From the moment that I first laid my size queen eyes on him, I knew that Craig was packing an absolutely gargantuan cock. His towering stature of at least 6’5”, his colossal, size nineteen-or-so feet, and his excessively baggy jeans gave me no choice but to believe that he had an equally overgrown member hanging low within the spacious confines of his XXL nether-wear, and it was because of this certainty of mine of his size, derived from the size of his seismic soles, that he became the sole object of my libido-fueled desire.
Though I’d admittedly never come into contact with anyone who’d actually lent support to the old adage “big feet, big meat,” I’d always chosen to believe that particular saying—and Craig’s feet were by far the biggest that I’d ever seen in my entire life, each looking as though they were easily capable of crushing anything unfortunate enough to get caught beneath them. Whenever I saw him stomping around, my eyes would find their way down to his vast clodhoppers, thus causing my mind to slide into his roomy jeans, and my penis in turn to slip into a state of rock-solid turgidity.
A beer vendor at the local supermarket at which I was but a lowly cashier, he would come in about twice a week to replenish the store’s supply of alcohol, and as he would do so, I would find myself unable to refrain from staring at him. He was just so huge, so unbelievably, erotically massive, that I would fall victim to an unrelenting boner for the duration of his stay—a boner that, at seven inches, wasn’t exceedingly difficult to hide behind my register, but would nonetheless prompt me to carefully execute my movements so as to not draw the attention of the primarily elderly clientele that it was my debasing duty to cash out. And though I put an equal amount of effort into obscuring my longing stares as I did into hiding my raging erections, I was fairly certain that Craig was more than aware of my gawking, as he would always gratuitously flex his bulging, tattooed biceps when lifting up a pack of Budweiser, or bend down lower than necessary when lifting up an out-of-date case to flash the peak of his briefs (which were always Calvin Klein).
And he was as beautiful as he was monstrous: Careless dirty-blonde hair, angular facial structure, and full lips curved into a perpetual smirk that only someone possessed of unwavering confidence could wear. He was the embodiment of my idea of male perfection, and I knew not where my attraction to him ended, and my envy—my desire to BE him—began. I wanted to know him, both biblically and in the modern sense, more than I had anyone I’d ever encountered before. I was obsessed, and though we had never so much as made eye contact (I only knew his name having heard my obnoxious manager address him) I knew that I was in love with every bulging, oversized inch of him.
I would imagine him playing with his surely gigantic cock when I would masturbate, forgoing the search for any of the online porn that I had frequented prior to becoming aware of his existence. Just the thought of him and the monstrosity hanging between his tree trunk-like legs was enough to get me off—sometimes as much as three times in one sitting. And at the close of each of my sessions with Rosie and her four sisters, I would find myself longing for my fantasies to become a reality … for Craig to one day reveal his monstrous, naked body to me in person … allow me to hold his incredible size in my hands … lick the entire length of his colossal shaft, from balloon-sized balls to throbbing mushroom head … put as much of it as I could fit into my eager mouth … and suck its veiny girth until he shot a gallon of his heavy load right down my throat.
But it wasn’t until after almost a year of staring, fantasizing, and masturbating to his visage that I got my wish, and it was during this first direct encounter of mine with him, in the men’s room of Neeson’s Market, that my belief of Craig being outrageously endowed ceased to be mere conjecture and entered the realm of irrefutable truth.
I’d been fighting back the need to piss for the first four hours of my miserable eight-hour shift, and as soon as my fat, sweaty, and all-around disgusting asshole of a manager George waddled on over and told me that it was time for me to take my law-ordained lunch, the first thing I did was literally run to the bathroom. Within five seconds of entering the public place of defecation, I’d unzipped my fly, let my cock (which at that point had been about two inches soft) flop out, and begun to urinate. To this day I don’t think that I’ve ever let loose a more gloriously satisfying stream of piss.
I was about mid-urination when I heard the bathroom door open. Parting my eyelids (which had closed due to the remarkable pleasure radiating from my long-delayed urinary release) I saw that it was Craig. He must’ve only just arrived at the store, as I hadn’t seen him prior to that moment.
Quickly turning my attention back to the blank, shiny white wall in front of me, I tried my absolute best to not let my excitement at the prospect of finally glimpsing his dick show—via my facial expression or my gushing penis.
Now, there were two urinals located within that particular men’s room (un-separated by a privacy-providing divider) and a single stall. One would think that upon seeing that one of the urinals was occupied, anyone walking in would elect to go about their own excretory business within the confines of the stall. However, to both my great surprise and overwhelming gratitude, Craig appeared to hold no regard for such bathroom etiquette, as he came right up to the neighboring urinal. Turning slightly so as to obscure my slowly hardening cock (which was still enthusiastically shooting out piss), I heard the hulking man of my wet dreams unzip his fly, grunt slightly as he let his junk hang out, and embark on his own urinary journey.
“Oh yeah … ,” he said, clearly feeling as good about his leak as I’d been about mine. His voice was deep, and had as much bass to it as each of his massive footfalls, each syllable seemingly reverberating off of the tiling of the walls.
Sensing that I was nearing the end of my session, I began to frantically formulate a plan to get a good look at Craig’s cock without being too obvious. Who knew when a situation such as this would arise again? I’d been dying from the day that I had first beheld him to know just how much he had packed into his jumbo-sized pants, and if I didn’t act quickly, I’d continue dying for who knew how much longer.
I was debating as to whether or not I should just look over at him in mock annoyance at his blatant lack of urinal decency when, unexpectedly, he said, “Hey.”
Not taking my eyes off of the wall, I replied (trying to sound as cool as possible) with a simple, “Yo.” Having never actually engaged in a conversation with him (let alone ever entertained a verbal exchange with another male while at the head) I was at a complete loss for anything else to say. There was a moment’s pause—a pause in which I debated as to whether or not I should just cede to my overwhelming desire to turn around and look down at what was going on at the urinal next to me—before Craig said, “You know you want to look. Just do it.”
Caught completely off guard, and wondering if perhaps that in all of my excitement I’d begun hallucinating, I made a WHAT THE FUCK? face, still not turning to look at what was going on next to me (no matter how much I wanted to), and said, “Excuse me?” I said this trying my best to sound as though his request was the most insulting thing that I’d ever heard.
“I see the way you stare at me,” Craig said, in a tone that fell somewhere between teasing and flattered. “You like how big I am … You think that I’ve got a huge cock. It’s as clear as day, man. I mean, you’re right. I do got a big fucking dick. C’mon, just look at it. You won’t be disappointed… .”
At this point, I’d stopped pissing, but my dick was still out, and was now standing up in a full-blown erection. But in the heat of this unprecedented moment I didn’t give a shit. He obviously knew that I had a perpetual boner for him, so what did it matter if he actually saw it?
Throwing in the towel to my primal urges, I swung my head around and looked down.
My jaw fucking dropped.
Hanging out of the wide-open fly of Craig’s oversized jeans was the biggest soft cock that I’d ever seen—and I’d seen some big, abnormally-sized cocks on the internet. It had to be at least eight inches (bigger than my penis fully erect!) and as thick as an unsliced pickle. He was still pissing (and standing what seemed like a foot farther back from the urinal than I was), the stream of urine shooting out of the huge mushroom head of his flaccid dong twice as heavy as mine, hitting the bowl with the force of a hose.
Clearly appreciating my reaction, he said, “Told you.”
“Holy fuck,” I said, watching as he began to shake out the last drops of piss from his king-size dick. Flopping around, the thing looked as though it would’ve put a dent in the side of the urinal if he shook it with any more force.
“Wanna see it hard?” he asked, continuing to shake his shaft, which was already appearing to elongate.
Still staring open-mouthed, I just nodded, and watched as Craig’s dick grew. Longer and thicker it swelled, gaining more altitude with each second blood rushed into it, until it was basically the exact size of the TRESemmé hairspray bottles we carried down aisle two.
“Thirteen-and-a-half inches,” he said, gripping the thick base of its shaft with his huge left hand, his fat, low-hanging, potato-sized balls dropping down beneath his wrist. He clasped his right hand where his left ended, still leaving a good three inches or so exposed. He squeezed, and the enormous mushroom head throbbed, the flexing hole at its center practically big enough to fit a finger through. Looking down (both literally and surely figuratively) upon my mere normal-sized cock, he said, “Cute.” Even fully erect, my dick was dwarfed in comparison to his titanic equipment.
Snapping back to the realization that my little guy was visible, I quickly shoved it back inside my boxers and zipped up my fly. Compared to the anaconda that was standing straight up out of Craig’s bare crotch, my penis looked microscopic.
“Like … is that all natural?” I asked, buckling my belt, attempting to hide my boner (which showed no signs of receding) behind it.
“For the most part,” Craig said, looking down at his monstrous schlong, licking his lips as he did so, as though he wanted to suck it himself (which there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he could have). He began running both of his hands up and down its thick, veiny shaft, clearly in awe at his own endowment. He squeezed it again, causing the entire, meaty length to throb. It was at that moment that I could feel that I’d begun to precum. If anyone would’ve walked into the bathroom at that moment, they would’ve caught an eyeful, as Craig definitely would not have had enough time to hide his freak-sized boner in time to prevent someone from seeing it.
“What, do you pump?” I asked, my curiosity as to how such a thing could possibly occur in nature demanding an answer.
“I used to, until I outgrew my pump,” he said, rubbing his bulbous dick head with his thumb. “The last time I used it I cracked the thing. I’ve always been naturally big. I was, like, eight-and-a-half inches after puberty, but I always wanted to get bigger, you know? I mean, who doesn’t want their cock to be this fucking HUGE?” He said this last part while slapping his fat dick in the palm of his right hand—the thud this action made louder than I could’ve imagined. (As he did this, his monster balls jiggled between his muscular thighs, which were spread rather far apart in order to accommodate his vast low-hangers.)
“So I pumped for a bit, and that blew me up about an inch and made my dick fatter. But then I discovered a much more effective way of growing this thing … .”
“And what was that?” I asked, getting even more aroused at the thought of Craig enlarging his oversized dick and cracking his pump as it grew too huge, part of me hoping that whatever method he’d used to attain such an insane size was readily accessible to anyone desiring to implement it.
