Tripod

by matt1008

A college student explains how he got his intriguing nickname.

Hey, the name’s Tripod.

Actually, my real name is Henry—but only my dad calls me that.

How did I get to be known as Tripod? Well, believe it or not, it goes way back to when I was twelve years old. I was just another happy-go-lucky kid in the suburbs, playing games and minding my own business, when my voice started developing a crack. I was getting acne, and my private parts started feeling sensitive. Puberty, at last.

In the months leading to my 13th birthday, I was secretly looking forward to the changes. Every night, I’d check the area above my penis to see new hairs growing in. My testicles dropped, my little dick plumped up, and I was feeling horny all the time. Rubbing myself gave me all sorts of tingly sensations, but nothing much else was happening. Living at home with my divorced dad and no siblings, I was thankful for plenty of private time to explore. At school, I laid low and kept to myself.

With the coming of spring that year, things finally amped up. I developed peach fuzz on my lip and sprouted up a bit taller. By the end of the school year, I was two inches taller—but that wasn’t the only part of me that was growing. I noticed that my hard-on was stiffer and longer, capped by a nice, fat mushroom-shaped head. Out of curiosity, I took out my school ruler and measured it—nearly five inches long! Maybe rubbing it some more will make it grow longer, I weirdly thought. It didn’t get longer, but I ended up having my first, mind-blowing orgasm one balmy May night. Hopefully my Dad wasn’t disturbed by my moans. There were to be a lot more dick-massaging sessions during that summer.

When school started again that fall, I was a good two inches taller with a mop of unruly dark brown hair and a sulky attitude. I was definitely no longer a little kid, not with six stiff inches in my pants. Unfortunately, that was the first year I had Physical Ed classes with a communal change room and showers, and I was so scared of drawing attention to myself. Physically, I was tall and gangly, and getting more so with each passing week. I dreaded the other guys seeing me naked in the locker room. With an adult-sized dick and balls, I felt even more freaky. During gym class, I tried my best not to draw attention to myself. Luckily, there wasn’t too much locker room chatter that I was aware of. I kept my towel on and learned to use cold water in the shower, so even the slightest amount of chub didn’t show.

By the time I turned 14, I was nearly six feet tall and 140 gangly pounds, a scarecrow trapped in the body of a quiet middle school student. Me and my dad celebrated at home with a nice cake and gifts. I blew out the candles, secretly happy that I reached another milestone, having an extra inch on my hard-on for a good seven inches!

After that, things settled down a bit for a while. I enjoyed nightly jack-off sessions while noticing that my pubes were getting thicker and denser. I was also getting armpit hair, while my height gradually increased by a couple more inches. Although I remember the guys in gym class whispering behind my back in the change room, it felt like stuff was getting back to normal.

It wasn’t until the summer between 9th and 10th grade that I started noticing things about myself being a bit—odd. I was happily jacking off every night, trying to learn techniques to make my sessions last longer (and basically failing). I hadn’t measured my dick in a while. After one especially explosive cum, my dick was throbbing and feeling especially huge. I decided to get my school ruler and find out how big it was. Holding the ruler against my stiff hard-on, I was surprised to find that my dick was an even nine inches long. I grew two whole inches in the past six months—how could that be? I thought I was done growing. Puberty sure is weird.

The next morning, I awkwardly brought up the subject of my growing dick with my dad. He was surprisingly cool, and suggested a trip to see our family doctor. The doctor listened attentively to everything I said, and he was also surprisingly cool. He basically reassured me that my body just wasn’t finished changing and that it often takes a bit longer for some parts of puberty to finish its natural course. Thankful that the doctor didn’t ask me to drop my drawers and show him, I exited his office with a little more peace of mind—but I was still unsure what I was going to do with school starting up again in the fall.

