unrelentingly toward Chad by forces beyond either of their control. “I’ve never seen one so big,” Delavan murmured, his eyes wide as saucers.
On the desk, forgotten, Chad’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. Chad ignored it, his whole attention fixed on Delavan in front of him, and behind him, like the sun beating down on him, affecting him with ever pulse of his heart, Kenny, or whatever Kenny had become, whatever Kenny was doing to them, now, in real time.
Chad stared at Delavan as he approached, engrossed by him, watching in fascination as mere proximity to Kenny—merely being in sight of him potentially, without his even having looked up to actually behold him—was making Delavan’s muscles quiver and pump, wanting to grow. Chad looked down to see Delavan’s package jump, as if his equipment was getting a pump, too. Chad knew what to look for because he could feel it in himself, too. His muscles. His junk. His libido.
The edge of Chad’s jaw prickled, and he brought his hand up to feel his own beard, thicker than he was used to, emerging tentatively from his skin, even as Delavan, unheeding, developed a surfer-boy’s brush of flaxen five-days’ growth along his sharp, handsome jawline and around his full, needy lips.
Delavan was not catching any of this. His eyes were locked on Chad’s swelling, widening cock as he moved closer and closer. “I didn’t know they could be this big,” he murmured, finally reaching up to touch. He could see what Delavan was planning—a single caress with the back of his knuckles—but then Delavan’s hand stopped short, and he looked up with clear blue eyes and, much to Chad’s shock, asked, “May I?”
Chad grinned at him, unaccountably abashed. “Sure, Mr. Del—”
“William,” Delavan said. “Please.” Fuck, that please—there was so much in that please, Chad’s balls contracted. It was a submission, an admission, and a command all in one. Delavan laying himself bare, and laying Chad bare, too.
“Yes,” Chad gasped. And then, his own overpowering need drove him to say it as it had driven Delavan. “Please,” he whispered.
Delavan reached up and ran the back of his fingers along the impossible rigid, swollen girth of his now triple-wide cock, and suddenly Chad was cumming, hard, unstoppably, unceasingly, huge arcs of cum shooting high and fast from an incredible, worshipful, aching, unbending cock and massive, inexhaustible balls. With a roar Delavan ripped off his muscle shirt and hauled his own growing erection out of his shorts, and Chad had time to take in its ballooning size and nonstop spurting gouts of jizz as it reached Delavan’s perfectly sculpted, still-mostly-hairless chest, passing fat, cum-spitting nipples looking almost as cocklike as Chad’s own jizzing nips felt like they must be, before Delavan grabbed Chad by the back of his thick neck and drew their hot, desperate lips into a blissful, soul-melting kiss. They kept cumming, floating in near-constant orgasm as they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing urgently with long, questing tongues as they wrapped their godlike bodies around each other.
Somewhere along the way Chad had clicked the knob he was holding to the final, fifteenth setting, and if he’d been able to pry his focus away from William he would have seen, on the monitor, the unbearably beautiful, bearded face of the man he knew as Kenny, now become something more, his face, bulging shoulders, and part of his enormous cock filling the screen as he stared straight into the camera. The caption over him read CONTROL OF ALL CATEGORIES. And, had Chad ever looked up to see it, he might have guessed how control of all categories, driven up to eleven, might have far-reaching, mind-blowing implications. Because, driven past the final quantification for that power into something beyond it, control of all categories might just mean that Kenny now controlled every setting: Cuteness. Sexiness. Buffness. Pecs. Age. Height. Libido. Cock size. Muscle. Beard. Beard Thickness. Body Hair. Exhibitionism. Infectiousness. He controlled them all, and not only of his own body, and not even of all the bodies he came even in glancing contact with (like Chad and Delavan, who were driven to intense transformation without even being in the same room with him)—no, it was more than that. Kenny’s control of all categories extended beyond even that limitation, and as he stared down the camera into televisions and computer screens without number, it didn’t matter that they weren’t tuned in to him—he was tuned into them, and the world would never be quite the same.