But Craig didn’t answer. Instead, he began stuffing his titanic boner back into his pants, smiling the entire time in obvious pride at how difficult it was. After fuddling with his fly, he finally succeeded in zipping it back up and just stood there for a moment, his boner clearly visible through his jeans. I could practically hear the sound of straining fabric against the pressure of his phallus, the thing pressing up against it as though trying its hardest to tear through.
“Hope you enjoyed the show,” he said, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. Filling his vast palms with the cheap soap provided by the automatic dispenser and turning on the faucet, he looked at me through the smudged mirror, pressing his over-inflated crotch right up against the sink, making his prominent bulge even more blatant.
“God, I love seeing other guys’ reactions to my cock,” he said. “I really don’t think there’s anything hotter than having a guy drool over my giant-ass horse dick.”
I just stood there, paralyzed with vibrating ecstasy, watching as he continued thrusting his crotch up against the sink as though he were fucking it, his smiling reflection staring back.
“You really wanna know how I got this huge?” he asked, turning off the water and turning around, drying his big, wet hands on his shirt, exposing a chunk of his shredded naval as he did so—the wide head of his macropenis poking out a good four inches from behind his belt, passing his large bellybutton.
“YES,” I said, not even bothering to attempt to hide my eagerness for an answer.
He said nothing for a moment—just looked at me in obvious amusement as I waited—before reaching a hand into his back pocket and pulling out what appeared to be a pack of Tic Tacs.
“These,” he said, ratting the multicolored contents of the half-full plastic pack in his right hand.
“What are they?” I asked, stepping closer so as to get a better look at the things. They really could’ve been nothing more than the breath fresheners I always found myself wishing my boss would use whenever he literally spat orders at me.
“A little concoction a good buddy of mine made. He calls them ‘Viagrow,’ but don’t repeat the name—he’s waiting to have it trademarked.”
“Witty,” I said, looking at the candy-like pills with the same longing and fascination that I had while beholding Craig’s monstrous dick, yet still with an inability to believe that Craig’s incredible size could be credited to something reminiscent of a mint. “And those made your dick grow that huge?”
“They sure did,” he said, taking the hand that wasn’t holding the “Viagrow” and rubbing his still obnoxiously blatant bulge with it. Clearly sensing my disbelief, he added, “Dude, this thirteen-and-a-half inch dick don’t lie.”
Though all that he was saying was too unbelievable to be true—the very suggestion that this “Viagrow” was capable of doing what he so resolutely said that it did surely a thing of fantasy—his claims were supported by such convincing evidence that the rules of reality lost all of their meaning. I believed him. Or, more accurately, I forced myself to accept what he was telling me as the truth, for the implications of what he was saying were too exciting to not entertain. Surely, I told myself, with supplements on the shelves that could increase the male sex drive and remedy impotency, science had been able to produce a pill that could augment one’s manhood to whatever proportions they desired to inflate to.
“How many of those would one have to take to get to … well, your size?” I asked, gesturing to his crotch, wanting so badly to get a little bit closer and rub it … kiss it … let what was causing it flop back out into the open … .
“Well, each pill adds an inch. The red ones add length, the blue ones pump up the girth. The question is, how big do you want to be? Personally, I would keep growing—bigger and bigger and fucking bigger—if it weren’t for the fact that I have to go out in public every day. Having a twenty-inch dick would be fucking AMAZING, but trying to live a normal life with something like that hanging between your legs? That would probably be a bit difficult. I love when I get a boner and my dick basically comes ripping right out of my pants, but there are times when that would just be awkward. Even trying to fuck someone would be almost impossible. I mean, having THIS much meat can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” At this, he gripped his glaring bulge tight and shook it through his jeans. “Bitches already get scared of this thing when they see it. They really don’t have as much of an appreciation for oversized dongs as dudes do.”
“Well, I mean, are you going to give me some of those, or … ?” I asked, his question of How big do you want to be? still echoing throughout my mind—the mind that was still unsure as to whether or not all of this was actually happening, or if I’d simply slipped on a puddle of piss, hit my head on one of the urinals, and fallen into an ultra-realistic version of one of my wildest daydreams.
He looked at me for a moment, as though mentally asking himself the same question, before saying, “Yeah. I mean, having seen what you’re working with, you could probably use some of these. How big are you now?”
“I’m seven inches hard … “ I said, that number never sounding less impressive now that I had been exposed to the inordinate inches of Craig’s Viagrow-induced cock.
“How about we make that thing twelve, and just a little bit fatter,” Craig said, opening the container and picking out seven pills—five red, two blue. “At twelve inches, you’ll be big enough to be the envy of everyone unfortunate enough to take a piss next to you.”
I held my hand out, and Craig dropped the pills into my sweaty, shaking palm. Staring down at them, I said, “Can I ask why you’re just carrying these things around in your pocket?”
Craig just continued to smile.
“Let’s just say that my buddy encourages me to find guys who are willing to test his product out. Consider this a free sample in an experimental trial.”
“Do you hand these out to every dude you meet at the urinal?” I pressed, wanting with every fiber of my being to believe that what I held in my hand would truly give me the type of cock that I’d been fantasizing about for as long as I could remember.
“Only the ones in need,” Craig said.
Ignoring his little dig at my little dick, I asked, “Should I take these now?”
“Not unless you want to learn how to walk around with a twelve-inch shaft hanging between your legs right now,” Craig said, putting the rattling case of pills back into his hind pocket. “The effect’s instantaneous, and I don’t think that you wanna learn how to handle an extra five inches while here. No, I’d take them when you get home. And just a suggestion: Take them while wearing some underwear or pants or something that you’ve outgrown. The feeling of your cock growing beneath something nice and tight makes the experience so much more enjoyable than it already is. When I did it, I ripped right out of my briefs, and that was enough to make me spray myself before the thing had even finished growing.”
Almost exploding in my pants at the thought of Craig’s dick growing too big to remain contained within a pair of underwear, I pulled out my wallet and slid the Viagrow into the empty change pocket, wanting so badly to pop them right then and there. But if they really did work, Craig was right: Work was no place to attempt to become accustomed to walking around with a foot-long cock stuffed within my not nearly baggy enough pants.
“What about your feet?” I asked, looking down at his humungous clodhoppers.
“What about them?” he said, looking down at them too, smiling as though he already knew what I was going to ask.
“Are those natural? I mean, they’re enormous. I didn’t even know they made shoes that big.”
“Well, like I said, I’ve always been a big dude, but my feet actually did grow even bigger after I took the Viagrow. It’s a minor side-effect. The growth hormone or whatever is in them must affect other things as well. I was a size sixteen before, and now I’m a fucking size twenty-one.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “Did they make you taller, too? And your balls? Those things looked like fucking balloons.”
“Yeah, everything grew a bit,” Craig said, looking down at himself as though even he couldn’t believe it. “And sometimes, even though I haven’t taken any of those pills since I reached thirteen inches, I feel like I’m still growing. I actually just bought these shoes a few weeks ago, and my feet already feel like they’re about to rip out. But that’s the reason why my buddy likes me to hand these out. They’re still in trial mode. For all I know, I could still be growing… .”
“I mean, are they safe? Will I keep growing?” I asked, half excited, half worried. “I mean, I don’t know if I want to grow into a fucking giant.”
“Dude, you’re not going to grow into a fucking giant. Worst case scenario, you’ll have to go buy some new shoes.”
He began to walk to the door but stopped and turned back around.
“You got your phone?” he asked, pulling his own out of his front jeans pocket, again drawing my attention back to his prodigious bulge, which almost looked as though it had gotten even bigger.
“Yeah,” I said, pulling my own iPhone out of my ass.
“Take my number. Just in case you have any questions or anything, or if they have a weird effect on you and you grow so huge your dick explodes or something.” At this, he laughed.
“Let me know how it goes. Send a picture. Before and after. My buddy needs some testimonial pics for when he takes this shit public. He plans on making a website and everything. What’s your name, by the way?”
“It’s Johnny. And you’re Craig, right?” I said, trying to sound as though I hadn’t had his name incessantly running through my mind every second for the past however many months.
“Yup,” he said, smiling as though he knew that I hadn’t really needed to ask.
“What’s your number?”
He gave me his digits, and as I began inputting his name, he said, “And do me a favor.”
“What?” I asked, looking back up at his beautiful, grinning face, his hand still massaging his engorged package.
“Put me in as ‘Third-Leg Craig.’”
The remainder of that shift dragged by at the pace of a paraplegic snail, as the knowledge of Craig’s gift tucked safely within the confines of my wallet prevented me from being able to think of anything else but going home and swallowing each pill until I had a cock too huge to fit into even a Magnum XL-sized condom. Between the prospect of growing my dick and the sight of Craig stomping around the store—the image of his own extreme-sized cock permanently burned into my mind—those seemingly endless three-and-a-half hours found me plagued by a raging boner so intense that it actually hurt. As customers would chat with me as I cashed them out, I would stutter almost nonsensically back, keeping my responses brief and generic out of the fear that what was going on in my head would bust out of my mouth the same way that my dick was trying to push through my pants. I’m pretty sure that more than a few people caught glimpses of my arousal, as there were a number of times when I would step out from behind my register to put grocery bags into a customer’s cart—bulge in full-effect and completely obvious—and the customer in question would suddenly fall silent and look anywhere but at me.
As soon as four o’clock finally rolled around I was out of there. Shutting down my register, I didn’t even say goodbye to George as I booked it to the back room to punch out. (Before running out of the store I made sure to stop at the bathroom to adjust my unrelenting erection, as my fat slob of a boss would surely have made a mountain out of my protruding molehill should he have glimpsed it himself.) As I power walked back through the store to the exit, I checked down every aisle to see if Craig was still there. Upon discerning that he wasn’t, I pushed through the automatic doors in my impatience and ran across the parking lot to my vehicle (an on-the-verge-of-death jalopy that looked as though it’d been manufactured centuries ago), my boner becoming dislodged from its positioning as I did so due to my elongated, hurried strides.
Once inside my piece of shit automobile, I shoved the keys into the ignition, and after a few minutes of fighting with the thing to get it started, flew out of the parking lot in a manner that surely would’ve gotten me pulled over had a cop been lurking within the vicinity. The drive home, which usually only took about ten minutes or so, seemed to drag by at the same speed that the ass-half of my shift had, each red light stretching into what seemed like an hour of pained, vocalized frustration.