Before the first day of 10th grade, I stood nude in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. Taking stock of my body, I sighed. I was tall, thin and gangly. The smoothness of my bony torso contrasted with the thickness of my pubes, and it was hard not to notice my long, full dick hanging down a good six inches soft. “I’m a freak,” I remember saying out loud. My hips and shoulders were still kinda narrow, emphasizing my weird proportions all the more. I dreaded stripping down in the gym locker room—but at least my dick wasn’t letting me down. I hefted it in my hand, then let it flop down, bouncing up against my thighs. I could feel it pumping up with blood, indulging in the tingling sensations as it gently swelled up. I swayed my hips, letting the heavy organ bounce against my legs as it got thicker and longer. I took deep breaths and kept still, watching in fascination as my dick pulsed upward and outward. It would subtly bob up and down as it grew, first sticking out from my groin at a 45-degree angle. I moaned softly while my mushroom head plumped up to its full thickness, my rod becoming a stiff pole jutting out from my body, its curved, veiny surface parallel to the floor. I was so fucking horny—but within my cloud of helpless arousal, a glimmer of curiosity got to me. I hopped onto my bed, propping my back up with pillows. I sat staring at my big stiffy, making sure to stroke it extra well to make it nice and hard. Then, I leaned forward, sticking my tongue all the way out. To my surprise, I found that I could lick the very tip on my mushroom head with the end of my tongue. It was so fucking hot, all I needed to do was a few quick strokes of the shaft and I let a huge, sticky load out all over my face. Incredible!

Between hot and heavy me-and-my-dick-lovemaking sessions, I needed to figure out how to deal with school. I switched from brief-style underwear to boxers to make myself more comfortable, and wearing loose pants did a decent enough job of hiding my endowment. It was that damned gym class that was causing me headaches. The locker room and showers filled me with dread, and I kept praying for some kind of excuse to get out of it. Luckily I was only required to take P.E. for two years in high school, and I was beginning the second and final year of that torture. In the meantime, no amount of cold shower water could hide the fact that my dick swung down a good six-plus inches soft, and it could potentially grow at a quick rate to a full, hard ten inches (yeah, I gained another inch over the summer). Even chubbing up a little bit in public would kill me with embarrassment.

Thankfully, things went all right over the school year. I concentrated on my studies and went out of my way to avoid spontaneous sexy thoughts (the boys’ bathroom stalls came in handy then). During gym class, I laid low and kept to myself, making sure to change and shower quickly to avoid drawing attention to myself. Even then, I couldn’t help but overhear my classmates’ chatter in the background. I even heard a few of them mutter “donkey dick” or “John Holmes,” thinking I wouldn’t notice. It was all pretty harmless except for this one dude, Cody Hawkins, an annoying little blonde pipsqueak who nevertheless became the class Alpha Bully only through the force of his obnoxious personality. In the locker room, he’d say stuff like “Hey, Henry, you better watch out or you’ll put somebody’s eye out” just to piss me off. At first I tried to ignore it, but day after day of Cody’s relentless bullying finally made me snap. I was finishing my shower one day, thoroughly soaked, and Cody made some stupid remark. Instead of modestly grabbing my towel and covering myself, I marched up to him, dripping wet and incensed. “Look, Cody,” I said, “this dick is part of who I am—I can’t change it, and neither can you. Instead of making snarky comments, you’d do well to shut up and… just fuck off!,” I sputtered before returning to my locker. I was so furious that I just put my clothes onto my wet body without bothering to towel off. The outburst worked—Cody basically kept to himself for the rest of the year and I didn’t have to deal with his sorry ass again (for a while, at least).

By the way, during that confrontation I had just turned fifteen, and my dick was not slowing down. It measured eleven inches hard, and just over seven and a half inches soft. It was exciting, but also a bit concerning. Once again, I was wondering if the growth will ever stop like the rest of my teenage development did. My height topped out at six foot two, my weight leveled off at about 155 pounds, but my dick kept growing. Around this time, I also noticed an odd thing—my dick was getting longer but otherwise it wasn’t getting any thicker. It had basically the same thickness as when I sported a girthy six-inch hard-on—just a lot longer! My shaft seemed to be getting more sensitive the lengthier it got, and with the extra growth I was able to suck down more of it during my nightly self-blowing sessions. By the time the school year came to a close, I was just over a foot long, hard—it was getting time to return to the family doctor to find out what was up.

The doctor’s visit ended up being interesting and informative, if a bit awkward and weird. This time, the admitting nurse told me to strip down and put on a dressing gown like what they have in hospitals. It was freezing, but I complied. The doctor finally stepped into the exam room and we casually chatted about different stuff. He put on some latex gloves and asked me to stand up. All the while casually chatting, the doctor lifted my gown and started handling my dick and balls. It wasn’t sexual or anything, it was just a bit weird having someone else touching me down there. The doctor was a bland-looking guy, middle aged and handsome in a doughy way. I started noticing my dick getting stiff at his ministrations, however. I started feeling embarrassed at the thought of sporting a woody in his office. He just continued examining me and chatting casually, however, so eventually I just relaxed and let it fully harden.

He reached into a drawer and brought out a tape measure, recording his findings of the shaft length and the diameters around the base and just under the head. It measured 12.8 inches long, 8 inches circumference around the base, and 6.2 inches circumference under the crown of the head. While my hard dick was sticking out from my groin in the breeze of the office A.C., the doctor calmly explained that I had a rare condition called Delayed Puberty Syndrome, DPS for short where certain elements of puberty development continued going on after the others have stopped. It wasn’t life-threatening or anything, just extremely unusual. In fact it happens in one of every 800,000 youths, and I happened to be one of the (un?) lucky ones. I sighed and asked the doctor if the growth was going to stop soon. He replied honestly that he couldn’t say how long it will last. He did say, however, that all recorded cases of DPS eventually came to an end. He also added that there was a case of a young man in Finland whose dick eventually stopped growing at an unbelievable 21 inches—I sure hoped I wouldn’t get that long! The doctor took out a little blank notebook and pen and gave it to me, along with his tape measure, encouraging me to take down regular records of my growth. We agreed to meet up again in three months as I got dressed and thanked him.

The next few months were basically spent being a guinea pig and recording my growing progress. Having a foot-plus-long dick has its advantages, you know. In my bed every night, I was able to easily suck down the top four of five inches of my hard-on, while stroking the lower part of it or using my fingertips on my sensitive balls. Using my tongue, teeth, spit and suction, I was able to get some unbelievably great orgasms. I learned how to slow down the oral stimulation to “tease” out an impending orgasm, then speed up the motions when I was good and ready to cum. When I turned 16 years old, I celebrated with a special self-suck session which went on for a good two hours—fantastic! That night, I measured myself and was pleased to find that my dick had just topped an unbelievable 15 inches in length. I was getting to like being super-hung.

I did my own research on big-dicked men and found out some interesting stuff. For instance, the usual line on well-hung guys is that when they get turned-on, their dicks tend to get a bit spongy-textured and not as hard as with a small- or regular-hung guy. It’s because of the extra amount of blood required to keep a larger dick hard. Weirdly, that wasn’t an issue with me—my 15-inch hard-on was just as rock-hard as when I measured six inches. My dick literally looked like a long, thin tree branch jutting out of my groin! One morning as I was getting out of the shower, I decided to test out just how hard I was. Using the damp, heavy bath towel from my shower, I draped it over my stiffy. The thing barely budged. I was even able to pulse it a few times. Maybe my old bully, Cody, was right about my dick being able to put somebody’s eye out.

After about six months of recording my growth, my doctor was able to determine that my dick was growing at a rate of just under four inches a year. I was also growing slightly thicker; 0.3 inches circumference every year. It was a unique situation to say the least, but I was oddly getting used to it—not quite 17 years old and yet more hung than the most swinging porn stars. Even weirder, I was perfectly happy with my condition because it gave me a clear identity which I otherwise lacked. Sure, in public I made sure to stay low-key and hide my mega-dick, but in private I indulged in the sexual energy it brought. I thrilled in measuring my hard-on and finding out it was just a little bit longer, and wondered how much longer I’d get (will my soft dick graze the floor when I was standing? I hope not!). Around the house, I enjoyed hanging out with no pants on, allowing my soft-on to swing freely. Surprisingly, my dad was cool with it. I looked forward to the summer between 11th and 12th grade and being able to pants-less read, relax and play video games (and playing with myself in my bedroom, of course).

It was during that summer that I had one of the weirder encounters… as usual, I was at home alone, lying around and wearing just a t-shirt, vegging out in front of the TV watching something on Netflix. I heard a knock on the front door—odd, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I threw on a pair of loose athletic pants and sprinted to the door. I opened it to find an anxious-looking Cody Hawkins. Yep, that pipsqueak bully from the locker room.