When I finally turned onto my street, I grunted in annoyance upon seeing that my mother was home, her own (much nicer) vehicle parked in its usual spot in the driveway. I had hoped that she would be out shopping or on a date with her boyfriend Tom so that I would be able to do what I was so excited to do without the threat of being disturbed. Her presence within the house really wasn’t going to infringe upon my privacy, seeing as how I had a lock on my bedroom door, but still: the thought of doing something as insane as enlarging my cock while in the vicinity of my mother was a little weird.
Slamming the front door shut behind me (perhaps a little too forcibly in my state of mingled excitement and frustration) and kicking off my shoes, I yelled, “I’M HOME!” Sprinting up the stairs as though I were being timed, I heard my mother call from the kitchen, “How was your day?” The tone in her voice made it obvious that she was merely fulfilling her obligation as a maternal figure to ask and didn’t genuinely care about how my day had gone. So, getting to the top of the landing, I just shouted back, “Fine!”
Throwing myself into my bedroom, I closed the door behind me (consciously softer than I had the front door), and hurriedly locked it. Pulling my wallet out of my pants, I dumped the Viagrow out onto my bed and stared down at the red and blue pills for a few moments before picking them up off of my black bedspread and shaking them in my palm.
Five red and two blue. Five inches longer, two inches thicker. That is, if what Craig had said were true… .
He hadn’t said anything about taking them with water or anything, and for a moment I wondered whether or not doing so would result in a different effect than if I ingested them dry. Deciding that there probably would be no difference in the outcome (as Craig would’ve surely said something about it) I went over to the bathroom and filled up the plastic cup I kept in there with cold water. I’d never liked dry-swallowing pills, so some assistance courtesy of my sink was definitely going to be needed.
Stepping back over to my bed, I was about to take the plunge down the glory hole when I remembered what Craig had said about wearing undergarments that were too small when taking the Viagrow. Putting the pills back onto my bed and setting the cup of water down on the floor, I went over to my dresser and began sifting through it in search of the smallest pair of underwear I had. At the very bottom of the overstuffed top drawer was a pair of faded tighty-wighties that I hadn’t worn in years. They were much too small for me to currently wear comfortably (and without looking like a complete fucking idiot in the locker room), so I knew that they’d be perfect for the task at hand. Unzipping my fly, I pulled off my plain black work pants, and ditched the similarly colored boxers out of which my boner was currently poking. I pulled on the outgrown pair (wondering why I even still had them as I did so), and turned to the full-length mirror that hung next to my dresser. Even at a mere seven inches, my rock-hard dick looked pretty big in the outdated underwear.
All in all, I wasn’t completely unhappy with my appearance. Hell, there were even some days when I thought that I was pretty fucking hot. I was pretty thin (but I considered this a plus, seeing as how the vast majority of the planet’s inhabitants wanted to slim down to my size). I’d been gifted with naturally curly brown hair that looked good without requiring any sort of time-consuming maintenance, and my skin had always been miraculously clear. But, just like everyone else, there were many things reflected back at me that I wanted to change. I felt that my nose was a little big, and that I could really benefit from gaining a few pounds of muscle mass; my ears were a little too pronounced for my liking. And, of course, there was my dick, which I had always wished could’ve been at least a few inches bigger—if not solely for the fact that, being a size queen, I felt that I should be able to flaunt exactly what it was that I desired in another man. But that was at least one perceived flaw that was about to be remedied.
Soaking in one last look at my natural-sized cock (not the least bit sad to know that I would never again boast a bulge that looked so normal), I took off my work shirt and tossed it on the floor. Going back over to my bed, I sat back down, picked up the glass of water, looked one last time at the pills sitting on my blanket … and then began popping them, one by one.
After each pill had been put into my mouth, I took a sip from the cup, washing each one down with the cup’s cold contents as I had every other pill I’d ever taken. After each one had been successfully swallowed, I set the empty cup back down on the floor, looked at my eager reflection in the mirror, and waited. My boner still looked unusually big in the too-small underwear, but there was no visible change from what it’d looked like while I’d been standing up. Craig had said that the effects of the Viagrow were immediate, however I assumed that there would still be a small waiting period to endure before the pills actually began to take effect. And so I sat there, waiting … thinking about what having a giant cock would mean… .
And then, suddenly—after about a minute in which my stomach sank slightly at the thought of perhaps having been fooled by Craig—it started.
The only way I can think to describe the feeling of the growth is by likening it to the sensation of getting a boner. Even though I was already one-hundred percent erect, my dick began to feel as though it were becoming even harder—this sensation of hyper-turgidity making the previous sensation of solidity feel as though I’d been flaccid. Looking down, I watched as my dick pressed harder and harder against my underwear, the pinkish flesh of my phallus becoming more and more visible against the worn-out white. It grew slowly, but I could feel every single drop of blood rushing into it, and though the growth was only just noticeable, it felt as though it were happening at a rapid pace. Pushing my hands down onto the bed, I stared in amazement, my breathing accelerating as my already ridiculous-looking wood poked further and further out, the elastic band of the underwear starting to lift up off of the navel it had been so tightly clinging to. Laughing in excitement—THE PILLS WERE ACTUALLY WORKING!—I watched as the head of my bulge began to spread out, getting fatter and more mushroom-like as the girth of my dick began increasing along with its length. The sound of straining fabric began to fill the otherwise dead silence of my bedroom, and before I knew it, my seven-inch boner had clearly swelled into a solid nine inches—a good inch of its pulsing base now exposed due to the waistband of my tighty-whities having been pushed so far out by my elongating shaft.
I was tempted to touch it—have my hands feel what this unprecedented growth spurt felt like—but before I could, and with a final creak of distress, my underwear RIPPED. Growing bigger and bigger by the second, my now ten-inch, robust cock began stretching out into the open, unobstructed by fabric, no longer capable of being contained within the too-tight confines of my severely outgrown (and now ruined) underwear. As my shaft slid through the newly torn hole, I grasped it with my shaking, sweaty hands, both of which were now able to fit comfortably alongside one another on its throbbing, lengthening, thickening surface. Squeezing it, I almost ejaculated at the feeling of my cock swelling—the feeling of its ballooning length sliding through my shaking palms as it stretched further and further outward, its head now twice as big as it had been not moments before. The sound of ripping fabric continued, due to the fact that as my cock grew thicker, it stretched the hole it had torn out wider as well. I watched, basically drooling, as the vein running down the middle of my phallus grew more and more prominent, pulsing in sync with each intense throb of growth.
As I began sliding my shaking hands down its engorging length, I realized that my balls were growing too, and stared down in awe at the sight of my underwear stretching out even more as they expanded—inflating bigger and fatter just like two water balloons being pumped full to the point of bursting. They seemed to be growing faster than the rest of my junk was, and I found myself slightly troubled by this, as although Craig had told me exactly how much longer and thicker my cock was going to grow, he’d given me no information as to the size my testicles would grow to. How big were these things going to get?! They grew bigger and bigger, until it looked as though I’d shoved two huge, fat potatoes into my underwear. At that point, I didn’t even know how my underwear wasn’t in shreds.
And then, after a final throb that caused me to squeeze my dick tight and almost cum right then and there, the growth stopped.
Almost unable to catch my breath, I let go of my now enormous cock and just sat there, staring at it. What had been an average-sized, unimpressive-looking dick not moments before was now a size that made it look as though it belonged on a horse. Standing up, I made to pull off the tattered remains of my underwear, but this proved more difficult than I’d anticipated, as my dick was now so huge and hard—and my balls now so fucking fat, heavy, and low-hanging—that I couldn’t simply pull them down and slide out of them. Deciding that it didn’t really matter at this point, I ripped them further, completely freeing my now monstrous endowment. Tossing the mangled remains to the ground, I walked over to my mirror and stared at myself.
I laughed—in mingled excitement, disbelief, and astonishment—upon seeing that my scrawny, otherwise unimpressive body was now boasting a gigantic, unbelievably huge dick.
It felt AMAZING, my giant cock swinging back and forth as I turned, heavy as hell and hard as fucking steel. My balls were now so wide that standing with my legs at their natural distance apart felt as though I were squeezing them together. Unable to help myself, I walked over to my desk and swung my massive dick like a bat, knocking the shit that had been sitting on it right off. I felt like I could’ve actually played fucking baseball with the fucking thing! Curious to see if the pills had worked as precisely as Craig had said they would, I grabbed my ruler out of the desk drawer, put it up to my cock (which was now clearly almost longer than the ruler), and measured it.
Twelve inches exactly.
Laughing, I tossed the ruler to the floor and gripped my meat once again with both hands. Squeezing it over and over, I watched as the massive mushroom head flexed, the huge hole at its center opening and closing as though it were gasping for air. Taking one hand off my shaft, I began feeling my balls, each now more heavy and meaty than I’d ever thought that a set could be. They literally felt like two water balloons, so full and bouncy, and ready to EXPLODE. Letting go of them I began slapping my freak-sized rod into my free palm, each slap sounding more like a thud as my phallus smashed into the skin of my open hand.
And then I realized that there was only one thing left to do.
Sitting down at the foot of my bed, I began rubbing my dick in my still vibrating hands, watching myself in the mirror as I did so—my boner now coming up to what looked like only a few inches beneath my chest. It felt so crazy, running both of my hands up and down its arm-thick, veiny length, a good three-inches still left untouched when my fists were pressed up against each other at the base.
It didn’t take long for me to cum, as I’d been on the brink of exploding all over myself from the moment Craig had given me the Viagrow, and when I did, it was an orgasm the likes of which I had never experienced in my entire life. The pleasure was so intense, so white hot and ultimately indescribable, that my room turned into an indiscernible blur as blast after blast after blast of thick, hot, bullet-like ejaculate shot out of my towering penis, each round flying farther than I’d ever managed to shoot before. After what seemed like twenty pumps of my bodily ammunition, I let go of my shuddering dick and fell back onto my bed.