“What do you want?,” I asked impatiently.

Cody looked around cautiously before answering. “Dude, I need to see it.”

“See what?”

“Your cock—I need to see it.”

“What are you, a perv or something?”

“Look, I’ll pay you. How much do you want?”

I looked around, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t see me with this pathetic jerk. “Twenty bucks,” I said, “—and no touching.”

Cody started fumbling with his wallet. I quickly ushered him into the entryway, again hoping no one saw us. I took the twenty. “Follow me,” I said, leading Cody to my upstairs bedroom. With my back to him, I was already regretting our agreement. At least it’ll be quick, I thought.

In my bedroom, I walked in towards my bed and quickly removed my athletic pants. Turning to face Cody, I was surprised to find that he quickly shucked his t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, standing there completely naked. “We didn’t agree to th—,” I sputtered.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” Cody blurted out in a daze. His eyes were bugging out at my ten-inch soft dick flopping between my thighs.

Cody reached out and grabbed by shaft below the head, hefting up my dick and stroking it. What the hell? He was grabbing my dick without permission. “Hey,” I interjected. Cody didn’t listen and kept stroking, and despite all that weirdness going on I could feel myself swelling up.

“Amazing, bro, c’mon and get hard for me,” Cody muttered. He was hypnotized, rhythmically stroking my shaft as it plumped up. I could see his own modest-sized tool getting hard as I succumbed to his hands. Honestly, I wasn’t much into him but it felt so good having someone else touching my super-sensitive dick. So this is what it’s like, I thought, bring it on. “Fuck, man, this is incredible,” Cody said as he stroked me to full attention. My stiff dick stuck out at its full seventeen inches, and Cody was using both hands to massage it. I closed my eyes and took it in, thinking about some of my cute classmates with their tight sweaters. I felt Cody take his hands off my dick. Curious, I opened my eyes and found him on his knees, bringing my cock head to his mouth. He was sucking and licking me with abandon, bending my dick down at an awkward angle to his lips. I silently guided him to continue sucking while sitting on my bed where it would be more comfortable for both of us. To be honest, he wasn’t that great at giving head (certainly not as good as me), but I went with it because it felt so good. My breathing got deeper as I felt the sensations increase. I used my right hand to stroke the bottom half of my dick, while my left hand was guided to the back of Cody’s head, directing him to suck harder. Feeling the buzzed hair on his scalp, that did it. I gasped as I unleashed a flood of hot cum into Cody’s mouth. He grunted and attempted to swallow most of it. I opened my eyes and saw my big dick squirting volleys of cum onto Cody’s face, neck and shoulders.

“Wow, nice,” I gasped. Cody nodded silently, then abruptly stood up and gathered his clothes. Before I knew it, he bolted out of my bedroom. Left alone, I hefted my still-hard dick and thought, “that was interesting.” I even thought about getting together with him again, but throughout our last year in school I didn’t see much of him. We didn’t share any classes, and it seemed as if he was trying to avoid me in the hallways.

So, that’s the story of how I lost my virginity to the class bully, LOL.

By the time school started up again in the fall, my dick sized topped an astonishing 18 inches. This was a nice size to be, I found, because I could suck myself while watching porn on my laptop. Every night, I’d dial up my favorite scenes and let them play while reclining on my bed, my entire mouth wrapped around my dick like I was enjoying a giant, sexy lollipop. It was fantastic at home, but in public my dick posed some unique problems. Soft, it hung down a good 13 inches, poking out of the hem on my loose boxer underwear. I could have gone commando at school, but the fabric on my pants was too stimulating. I found an offbeat solution by wearing boxers and tucking my soft dick upward against my belly and holding it in place with a stretchy compression belt. While it wasn’t the best setup, it worked pretty well. Yeah, sometimes I’d brush up against a pretty classmate in the hallway and have to duck into the nearest bathroom for a quick jack-off session. Thankfully, that didn’t happen too often.

The issue of having to conceal my dick started to gnaw at me, however. Having a huge dick was part of who I was, and I didn’t want to hide it. I needed to live openly. Before that could happen, however, I knew that I couldn’t continue being a shy introvert. During that final year of high school, I made more of an effort to talk to my peers, as painful and awkward as it could be. I socialized a little more, tried out some extracurricular clubs, and generally made myself a bit more open and friendly. It worked—I even got chummy enough with a few classmates to invite them to our home for my 17th birthday party. They didn’t need to know that I was past “17” on the tape measure with my hard-on. Actually, I was approaching 19 inches as I blew out the candles on my cake! I laughed to myself, finding it funny that my dick length now exceeded my age.

Later on that spring, I passed twenty inches. I was settling into a routine with my growth. Every week, I’d take down the measurements and email them to my doctor. He would then relay the info to various specialists in Delayed Puberty Syndrome working around the world. Thankfully, I wasn’t being poked and prodded in a lab like a friggin’ chimpanzee. The unstoppable growth was kind of exciting, however, and I could sense my doctor’s mounting interest in my weird situation from his replies to my emails. So, what’s it like having a twenty-inch dick? Kind of freaky, but incredibly cool. Since I wasn’t thickening all that much, my dick was getting proportionally long and thin. It jutted out from my torso like a long, thick branch. Walking around in my room, I had to be careful—otherwise, my hard-on would knock stuff off my desktop and my dresser! Standing up, I could take my dick and bend it upwards against my torso and have my thick mushroom head touch my chest. All of this growth was a huge rush, but I also began to wonder if I was gonna get too long to suck myself off. What if I just kept growing and growing? The idea was kind of scary and hot at the same time.

In the meantime, I had other stuff on my mind as high school graduation approached. All that time spent on my studies (when I wasn’t sucking myself silly) paid off as my grades improved handsomely during senior year. On a whim, I decided to apply for a fully paid scholarship at the nearest state college. Surprisingly, I ended up getting accepted! My dad was over the moon with pride when he found out, and I have to admit feeling quite accomplished as I sailed toward graduation. It was a somewhat bittersweet time, but I was also looking forward to college as an opportunity to become my true self. No more awkwardly hiding my dick underneath a compression belt—I needed to live free, and out.

The summer after graduation, I hit upon an idea to help me out in that area. At that time, my dick measured a long, heavy fourteen inches soft, and it was approaching 21 inches hard. Regular underwear could no longer hold me, and of course public nudity was out. What about a compromise? With the aid of a sketchbook and pencil, I drew out a sketch of regular, loose athletic shorts with a “sock” of matching material in front to hold my dick. I showed the sketch to my dad (who is surprisingly handy with a sewing machine) and he was enthusiastically on board to try it out—if only for wearing around the house that summer. I retrieved some clothing from my dresser for that first garment—a pair of shorts, along with an older pair that I outgrew to be cut up and used for the “sock” part. Dad got busy and had that first pair of shorts ready by the next day. The first time I tried on those shorts, it was a revelation. Finally, I had clothes that fitted me, and I no longer had to squeeze myself into uncomfortable positions. It felt fantastic! Although I wanted to wear them all over the place, I wasn’t sure if the outside world was ready for this… in the meantime, it felt good relaxing around the house in my upgraded pants. In the following weeks, my dad surprised me by making a few more enhanced articles of clothing—a pair of khakis, blue jeans, and a couple more pairs of athletic shorts and pants.

By the way, a little milestone was reached the month before I was set to start college. Remember the first time my doctor told me about DPS, and the guy from Finland whose dick measured a then-impossible 21 inches? Well, I went past that in August. “Suck it, Finnish dude,” I wrote in my growth diary. LOL!

College orientation happened that summer. I had a great time checking out the campus, meeting new people and imagining how different things will be living in a dorm with people my own age. At the orientation, I was still strapped in the way I’d been for the last few years at high school, my dick nestled awkwardly against my torso in a tight compression belt. Honestly, I hated living that way. Why couldn’t it be different? College has always been a time for young people to find themselves; I felt different, however, because I already knew that I was comfortable as a big-dicked guy—why couldn’t everyone else accept it? As the first week of classes approached, I considered keeping my big dick hidden the way it had been throughout high school. The more I thought about it, however, the more absurd it seemed.