Lying there, I watched as my now foot-long monster cock slowly receded into flaccidity. Even soft, it felt fucking amazing, bigger and heavier than it had ever felt when my seven-inch boner had been fully hard. Completely soft, it was now the size of my old dick at its hardest. But even though my flaccid shaft was crazy huge, it did look a little odd next to my absolutely humongous balls, which were now always going to be that fucking massive. But I didn’t care: My junk was now so fucking monstrous that anyone who saw it would surely get down on both knees and, if not suck it, WORSHIP it.
Only then did I ask myself, How the fuck am I going to fit this thing in my pants?
Getting up off of my bed, my dick swinging back and forth and slapping against the inside of my thighs, I bent down and slipped back into my work pants. Zipping them up, I almost came again upon feeling how amazing it felt: My giant, Magnum XXXL-sized dick uncomfortably crammed into their once perfectly spacious confines, balls squeezed tight up against each other like two grapefruits, each feeling as though they could burst at any moment. I knew I had to see what it felt like being hard in my pants, and at the very thought of this—without even having to think of anything else—my dick began to swell back into a boner. It felt incredible, my donkey-dick ballooning up against the interior of the pants that had once been so perfectly roomy, but at the same time it was almost painful, and I knew that I would have to go shopping for some bigger ones. Flexing my dick, I wondered if I could rip through them too.
As I tried, I felt my phone (which was still tucked into my ass pocket) press tightly up against my butt with each flex, and only then did I remember that Craig had asked me to text him after taking the pills. Pulling my phone out, I hurriedly pulled up “Third-leg Craig” and typed THE PILLS WORKED. Clicking send, I began rubbing my dick through the strained exterior of my pants, the pleasure of touching myself augmented once again by the incredible knowledge that I was now so fucking gigantic.
Almost immediately, my phone vibrated, signaling Craig’s response.
“Did you have any doubts? ;) Send me a pic.”
Stepping back over to my mirror, I pulled down my pants, grabbed my dick with my free hand, and began to make some poses, trying to find the one that would best convey my now unnatural size. It was in that moment that I realized that I was able to do something that I’d only ever been able to dream about—something that would make the best possible picture to send Craig. Holding my cock straight up, I bent down … and began sucking it.
My dick tasted AMAZING.
“Sorry. Was self-sucking,” I texted, attaching the pic that I’d taken of me doing so. It sent, and, due to the magic of iMessage, I saw that it was read instantly, and watched as Craig began typing back.
“Dude, isn’t it AMAZING? I LOVE SUCKING MY OWN FAT GIANT HORSE COCK! What are you doing tomorrow? I want to see your $5 footlong in person.”
“I have class tomorrow, but after that, nothing,” I responded, adding the smiley face with the shades. “We can get together whenever you want after 2.”
“That’s fine. I work tomorrow, so send me your address and I’ll be over around 6. I have a surprise for you. ;)”
Wondering what exactly this surprise could be, I was tempted to ask, but, upon remembering that I now had a brand new, freak-sized dick to play with, I decided that I could wait to find out. Texting him my address and then tossing my phone onto my dresser, I sat back down on my bed, grabbed my monster meat with both hands once more, and, mouth opened wide, dove back in.
As I was in the middle of French kissing my jumbo-sized cock, I noticed a faint tingling begin to radiate throughout my feet. Pulling the juicy, pulsating head of my dick out of my drooling mouth, I looked down at them … and saw that they were growing.
Letting go of my dong, I watched in disbelief as my socks appeared to begin sliding right off of my feet, slipping further and further away from my heels as my feet lengthened. Laughing, I began jacking off as I watched, unbelievably turned on by the fact that my socks now looked as though they too were going to tear right off of my body. As the pleasure in my dick grew more and more insane as I approached my second climax, a slight pain began to build within my stretching, widening feet. Undeterred by this pain, I continued to jack off as my lowest extremities reached a size that wouldn’t possibly fit within any of the pairs of shoes that I currently owned, and at almost the exact moment that they stopped growing, I erupted: More heavy blasts of cum shooting out of my reality-defying dick, this time spraying me all over my euphoric face. As each burst hit my closed eyes and open mouth, I lost myself in the sensation of my newfound hugeness. Between my titanic dick and my now Shaquille O’Neal-sized feet, I had become what I had always so desperately longed to be: Craig.
It was common knowledge throughout the student body of Havford Falls Community College that Tony Ryan had the biggest dick on campus—a fact that he prided himself on, vocally and loudly, and that he non-verbally reiterated on a daily basis via the pronounced bulging of his well-packed crotch. Though at a purported ten-inches hard he was certainly wielding a dong that would titillate any size queen, “Tony the Ten-er” had never excited me the way that Craig had been able to, as he was not as huge all over as Craig, and boasted rather small feet that had at first led me to doubt his claims of being so hung. He also was a complete douche, being prone to taunting those peers of his who possessed junk that didn’t measure-up anywhere near his own impressive dimensions. So it was with great pleasure that I set out the day after my growth spurt to dethrone the self-proclaimed “big man on campus.”
I had a required (and utterly pointless) physical education class with him, so I did not have to wait very long for the chance to show off my newly engorged pipe. Though prior to the Viagrow-induced augmentation of my cock I had made a habit of changing in the corner of the locker room that was farthest away from Tony’s usual spot—the stage on which his low-hanging dong routinely performed for its biggest audience—my plan required me to unveil my own pride and joy right next to him, so when I walked into the locker room that morning and saw him in the midst of changing into his gym clothes, I pulled up and parked right next to him.
He looked at me with obvious confusion as I opened a spare locker and set my gym bag down on the floor, clearly perplexed as to why I would willingly elect to undress near him when there were so many other places to do so outside of his shlong’s sphere of shame-inducing influence. However, I simply ignored his smirks and exaggerated nether movements as he stood there in his underwear, sausage flopping about freely within the loose confines of his red boxers for everyone to see. (He certainly was big, his fat dick somewhere around five inches soft, but he was definitely a grower, not a shower).
It was as I kicked off my shoes (the tight size tens that I had now outgrown) and pulled down my jeans that his looks of incredulity became a single, prolonged stare of shock.
“Stuffing our crotch, are we?” he said, almost laughing as I stood there in my boxer briefs, pulling them up due to the fact that they had been sliding down under the weight of my immense (yet completely soft) dick, and even more heavy balls.
Turning to look at him with an irrepressible smirk of my own, I said, “Dude, I don’t stuff,” before proceeding to take off my shirt. Though I was scrawny, and surrounded by peers who were almost all ripped as shit, I didn’t feel a shred of my usual inadequacy, as I now had my immense dick to compensate for my lack of muscle mass.
“I’ve seen your dick, man,” Tony said, an accusatory tone in his deep voice. “How are you going to tell me that you don’t have a sock stuffed down your briefs when just the other day your bulge was barely noticeable, and now it looks like mine.” At this, he jiggled his bloated bulge with a few thrusts of his hips, causing the hefty head of his dick to peak out of the bottom of his boxers.
“You think it looks like yours?” I said, looking down at my own jutting manhood. “I don’t know … I think mine’s bigger.”
With those fighting words, Tony’s mouth clenched and his eyes narrowed.
“Well let’s see it then. Whip it out.”
Not needing to be coaxed any further into exposing my souped-up dick, I did.
“Holy shit,” Tony said, his eyes almost popping out of his head in what was certainly a mixture of awe, confusion, jealousy, and a hint of anger. “Dude, how the fuck … ?”
“Growth spurt,” I said, looking up from my fat, seven-inch softie and smiling in the stunned face of the dude who had only moments before been more than secure with his own sizeable equipment. “I must be catching a second wind of puberty or something. I’ve been growing a lot these past few weeks. But I’m not complaining. It just keeps getting BIGGER.” At this last part, I shook my dick with my right hand, spinning its expansive length in a few circles as my hefty low-hangers jiggled beneath it.
He just kept staring, mouth slightly ajar, as I pulled on the plain black t-shirt I always wore for gym, leaving my mondo meat hanging out of my lowered briefs for continued adoration.
“Holy shit, look at donkey dick over here!”
Turning slightly, I saw that Joe Willard (a kid with a plain face but absolutely enormous guns) had stopped in the midst of his own undressing and was looking at my nether regions as though I had another head growing out of my groin.
“Damn, dude—what are you feeding that thing?” he said, walking on over (in nothing more than a pair of tight black Abercrombie briefs that boasted almost no bulge at all) and looking down at my dick as though inspecting it for authenticity.
Before I knew it, I was surrounded by all those whom I had previously been so intimidated by: the pack of Adonis-like wrestlers, football players, and other assorted jocks who were now all dumbfounded by the sight of my behemothic meat—the monstrous dick that made their bulging biceps and shredded six-packs look like unnecessary and unimpressive ornaments of the male body. Though I would have loved to just continue standing there, basking in the awe, stares, and exclamations of disbelief that poured at me from every dude present, I pulled up my briefs and slid into my shorts (through which the outline of my giant cock would remain prominent enough to garner the stares of my newfound fans throughout the duration of the class). Throwing my gym bag into my locker and closing it, I squeezed my massive feet back into my too-small shoes, gave Tony one last smirk, and walked out of the locker room, Tony still just standing there, staring at me in defeat as I did so.
After class, I swung by the mall, as my shoes were now so uncomfortable with my engorged, Craig-like feet crammed into them that they felt as though they were about to explode out at any moment. Usually I bought my shoes at Zumiez, but I decided to stop at Foot Locker as I figured that they, being an athletic footwear store, probably catered to a section of the population with bigger than average feet. Walking in, I immediately caught the attention of one of the bored-looking employees, who I smiled at as I walked over to the bench set up near the men’s wall.
“How’s it going?” the employee (“Steve,” according to his nametag) said, looking down at my feet as he did so, seemingly assessing the situation right off the bat. He was a good looking guy, with wavy black hair, a thick, veiny neck, and a strong chin that boasted a rather defined cleft. His arms were big and tight against his short sleeves, and his perky, round butt looked as though it would’ve felt amazing squeezed around my massive dick.
“Good,” I said, smiling as the look on his handsome face turned from one of unenthused politeness to obvious confusion: My shoes looked as though they were about to burst apart.
“As I am sure you can tell, I am here for some new shoes,” I said, sitting down and beginning to untie my strained footwear. “I think I’ve outgrown these things.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve said, watching as I pulled off my defeated shoes, exposing my massive, Frankenstein-looking feet. “Damn, dude—you’ve got some big ass feet.”