After I moved into my dorm room, I kept things under wraps. My dick was still strapped in as I met my roommate, Daniel, and some of the other guys in my dorm. Nobody knew about my huge dick, and it kind of bothered me—but I put on a friendly face and focused on moving in and casually chatting with my dorm mates. On the morning of the first day of school, however, I thought “what the hell” and put on a pair of custom-made big-dick jeans my dad made for me. I grinned, thinking of the reactions I’d get as I made my way downstairs to the dorm’s ground-floor communal area. A snarky fellow named Craig was the first to spot me. His friends stared quizzically as Craig spoke up. “Pretty funny, bro,” he said, laughing. “Hey, it’s what I feel comfortable wearing,” I said, grinning. Craig and his friends suddenly fell silent in astonishment that my bulge was real (I think a few of them had gaping mouths). I sauntered by, saying “Dudes, I’d like to show you sometime, but I’m running late for Chem 101—see you later.”

Walking around campus that day, it was inevitable that I’d be getting a lot of stares. I responded by smiling, making eye contact, saying “hello” and even engaging my fellow students in casual conversation. That loosened them up, reminding them that there was a person just like them attached to this freaky-long member. Nevertheless, by the end of the day word got around. People continued to look, if only out of curiosity for the new guy. I took it in stride. After a week or two, random guys at the dorm started asking if they could see it. I’d find the nearest bathroom, pull down my pants and show them—no big deal. It was actually kind of funny to see their shocked reactions. Guess one doesn’t see a fourteen-inch soft dick every day!

Once the hype died down, it didn’t take too long for me to get into my studies and college life. I loved living in a dorm, and having the freedom to concentrate on what I wanted to study (even though I hadn’t settled on a major yet). I took pleasure in small things, like going to the campus library to study or grabbing a snack at the community center. I even got into working out once a week at the campus gym—although the machines didn’t make too much of a difference with my still-scrawny physique.

Sex-wise, I pretty much kept to myself, making sure to measure myself once a week and relay the results to my doctor (yep, I was still growing!). Given the casual nature of dorm life, it seemed inevitable that someone would catch me in the act. That happened a couple of months into the fall semester. One night, I was feeling especially horny and decided to cut my studies short and go to bed early. I had the lights out and was really getting into sucking myself, deep-throating my long dick as it steeled itself for another amazing cum. Just as I felt the orgasm rise, I heard some rustling at the door. The open door cast a bright light onto me and my super-dick. Crap, it was my roommate, Daniel! I hurried to throw the blanket over myself. Quickly, I curled up and faced the dorm room wall, pretending to be asleep. Daniel must have seen something, however, as I heard him scurry into the bathroom. I continued to “sleep” as I heard Daniel re-enter, undress and lie down on his bed across the room.

The next morning was a bit awkward, but the more I thought about it the funnier the situation seemed. Daniel was silently preparing his breakfast as I joined him in our room’s tiny kitchenette. I was going to speak up when Daniel beat me to it. “Do you do that a lot—sucking on yourself?,” he tentatively wondered.

“Yeah—I mean, back home I used to do it every night,” I said with a grin. “Around here, I have to be more careful. Like, I should’ve locked that door. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Daniel said as he stared at his frosted flakes. “How does it feel, having it sucked? I have a girlfriend back home,” he somewhat randomly added.

“Well, it feels great,” I honestly replied. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“Emily,” Daniel replied. “We’ve been going out for two years.” Hmm, I thought, it figures he’d have a girlfriend. Daniel was handsome, with dark brown hair and icy-blue eyes—nice and polite, but with kind of a boring personality.

“So, what I’m getting is that you’re curious about having your dick sucked, but Emily won’t go there,” I said, “—and you want to know what all the fuss is about.”

Daniel squirmed in his chair. “Yeah,” he quietly admitted.

“I’ll show you what it’s like,” I volunteered. Daniel looked skeptical. “Look, I know you’re straight, but it’s not gay to be curious about what it’s like having your dick sucked—and I’m good at it.” From the way Daniel was adjusting the crotch in his pants, I could tell he was interested. I stood up, revealing the massive tent in my shorts. “What are we waiting for?,” I added with a smile, before quickly dropping to my knees.