“I know,” I laughed, stretching my legs and propping my giant, veiny stumps up on my thick heels. I wasn’t wearing any socks, as all the pairs I owned no longer stood a chance of fitting. “I don’t know how, but they’ve been growing lately, so I don’t even know what size I am anymore.”
“Growing? Still?” Steve said, clearly puzzled as to how someone my age could still be growing.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to sound as though it were a horrible predicament. “They just keep getting bigger and bigger. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel like I’m turning into Bigfoot or something.” As I said all this, I began to pop a boner, as talk of growing never failed to get me horny.
Still looking as though he was unable to believe what he was seeing, Steve bent down and pulled out a Brannock Device from underneath the bench, placing it down on the ground by my feet. As he did so, I caught a whiff of his cologne, and my eyes almost rolled into the back of my head at the deliciousness of it. It smelled light straight-up MAN.
“Well, let’s see what we’re working with,” he said, clearly as curious as me to see just how big my freak feet were.
“Ugh, it’s a tight squeeze …” I said, trying my best to shove my huge left foot into the measuring device—ultimately to no avail.
“It’s no use. My foot’s just too big. It won’t fit.”
“That’s nuts,” Steve said, picking up the device and looking at it as though he couldn’t believe that it had failed. “But there are other ways of figuring out what size shoe you need. I mean, I can tell you right now that we probably don’t carry your size—something I’ve never had to tell anybody before—but we can order some for you custom, if you want.”
“Alright,” I said, incredibly turned on by the fact that they wouldn’t be able to accommodate my abnormal size, but simultaneously annoyed that I would have to continue wearing the overstretched shoes that I had stomped in with.
Steve disappeared for a few moments, returning with a tape measure—a fucking TAPE MEASURE!—in hand.
“We can measure those things with this,” he said, kneeling down and extending the tool’s yellow tongue, “and then convert the inches into the right shoe size. I’m guessing you’re gonna be a size sixteen or so… .”
My dick began to throb as he measured, the sight of him having to extend the tape’s tongue out further than he had anticipated—and the ensuing look of disbelief on his face—making my dick start to trickle with precum.
“So it looks like you’ve got a fourteen-inch foot,” he said, letting the tape measure recoil, standing up. “Which means that you’re gonna need a size twenty shoe to cover those things. And I thought I had big feet… . I’m a size thirteen.”
“Oh shit,” I said, staring down at my monster feet and shaking my head. “I’ve been wearing a size ten.”
“A size ten?” he said, both his tone and expression accusing me of lying. “You’re saying that your feet have recently grown from a size ten to a size twenty?”
“I guess so,” I said, unable to fully believe it myself. When Craig had said that the Viagrow would make parts of my body aside from my dick grow, I’d never imagined that my feet would benefit so greatly from the pills.
“Well, the girls are gonna love you,” Steve said, staring down with a look that I could only interpret as longing as I wiggled my huge, fat toes. He may as well have been licking his lips. “You know what they say… .”
“Oh, don’t even get me started on THAT growing problem of mine… .” I said, getting even harder. At this, Steve’s eyes looked as though they were going to pop right out of his strong-chinned head.
“Oh? Uh … is that part of you … uh … growing as well?” He folded his muscular arms against his striped shirt and clumsily leaned against a display of basketball shoes—all of which my feet would’ve dwarfed.
“Let’s just say that after this, I have to go and get some new underwear, too.”
Steve laughed—a forced, nervous laugh—and from the way that he put his hands in his pockets and positioned himself I just knew that he was attempting to hide an oncoming boner.
“Yeah, man,” I continued, enjoying the reaction that talking about my growth was having on him. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. First my feet started growing, then my dick. I mean, it’s getting HUGE. Like, almost impossible to work with huge, if you know what I mean.”
“I … um … that sounds rough,” Steve said, his boner now visible through his khakis. Although it wasn’t anywhere near as noticeable as mine, it was still pretty nice: It looked very thick, probably with a nice fat mushroom head on it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, gesturing to his crotch, causing him to look down and adjust himself quickly. “I didn’t mean to make that happen.”
“It’s fine,” he said, actually cracking a genuine (if not still nervous) smile. “It’s just that you talking about how huge you’re getting … it’s so hot, if you don’t mind me saying… .”
“I don’t mind,” I said, smiling. With that, I ran my hand down my left leg, smoothing out the creases in my jeans, revealing the ridiculous bulge that my now fully hard cock was making.
“Holy shit,” he said, staring down at the massive lump my log was making. It looked as though I had shoved a fucking hairspray bottle down my pants.
“Told ya its huge,” I said, squeezing the middle of my shaft and shaking it through my jeans.
“Shit, how fucking big is that thing?” Steve said, throwing all restraint to the wind.
“A little over twelve inches. And you should see my balls, man. Fucking like two huge grapefruits. They just keep swelling up, fatter and fatter. I mean, squeezed into my jeans, they feel like they’re gonna POP.”
At this, Steve’s bulge began pulsating, and looked as though it blew up a little bit bigger.
“C-can I see it?” he stammered, wide-eyed, clearly no longer caring that he was on the clock.
“Yeah,” I said, standing up, massive bulge becoming even more blatant, giant, bare feet knocking over the shoes that I would soon be forced to discard. “Is there a bathroom in this place?”
“Follow me,” Steve said, dropping the tape measure into one of the big display shoes and walking towards the back of the place, looking around quickly as though making sure that nobody was watching. I followed, stomping along with my massive extremities, boner throbbing in anticipation of being let loose for another round of showing-off.
“Shit, this is crazy,” Steve said, voice shaking, as he gestured for the open bathroom door just beyond the cash registers. I couldn’t help but smile at how the tables had turned: Steve was where I had been just yesterday, and I was now Craig, getting ready to show off my jumbo-sized dong.
Stepping inside the bathroom and seeing my reflection in the rather dusty mirror, I almost burst out laughing: My bulge was the most obscene-looking thing that I had ever seen in my life. While Craig’s had been somewhat obscured by the bagginess of his jeans, mine was augmented in magnitude against the tightness of mine.
Steve closed the door behind him (casting one last furtive look about the store before doing so), and then locked it. Turning to face me, he leaned back against the door, breathing heavily in anticipation.
“Let’s see it,” he said, starting to massage his own inflated crotch as I undid my belt … staring down with baited breath as I unzipped my fly… .
“Oh my FUCK!”
“Go ahead—touch it,” I said, letting it stand there, completely unsupported by anything other than its own erectness, seemingly defying gravity by doing so due to its utter hugeness and sheer weight.
Getting down on his knees, Steve came right up to me, grabbing my titanic shlong in both of his big, smooth hands, rubbing its excessive length with as much fervor as one who had just gained the sense of touch. “This is the biggest fucking dick I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he breathed, squeezing my foot-long shaft, causing me to lean my head back and close my eyes, the pleasure of him doing so almost making my pulsing dick shower his face with cum right then and there.
“Suck it,” I said, looking back down at him and running my hands through his thick, curly hair.
“I’ll try,” he said, looking up at me as though what he really wanted to do was ditch his pants and spread his hot, thick ass for me. “I don’t know how much of this thing I can fit in my mouth… .”
As it turned out, he was able to fit a lot.
At one point, he pulled it out of his mouth and, bending down, began kissing my gigantic feet, leaving me to suck myself as he did so.
“Your feet as so fucking huge,” he breathed, licking all fourteen-inches of my clodhoppers, rubbing them with the same enthusiasm that he had my oversized penis. “I gotta tell you, it’s your giant ass feet that had me popping that boner out there. I have a foot fetish, and yours are the biggest that I’ve ever fucking seen… .”
“And they’re getting even bigger,” I reminded him, pulling my dick out of my salivating mouth. Lifting up my right foot, I began rubbing it against his muscular back, causing him to moan in pleasure as though I had begun sucking his dick.
“You like that?” I said, continuing to run my monster foot all over him as I pointed my equally monster dick straight down, squeezing it so that its ballooning head swelled to its fattest, the hole in the center gaping wide as though begging to be fed.
“Yeah,” he moaned, massaging his swollen crotch.
“Stick your finger in my dick head,” I said, keeping it flexed as Steve obliged, inserting his thick pointer finger into the gaping hole of my cock.
“Shit, you’re so fucking HUGE!” At this, he undid his fly with the hand that wasn’t stimulating me, letting his own dick flop out. Even in the presence of my monstrosity, I was impressed: His thick, veiny, slightly curved cock had to be at least nine inches, with a pair of fat, juicy balls hanging low beneath it, each jiggling with excitement as he began jerking.
“What about my balls? Do you like my big, fat fucking basketballs?” I asked, leaning back once more and vibrating in ecstasy as he pulled his finger out of my dick hole and began to feel my overflowing sack—fondling each of my unbelievably huge balls with his free hand.
“Oh fuck yes,” he said, before grabbing my dick once again and beginning to suck it with full force.
And then I came.
Pulling the bulbous, ass-like mushroom head out of his stretched mouth, he held my dick in front of his face as it twitched, flexed, and vibrated with each blast of ejaculate—every ounce of it hitting him in the face; in his open mouth; on his big, sexy chin; his big tongue wagging about, until he looked as though his entire face was completely coated in my cum. When I had finished, and my dick began to recede back into a state of flaccidity, he just continued holding it in his shaking hands, his seemingly permanent expression of incredulity unwavering as my dick stopped shrinking and returned to its smallest form of seven thick, fat inches.
“Dude, I think you ARE becoming a giant,” he said, letting go of my dong—letting it flop down and thud against my bent leg. Getting up, he began wiping my cum off of his masculine face.
“I told you,” I said, almost getting hard again at his observation. “I just keep growing… .”
Still fully hard, Steve looked down at his own throbbing dick, and said, “I’ve never been less proud of my cock than I am right now.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, wagging my dick around as I looked at his heavy meat. “You’ve got a big ass dick. What is it, nine inches?”
“Yeah, a few inches over…” he said, smiling, but still clearly overcome by a feeling of inadequacy.
“And it’s so fucking thick,” I said, leaning forward and grabbing it. Squeezing it in my hand, I watched as he closed his eyes and moaned, hands coming to rest down on his strong hips, dick throbbing rapidly.
“Flex for me,” I said, and at this, his dick seized up, swelling to its maximum hardness, the thick vein running down the middle swelling even more prominent. I laughed.
“Not your dick—your massive fucking guns.”
“Oh,” he said, laughing. Lifting up his bulging arms, he flexed—his veiny, huge biceps looking as though they were going to rip out of his work shirt.
“You’re fucking sexy as hell,” I said, standing up and running my hands all over his tremendous guns, Steve watching in rekindled pride as I did so. “You’re fucking huge in your own way, man.”
“And still growing,” he replied, smiling, before leaning in and kissing me. Letting go of his gigantic muscles, I put my hands on his monstrous neck, kissing him back with full commitment, the sensation of his big, juicy lips and equally impressive tongue making my mouth feel as though it were about to climax.
“But seriously, though,” I said, after about a minute of making out and stuffing my re-solidified junk back into my tight jeans. “What am I going to do about these massive fucking feet of mine? I can’t keep wearing those shoes that I’ve been squeezing into. My feet are going to rip right out of them if I make a wrong step.”
Looking down at my behemoths as he struggled to put his own raging boner away, Steve sighed. “Well, like I said, we can order a pair for you, and they should be here in about a week. Again, I think you’re gonna be a size twenty. I can show you what shoes we have that actually come in that size, if you want.”
“Yes please,” I said, successfully tucking my boner sideways behind my belt so as to reduce its striking visibility.
After we had both inspected ourselves in the mirror to make sure that we were presentable—checked that all traces of our impromptu romp were gone—Steve opened the door and walked back out onto the floor. Right behind him, I cast one last look at myself in the mirror. Even tucked behind my belt, my giant dick looked as though it were about to force itself back out for the world to see.
Craig had texted me that he would be picking me up around six o’clock, and though he wouldn’t tell me where it was that we were going (“It’s a surprise”), he did tell me to “dress to impress”—an instruction that I took to mean only one thing: Wear something that would flaunt my massive cock.
Once I’d gotten home from the mall, I took a quick shower and tore through my closet in an attempt to find the tightest pair of jeans that I owned. Having briefly gone through an emo phase the previous year (I’d suffered a brief moment of angst in the immediate aftermath of my parents’ divorce), I had a pair that hadn’t quite fit me even when my dick had been normal-sized, and that certainly wouldn’t fit me properly now that I’d filled-out so much. But that was the point. Squeezing into them (without any underwear on), I stood in front of my mirror and popped a boner, the resulting effect being exactly what I’d been going for. I was definitely too big for my britches.
Throwing on a black plaid shirt that I left unbuttoned toward the top and forcing my enormous clodhoppers into a forgotten pair of my dad’s old work boots that I’d found in the garage (they weren’t nearly big enough, but fit better than any of my own shoes), I waited impatiently for Craig to show up, the prospect of what we could be doing that night dominating my thoughts.
As the sun set, I sat there in the gathering darkness of my room, stereo blasting in order to drown out the sound of my mother and her boyfriend laughing downstairs as they had their “date night,” the pressure of my feet in those too-small boots and the sensation of my unrelentingly hard dick crammed into my skinny jeans almost too pleasurable to bear. Though I contemplated jacking off as I waited for Craig to show, I refrained from doing so, knowing that I would surely get off at some point during the course of the evening.
I got his text seemingly at the exact moment I saw the headlights appear in the driveway: “Here.”
Literally jumping up off of my bed, I didn’t even bother texting him a response. I just turned off my sound system, threw myself out of my room, and flew down the stairs. My mother and her boyfriend were canoodling over in the living room, so as I opened the front door I shouted, “See you guys later! Have fun!” before slamming it behind me without waiting for a response.
I slowed my pace considerably as I walked down the path leading from the front door to the driveway, due to the fact that I didn’t want my excitement to show (in any way, at least, aside from my outrageous bulge). I also wanted to soak in the sight of Craig’s ride.
It was a beautiful thing: A black, gleaming Pontiac Firebird, windows tinted, wheels decked with silver rims that seemed to glow in the intensifying moonlight. The sound of some metal band poured out of the rolled-down driver’s window, out of which Craig’s muscular, tattooed arm hung, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling, raising his cig up to his mouth.
“Hola,” I said, regretting my choice of greeting as soon as it came out.
Opening the passenger door, I slid inside, the hugeness of my wood making this simple act considerably more uncomfortable than I’d ever before found it to be. Once I’d sat down and closed the door, I turned to see Craig staring down at my crotch, cig still hanging from the grin which seemed to have grown even bigger at the sight of my lap.
“Well would you look at that,” he said, taking his cig out with his left hand and rubbing my massive bulge with his right, sending a stream of smoke out of his perfect nostrils. “And how big are we now?” He squeezed my meat as he asked this, as though trying to discern my size on his own. I was reminded of a doctor performing a physical.
“Twelve inches, just like you said.” I ran my hands through my hair as he continued to massage my crotch, casting a quick look out the windshield, wondering if anyone was watching from inside the house.
“Don’t worry, my windows are tinted,” Craig said, clearly having caught my look.
“I know, I could tell. But still, I’m just wondering if anyone’s watching… .”
“Are your parents overprotective or something?” he asked, looking out at my house himself. The living room curtains were drawn, and there was no sign of either my mother or her boyfriend’s head peering through. They were probably too busy fucking on the couch.
“Well, it’s just my mom and her boyfriend, but she actually doesn’t really give a fuck what I do.”
“Well, wave goodbye to momma, because we’re headin’ out,” Craig said, shifting the car out of park and pulling out of the driveway.
“So where exactly are we off to?” I asked, hoping that Craig would actually give me an answer this time. He was silent for a few moments, just continuing to pull from his cigarette, drumming the steering wheel with his big fingers.
“Remember that buddy of mine I told you about? The one who invented the Viagrow?” he eventually said, stopping at a red light and turning to look at me, his face drenched in the red glow that made the red leather interior of the vehicle look as though it were radiating heat.
“Yeah,” I said, having given the unnamed acquaintance of his quite a bit of thought over the past twenty-four hours. I’d composed a mental image of the character that probably bore no resemblance whatsoever to the actual person: Unable to see the inventor of the bootleg dick-growth pill being anything other than a sketchy fellow, and I envisioned him as a fat, gross pervert with a thirty-inch dick that he probably flaunted in public through an old pair of sweatpants.
“Well, we’re going to his place.”
“For what?” I asked, wondering if I was expected to show the effects that the Viagrow had had on me for the purposes of Craig’s buddy’s continued research. If that was the case, I didn’t mind—but why would Craig be pussyfooting around if that was the ultimate intention of the evening? There had to be something more in store.
“You’ll see,” he said, the light turning green.
With that nugget of information leading to even more questions than it answered, I sat back and watched in silence as the night passed by through my window, Craig cranking up the music, the smell of cigarette smoke rapidly becoming the most attractive scent that had ever met my nose.
After about twenty minutes, we would up in a part of town that I had never before ventured to. From the size of the houses and the newness of the various other buildings lining the even, litter-less streets, I could tell that it was a wealthy neck of the woods.
“Almost there,” Craig said, turning onto a residential street (“Telland Courte,” according to the fancy sign that stood at its mouth).
The houses here were absolutely enormous, each with sweeping, well-manicured lawns whose perfection was obvious even while illuminated by nothing more than the orange glow of the lampposts lining the street. Shiny, expensive-looking cars sat still and silent in every driveway, and after about a minute of driving at a slow creep I saw that it was a cul-de-sac—its end composed of a ring of the biggest houses I’d ever seen, a grassy island with an elaborate bed of flowers resting at its center. Though I found myself eagerly anticipating driving around the circle and trying to catch glimpses of the interiors of the castles majestically lining it, Craig pulled into one of the driveways a few houses before it, and though I was moderately disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to get a good view of the street’s crown jewels, I was nonetheless impressed by the home that stood at the top of the sloping driveway in which we’d parked.
It was a large, ranch-style house, with white brick siding and a pinkish-tiled roof, a chimney reaching into the night sky toward the back. Two vast windows stretched across the front of the edifice, flanking an inverted porch lit by a round lamp that hovered over the large, shiny double front doors. The lawn, like those of the neighboring properties, stretched out seemingly for miles before it, grass even and clearly well groomed; a wide walkway lined with shrubs cut through it, leading from the driveway to the enclosed porch.
“Cute, isn’t it?” Craig said, putting the car in park, looking out at the house with a fondness that told me that he’d been here many times.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, unable to believe that such an impressive property existed within the middle-class town of Havford Falls.
“Be sure to tell The Doc that—he loves compliments,” Craig said, turning the car off and opening his door.
“The Doc?” I said, stepping out of the vehicle myself and closing the door gently behind me.
“Yeah, that’s what we call him,” Craig said, slamming his own door and adjusting his bulge, keys jingling in his hand as he did so. “And oh, I almost forgot: Before we go in, you have to think of a nickname for yourself.”
“A nickname? Why?” I asked, having never had a nickname before, and wondering why I suddenly required one now.
“Just because. It’s customary. Like how I told you to put me in your phone as ‘Third-Leg Craig’? You need to think of something like that for yourself. I mean, I can help you, if you want. I already have a few ideas … I’ve been thinking about what we’d call you since I gave you the Viagrow… .”
“‘Who’s ‘we’?” I asked, guessing that he was referring to “The Doc.”
“You’ll see,” Craig said, clearly still not wanting to give up any details about exactly what he had in store for me. The suspense was actually starting to get annoying.
“Well, let’s hear them,” I said, leaning against the hood of his car, curious to see what nicknames he’d come up with—my own imagination unable to generate anything on par with “Third-Leg Craig.” (Tony probably would’ve been able to think of something good, having started the “Tony the Ten-er” moniker himself.)
“Okay. What about, ‘Giant Johnny’?” he said, shoving his keys in the back pocket of his jeans and stepping on over to me, reaching over and patting my bulge.
“You know what, I think that’s it,” I said, not needing to hear any more suggestions. “Giant Johnny”: Simple, and with a nice ring to it.
“Giant Johnny it is,” Craig said, clearly pleased that he’d scored a goal on his first shot. As to why I needed the appellation I was still unsure, but I knew that I would be finding out soon enough.