Daniel remained seated while I did the rest. Undoing his jeans and pulling down his underwear revealed a rock-hard, thick stiffy just aching to be sucked. I took that thing and inhaled it all the way to the base, making Daniel moan in approval. My tongue massaged his sensitive cock underside as I guided myself up and down his girthy, uncut member. I reached around his waist with one hand while using the other hand to massage his low-hanging balls. “This is definitely not a beginner’s dick,” I thought, briefly picturing his girlfriend recoiling in horror at her guy’s substantial bulge and the thought of sucking it. I continued sucking, mentally calculating Daniel’s length as about seven inches. Seven thick inches. Daniel moaned louder as I felt him stiffen, gearing up for the inevitable. Three short minutes after I started, Daniel grunted loudly as I felt a flood of cum squirting down my throat. I was a bit bummed that the whole deal was so brief, but it also made me extremely horny that I was so successful at my first try at giving head. I glided my tongue up the length of Daniel’s shaft, kissing his swollen dick head. I looked up and saw Daniel with his neck craned over the chair back, breathing heavily. It made me feel so powerful, being able to bring a guy to orgasm that quickly. “Not bad, eh?,” I said after standing up. Daniel could only nod “yes,” his eyes still closed. “See ya later,” I said as I stood up and grabbed my book bag. Heading off to class, I grew confident that sucking off my cute roommate would become a regular thing (it would, BTW).

Oh, and in case you were wondering—I was still growing! A month after my 18th birthday, my hard dick topped 24 inches in length. It continued to appear freakishly long and thin, but looks could be deceiving. Especially around the base, my hard dick was becoming incredibly thick—girthy enough that I couldn’t even close my thumb and finger around the thing. Toward the tip, my thickness tapered off to a more “normal” circumference, but it was still quite thick. My erections were still rock hard, and when I angled it up, the head touched my upper chest. Sadly, it was getting too long for me to comfortably suck myself off—but that would be remedied soon enough.

Toward the end of Freshman year, word got around about my special condition. It wasn’t long before my curious classmates invited me to parties. You know how those things can get, with the supply of free-flowing kegs, loud music, and loosened inhibitions. Whenever I showed up, someone would inevitably ask to see my dick “in the flesh,” as it were. I wasn’t shy in that department and was always happy to show it off. A few pushy guys would try to get me drunk and take advantage of me, but I’d always laugh it off and decline (personally, I can’t stand the taste of beer). Despite my perfectly sober state, however, the free, fun-loving atmosphere would always get to me and I’d end up getting a bit… bad. Imagine, if you will, a group of fun-loving guys and gals stroking my dick, making me hard, laughing and taking bets on how long it would take for me to cum (not long) or how many times they could make me cum (I think six times was my record). You can see how seductive that was—soon enough, I became the most popular guest at these wild gatherings and it became a weekly, sometimes more-than-weekly, thing.

It was around this time that I got the nickname of Tripod. It pissed me off at first, but eventually I started to realize that being known as “Tripod” was kind of a badge of honor with my classmates. It was a signal that I was accepted as one of them. Frankly, it felt pretty fucking great to no longer feel like an outcast among my peers. From then on, I owned Tripod.

The summer after my Freshman year, I kicked back at home. Dad was happy for me to be back, and he took the time to alter those special pants for his ever-growing young man. After the wild times I had that spring, it was nice to take the time to relax and enjoy myself. Sure, I kept in touch with my new college friends via social media and texting, but for the most part I laid low until school resumed that September. By that time, I measured a full 26 inches erect, 17 inches soft. The thing hung down past my knees and kept bouncing around when I walked. So annoying! By keeping myself semi-erect, however, my mega-dick avoided bouncing around so much (instead, it looked like a weird divining rod coming out my crotch). When I figured that out, I decided it had to be that way permanently upon my return to campus. Looking at myself in my bedroom mirror, naked and semi-hard, I shrugged. “They’re just gonna have to get used to it,” I laughed.