Adjusting himself quickly one last time, Craig began to walk up the driveway, and I imagined his massive feet putting dents in its perfect, crack-less surface with each of his heavy footfalls. Following him, I for a moment thought that we were going to walk all the way to the garage, which looked like a mini version of the house it belonged to, standing huge and lamp-lit at the far end of the driveway, door closed. (It was bigger than some houses that stood back in my neck of the woods.) But Craig stopped about halfway along the house’s side and opened the white door built almost imperceptibly into it, holding it open for me as he stepped into the darkness that lay beyond its screened surface.
“Thanks,” I said, letting the door swing closed behind me, watching as Craig went down the flight of stairs that led to the basement. The steps creaked at each increment of his descent, and I assumed that it was because of his immense size, as the house appeared far too new to possess such noisy stairs. I slowly followed him down, each step carefully executed due to the sheer size of my own huge feet. The last thing I wanted was to have my first encounter with “The Doc” be highlighted by me tumbling down into his midst.
Craig stood waiting for me at the bottom, illuminated in the light emanating from the open door to his left. He watched as I finally neared the bottom, the sound of an indiscernible amount of male voices billowing out of the room. Smiling at me, he stepped into the light, the voices within falling into silence.
“Gentleman, allow me to introduce our newest member, Giant Johnny.”
Stepping through the doorway, I was barely able to repress the gasp that the sight before me roused.
Sitting in a circle in the large room that stretched out before me was a group of the largest men that I had ever seen in my entire life—and by largest I mean that every bulging inch of every one of them was fucking massive to the point of them almost looking like cartoon characters. Bulging biceps. Monstrous chests. Legs that seemed to extend for days, with feet contained within footwear that could’ve fit mastodons. And all of them—every enormous, mega-sized man present—was boasting a crotch that looked as though it were seconds away from exploding against the strain of what was stuffed beneath it.
In that moment—during which I could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at the colossal men staring back at me—I realized exactly what kind of “club” this was: It was a Viagrow support group.
“Welcome to the club, man,” Craig said. He was gesturing to me as though he was a magician, and I was the rabbit that he had just pulled out of a hat. Stepping further into the giant-filled room (some of its occupants so gigantic that they made Craig look positively small), I waved, managing only a weak, “Hey.”
At this, everyone stood up, and before I knew it, I was shaking the biggest, strongest hands that I had ever had the pleasure of grasping; a seemingly endless succession of handshakes that I couldn’t even properly register in the throws of my awe-induced stupor. They were saying things to me, but all I heard was a continuous blur of deep, testosterone-soaked thunder. When I had been greeted by all present, I was ushered to a seat of my own; a folding chair next to which Craig sat down, spreading his legs as wide as his smile as I slowly regained the ability to comprehend what I was experiencing.
“Well, Giant Jonny, it’s good to meet you,” a man sitting at the middle of the ring said, as much excitement etched onto his face as there was coursing through my dick. He was older, probably somewhere in his fifties, but very good looking; age suited him. His slicked-back hair was grey, as was his mustache and short beard, all just as full as his muscular torso, arms bulging out of the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt. He looked like a jacked Burt Reynolds.
“Same to you,” I said, still looking around at the monstrous men surrounding me, all staring back as though I were the entrée that they had been waiting patiently to dig into.
“My name is John, too, but everyone just calls me ‘The Doc,’” the older gentleman said.
So he was the one who had invented the pill that had granted all those present with such giant dicks… .
“Well, Doc, I just want to say thank you. Without your invention, I wouldn’t have this,” I said, grabbing my inflated dick and shaking it through my jeans, my bravado flowing back into me as shock ceded to undiluted excitement.
“You’re quite welcome,” The Doc said, looking at me and the lump in my jeans as though he were an artist appraising his latest masterpiece. “Guys like you are the reason that I do what I do.”
“Yeah, guys who want giant fucking monster cocks,” Craig said, to the audible approval of his peers, all of whom began to grip their own ballooning privates in agreement.
“I’m sure you have a bunch of questions for me, Johnny, and I fully intend to answer all of them, but first, how about we all introduce ourselves properly to our newest member? Al, would you care to start?”
“Sure thing,” the guy sitting next to me said, turning and nodding at me in welcome. He was wearing a red baseball cap atop his roundish, shaven head, his watermelon-sized guns stretching the short sleeves of his grey t-shirt to the max. “I’m Magnum X-Al. 6’5’’, size twenty shoes, sixteen-inch dick.”
With that brief introduction, the guy next to him (handsome, angular face, short dark hair, massive torso squeezed into a grey sweatshirt) waved a huge, long-fingered hand. “Big Billy, 6’7’’, size twenty-one shoes, sixteen-inch cock.”
“Danaconda, 6’4’’, size twenty shoes, twelve-inch shlong,” said the guy next to Big Billy. He was the hottest nerd that I’d ever seen, with short, curly blonde hair and glasses that almost threatened to detract from his hotness, but fell short of succeeding in the midst of the huge lump pounding through his pants.
Continuing down the line …
“Foot-long Fred, 6’8’’, size twenty-two feet, twelve-and-a-half inches long in the pants.” He had a long face that ended in a strong, prominent chin, wavy blonde hair, and legs the kneecaps of which seemed to stretch a good foot away from the bottom of his large shorts (out of which his oversized dick stretched about two inches, the head of which he was rubbing contentedly).
“Gary Girth. I’m 6’2’’, wear a size nineteen shoe, thirteen inches long, but nine-and-a-half inches wide.” He was extremely cute, with short brown hair gelled into a quiff, beautiful blue eyes, and a face that looked as though it belonged in the pages of GQ. Aside from me, he looked like he was the youngest one there.
“Huge Hal. 6’10’’, size twenty-three feet, and a fifteen-and-a-half inch dick.” Hal was by far the tallest guy present, looking as though he could’ve busted through the ceiling if he stood on the tiptoes of his incomprehensibly vast feet (which were pouring so far over the front of his sandals that he may as well have not even been wearing them). He was bald, but his face was attractive enough to not need hair, and his baggy jeans shifted crazily as he flexed the fifteen-and-a-half inch pipe held within them.
“Hung Jung. 6’4’’, size twenty-three feet, fourteen-inch cock.” The hottest (and not to mention hugest) Asian dude I’d ever seen, Jung was unbelievably good-looking, with perfectly quaffed hair, high cheekbones, and biceps that looked like basketballs. I made a mental note to myself to ask him where he’d gotten his immense shoes, as even though they were size twenty-three, they appeared to be the only ones in the room that comfortably contained their contents.
“I’m King Size Ken. I’m 6’5’’, size twenty feet. My dick’s just recently grown to twelve-and-a-half inches.” He was by far the most attractive guy present, looking like he could’ve been an Abercrombie model. His hair was wavy and brown; his ears were rather prominent, but compared to every other part of his gorgeously huge physique, they were practically miniscule. He was wearing baggy army shorts, but his bulge wasn’t popping through them; rather, it was protruding from underneath his navy blue t-shirt, its thickness pressed up against this stomach, held there by his belt.
“Hi, I’m Mammoth Mike. I’ve got size twenty-two feet, and a fourteen-inch dick.” He was the only black guy present, but represented very well. Wearing a too-small wife beater, the tattoos adorning his large biceps depicted a cluster of beautiful, long-haired women; the gaping sockets of his loose shorts fluttered open and closed as he flexed his dong.
“Monster Matt’s the name. I’m 6’4’’ tall, my feet are size eighteen, and my dick’s fourteen inches long … and still growing.” With a long, boxy jaw and slightly squinty eyes, Matt was probably the least attractive guy present, but with the bulge that he was boasting through his loose gym shorts, he could’ve been the ugliest person on the planet and it wouldn’t have mattered.
“I’m Titanic Nick (Titanick for short). I’m 6’3’’, size twenty-four feet, and last time I checked, my dick was thirteen inches long.” He had a thick brown beard, and his feet were definitely the biggest in the room: He wasn’t wearing any shoes, so his thick, freak-sized stumps were fully exposed, his fat, bulbous toes wiggling as he scratched his facial hair, arms crossed against his chest (which appeared to be quite hairy beneath his white v-neck).
“Packin’ Jack. 6’5’’, size twenty feet. The dick’s fourteen-inches long and thick as shit.” He was another one of the sexier men present, with buzzed black hair and the beginnings of a thick beard. His arms were jacked and tatted (as seemed to be the trend with this group), and his vast black boots pulsed as though they were breathing heavily.
“Big Dick Rick. 6’2’’, size nineteen feet. Sixteen-inch dick and a pair of balls like you’ve never fucking seen.” He was Latino, with thick eyebrows, thick lips, and even thicker legs on which his massive hands rested.
“Well show the kid,” Huge Hal said, not letting Rick’s claim of packing such impressive balls go unverified.
With that, Big Dick Rick unzipped his fly and, after a few moments in which he was ultimately unable to pull out his balls, simply pulled down his jeans and revealed his inordinate equipment.
“Fucking shit,” I said, jaw dropping. And I thought MY balls had grown too big: Beneath his fully erect, whale-sized dick (which made Craig’s suddenly seem so unimpressive), each of Rick’s testicles was the exact size of a football.
“Guys loving being smothered with these things. Right Ken?” Rick said, winking at King Size Ken, who just licked his lips in agreement.
“Scott the Shlong,” the next guy up said. “6’ tall. Size eighteen feet. Twelve-inch shlong.” He was the most normal looking of the group, with messy, thin black hair and old-looking glasses. He was wearing a faded red t-shirt and sweatpants that belonged to some sports team that I didn’t recognize. His dick appeared to be soft within them, but his bulge was delicious nonetheless.
“Willy the Whopper. 6’4’’, size twenty-two feet. Fifteen inch dong.” He had a slight accent that I was inclined to place as Russian, and a rather big, bumped nose. Each of his ears was pierced with a thick silver ring, and the inner left thigh of his khakis was dark with what was obviously precum at the tip of his extensive bulge. Despite his nose and his rather greasy appearance, I decided that he was the giant in the room with whom I’d most like to have sex with—aside, perhaps, from Hung Jung, who I found myself continuing to cast quick looks at.
“I feel left out,” Craig said, faux-frowning. Sitting next to Willy the Whopper, he would’ve been next up to describe his dimensions.