Sophomore year was a blast. I enjoyed classes, living on campus, studying and learning new stuff. I also have to admit that things got a bit… slutty that year. Hey, it happens to the best of us, right? I was equally attracted to guys and girls, and with my mega-dick it was kind of difficult not to wind up hooking up all over the place. I tried fucking (nice, if lacking in intimacy), being fucked (it hurt a bit), duos, trios, group sex. A fun clique of sorority girls got into playing a kinky game of ring toss with my endowment. I also hooked up with a confident co-ed named Lacey, a budding dominatrix who had my wrists and ankles tied up. She melted candle wax on my torso, tortured my nipples and finally rewarded my patience with an excellent blow job. One of my better encounters came along with two gay students, Tyler and Joaquin, who kept me entertained in a marathon eight-hour session that only broke when we needed breakfast in the morning. That was hot, to say the least.

Fun as those hookups were, it was during that year that I found my true passion, sex-wise: giving blow jobs. All those years of practice on myself made me a true pro at sucking dick, and I got off on the power giving head entails. Turned out that my roommate, Daniel, was just the beginning. With experience, I learned how to use my tongue, throat, teeth and spit to control how much and when the guy’s arousal goes up and down, teasing out that inevitable orgasm until he cums when I want him to. While sucking, I’d feel that dick stiffen with an orgasm coming on, then I’d ease up on the movement, making the dude moan—huge turn-on. And addictive—after Daniel, I blew Tim, a neighbor in our dorm. Quickly, word got around. I blew Craig, the snarky dude from the dorm who commented on my dick that first week of Freshman year. I blew a few of Craig’s friends. I blew several guys from the fraternity where those wild parties were held. I blew Marco, the nice T.A. from my English Lit class. I even blew the night security guard at the campus library. I blew big dicks, average dicks, tiny dicks, thick ones, veiny ones, curved ones. Pretty soon, I had a long list of satisfied regulars. As wild as it got, I did find the time to study and pay attention in class!

And, by the way, my dick continued on its seemingly never-ending path toward the ground. My doctor was pretty gobsmacked by its incredible growth, and he constantly kept me posted on the interest of the segment of the medical community which focused on Delayed Puberty Syndrome. After my 19th birthday, my soft dick swung down a good 18.5 inches. Hard, it ballooned up to 27 stiff inches. I could angle it up and my mushroom head could touch my face—unbelievable. Nobody could’ve guessed that my dick would end up getting this big! Thankfully, my dad had his sewing machine at the ready to adjust my special wardrobe.

At school, I continued to get stares (from the incoming Freshmen), but otherwise people kinda got used to it—allowing me the time to concentrate on my studies. By the time Junior year started, I decided to pursue a Journalism degree. The school has a nice, comprehensive program and I ended up developing an interest in the behind-the-scenes parts of television production. To my surprise, I also found I had a flair for creative writing. I ended up taking a lot of classes in that area, and making friends with a few other budding writers. With my “slutty year” out of the way, I felt like my life was finally going in a nice, definitive direction. Don’t get me wrong—I still loved giving occasional blow jobs to a select group of my sex buddies. I just didn’t let it steamroll over my life like before.

Today, I’m a confident student in my senior year, newly 21 and just a couple of months shy of graduating with a grade-A average. That geeky, introverted little kid from so long ago would be astonished to see me now. For one, disciplined, regular workouts at the campus gym have resulted in a nice, toned physique. My body’s not exactly muscular, but it certainly no longer looks like a string bean. In fact, I could probably pass as an Olympic diver—although I doubt they can make a Speedo that fits a dick hanging down two feet! What a relief it was when it finally stopped growing earlier this year, a few weeks after my birthday. Hard, my mega-dick tops out at 35 solid inches (I was a bit bummed that it didn’t reach an even yard in length—although I tell everyone it’s a yard long anyways). When fully erect, my hard-on is like a thick baseball bat sticking out from my torso—rock solid, yet incredibly sensitive to the touch. I have to be careful not to get too carried away with it!

As for the future, who knows what will happen? A few offers have come my way from porn studios, but honestly I’m not all that interested in them for now. I’m more excited about the idea of writing an autobiography detailing my journey with DPS, then going on tour to promote it (maybe it will involve leaving the U.S.? Seeing Europe would be cool.) There are a lot of paths I can pursue—even staying in my smallish home town and working at one of the local television stations.

One thing’s for sure—whatever direction my life takes, I know that I can’t go back to concealing my huge dick in shame. My cock is literally part of who I am, my very identity. At this point, hiding it would be totally inconceivable to me. If others don’t accept that, it’s their problem—full speed ahead!

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