“Just go for it,” The Doc said. “I’m sure we’d all like an update on your measurements.”
Everyone made their agreement clear.
“Third-Leg Craig, 6’4’’, size twenty feet, thirteen-and-a-half inch horse cock,” Craig said, standing up and pulling down his jeans, letting his monstrous dong flop on out, thick and pumping with blood. Grabbing it in both of his hands, he squeezed, causing the huge mushroom head to swell to the point of looking as though it were going to pop.
“That’s my boy,” Willy the Whopper said, patting Craig on the back, as everyone who hadn’t yet whipped out their dicks did so—some taking more time as others due to the difficulty of them being so endowed.
“It’s your turn,” Craig said, looking down at me as he stroked his dick.
Standing up, I pulled down my own jeans, letting my free-balling meat erupt out into the open. It was one of the smallest pieces of equipment in the room, but I didn’t care: At twelve inches, I was still rightfully part of this fraternity of freak-sized men.
“My name’s Giant Johnny. I’m 6’. My feet recently hit size twenty. My dick’s twelve inches long, and as you can see, my monster balls give Big Dick Rick a run for his money.” At this, Rick laughed, holding each of his titanic balls in his hands, looking as though he were about to start juggling them. “I don’t think so, kid,” he said, and I just laughed with everyone else.
For a few minutes, we all just sat around staring at each other and our monstrousness, some of us feeling each other up; King Size Ken actually bending over and shoving as much of Mammoth Mike’s forearm-sized shaft as he could down his throat. (Despite the tattoos of women on his arms, Mike clearly wasn’t against getting serviced by a dude.)
“Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves, let’s get down to business,” The Doc said, being the only one who hadn’t exposed his manhood. In fact, as I looked at him, I saw that his bulge wasn’t even prominent. Hell, it wasn’t even visible. Did he not reap the benefits of his own creation?
“Johnny,” he said, snapping me out of my theorizing as to why his own crotch wasn’t busting at the seams, “I’d like to tell you a little bit about myself, and how this here group of giants came to be.”
“It’s a good story, don’t worry,” Monster Matt said, rubbing the head of his dick with his palm.
“Sure fucking is,” said Titanick, who was holding his huge right foot up to his dick, comparing the lengths of each of his jumbo-sized appendages.
“Back in the day, I used to work for the government,” The Doc said, and everyone fell silent, playing with their monstrous cocks in rapt attention. “Stationed out in Nevada, I was part of a project dedicated to maximizing the potential of the human body. Though at first the aim was to increase the stamina, strength, and capabilities of our physique for the purpose of excelling in warfare, an exploration into the potential for bodily augmentation eventually took precedence, this project coming to be known as ‘Project Goliath’ (for obvious reasons). My partner at the time was a man named Wayne Hernel, and he was quite simply the most brilliant man I’d ever met. It was his experimentation and theorizing that led to the creation of Viagrow’s predecessor, a growth formula he deemed ‘Gogmagog.’ Named after the legendary giant of folklore, this concoction was designed to promote extreme growth within those who consumed it, and was ultimately the exact thing that the government had hoped that we’d create. However, though it successfully promoted growth to a degree previously unheard of, it was not without its flaws—one of these flaws being that once the growth began, it didn’t seem to want to stop.
“The trials of Gogmagog resulted in the death of numerous test patients—young men who had volunteered to take the drug in the hopes of growing huge. Some of them were scrawny, while others were already quite large, desiring only to grow even bigger. But though Gogmagog worked, every one of those volunteers grew too big—some literally exploding right before our very eyes. Every time that happened, Wayne would just shrug it off, insisting that the NEXT time, the formula would work properly, and that the men taking it would grow only to the desired size, and then stop. But with each passing trial, history repeated itself, until the higher-ups decided that our attempts at perfecting the drug were futile. Despite our successes, they decided to pull the program, citing our inability to put a cap on Gogmagog’s augmentative effects as a sign of the project’s failure. But Wayne wouldn’t have that. In the midst of the shutting down of our labs, Wayne stole as much of our equipment and research as he could, determined to work out the kinks in his creation. You see, he was more invested in the project than anyone else had been, as it had been his lifelong dream to himself become a giant. He told me this numerous times, mostly over drinks, saying that he wanted to become just as huge as the giants of legend—to tower above the rest of the world, and be worshipped for his immensity. Though I personally felt that such ambitions were a bit excessive, I nonetheless aided him in his attempts to perfect Gogmagog, knowing that we were so close to succeeding, and knowing how profitable such a drug could be. For while I knew how personally motivated Wayne was to become a giant, I also knew that he was not alone: There were many others out in the world who desired to grow huge, and who’d be willing to pay any amount of money to get their hands on a drug that would grant their wildest wishes. For weeks we toiled in secret, in a makeshift lab that we’d constructed from the salvaged materials of the government facility,
down in Wayne’s own basement. But as we were only a breath away from perfecting our wonder drug, it happened. Though I knew that there were still adjustments that had to be made, Wayne disagreed: He insisted that the drug was finished. And so, unable to recruit any guinea pigs on which we could test Gogmagog (lest we desired to risk being caught by those who had shut us down), Wayne took the drug himself. And, as I’d expected, the effects proved catastrophic.
“He took it there in the lab one night, refusing to entertain any of my urges for him to wait just a little bit longer. It was in liquid form, and he downed an entire vile of it. A few drops would’ve sufficed, but Wayne was hell-bent, as I’ve said, on growing not just huge, but GIGANTIC. I remember his excitement: He was laughing as he began to grow, bursting out of his clothes, his feet leaving his shoes in shreds, stretching up to the ceiling as the inches piled on. He was particularly in awe at how much his genitals grew, exploding out of his underwear like a log bursting through water. At one point, the growth seemed to stop—his insistence of the formula having been perfected seemingly validated. But then it began again, and his laughs of success quickly turned into screams of agony—those familiar cries of pain filling the room as he grew too large, the bones of his feet looking as though they were growing too fast, about to tear right through his skin. I can still see him pushing up against the ceiling with his elongating hands, trying to force his body back down, but to no avail. Before I knew it, he gave out one last scream of pain before his flesh tore, his muscles and organs bursting out, spilling out onto the floor. He was then nothing more than a pile of blood, tissue and bone, swelling on the floor even after he’d ruptured, eventually stopping as the majority of the basement was covered in his remains.
“Horrified, I vowed to do what I should’ve done after the project had originally been abandoned, resigning myself to the fact that the operation was indeed a failure, and knowing that without Wayne I would never be able to bring the dream of ‘Project Goliath’ to fruition. But time passed, and, remembering how close we’d been to succeeding, I continued with the tweaking of the concoction, eventually accomplishing what Wayne never lived to achieve. Testing what I believed to be the finished product on the last test monkey Wayne and I had taken from the government lab, I saw that Gogmagog worked. Shortly after, I was able to find someone to take the drug—resulting in its first successful human trial. That person is here with us today.”
At this, everyone looked at Huge Hal, who was sitting up straight in his seat, slapping his immense dick against his shredded navel, clearly proud of the fact that he had been the first person to survive the effects of The Doc’s concoction.
“Hal grew, right before my eyes, not to the point of hideous explosion, but to the point of fully functional glory. I’d instructed him to take it without any clothes on, and good thing I did, for he surely would have ruined a perfectly good outfit had he grown within them.”
“I wish you would’ve let me grow with that shit on,” Hal sad, clearly feeling robbed of the full experience of growth.
“Anyways, knowing that a full-body growth drug might not be the most appealing product, I managed to create a strain of Gogmagog that specifically targeted the male nether regions—the part of the anatomy that so many men can’t help but feel inadequate with. I called it ‘Viagrow’ (the tongue-in-cheek name something that I am particularly proud of). I moved here, to Havford Falls, North Dakota—far away from the coworkers and past employers who would surely have sought to stop me should they have discovered what I’d been up to. Hall accompanied me, free of any ties binding him to Nevada … and not wanting to have to explain to anyone how he had grown so much overnight. And now, here we are.”
At this, everyone began clapping. Joining in on the applause, I watched as The Doc did a little bow in his seat, as though the recital of his history had been a performance.
“Okay, let’s get to the good stuff now,” said Packin’ Jack, each of his hands at the base of his dick, rocking it back and forth, slapping it against his stomach, each impact making an audible thud.
“What can top that hot fucking story?” I asked, precum trickling down my long-ass shaft in the wake of The Doc’s too-incredible-to-fully-believe tale.
“A demonstration of The Doc’s hard work,” Danaconda said, standing up and walking over to a table that stood against the wall behind the left side of the circle. I hadn’t noticed it before: Above it hung a large painting of what appeared to be a giant, towering amongst the clouds … clouds that hung low over a green valley filled with fleeing animals and people. Reaching the table, Danaconda picked up the sole occupants of its surface: A small plate on which rested an assortment of blue and red pills.
As he took the plate back over to his seat, my dick (as impossible as it seemed) got even harder, the knowledge that I was about to witness someone else growing pushing me to the brink of full-on ejaculation.
“Do you like my painting?” The Doc asked, gesturing over to the portrait of the giant.
“Yes,” I said, not even looking back over at it; I was too enraptured with the sight of Danaconda (and his already monstrous cock) picking the pills up in his hand and shaking them around as I had only the day before.
“It’s The Colossus by Francisco Goya. One of my absolute favorites.” The Doc said this while looking at it in adoration, as though he were more interested in it than in what was about to occur. Everyone else, however, was on the same page as me—staring intently at Danaconda, eagerly awaiting his consumption of the pills, watching as he clumsily stuffed his dick back inside his pants. (He obviously wanted to feel it rip out of them.)
After a few minutes in which he basked in the collective anticipation of the room’s huge occupants, he shook the pills once more in his loosely clasped fist, just as one would when preparing to roll dice.
“Enjoy the show,” he said. Opening wide, he popped the entire handful into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He sat back, hands resting on either side of his vast lap, eyes closed, expression blank. After a few moments, in which everyone present watched with bated breath, he smiled even wider.
“Here we go,” he said.
As expected, his crotch began to bulge out, looking as though an already inflated balloon were being filled with even more air beneath the closed fly of his jeans. More and more pronounced it got, stretching further down the side of his right leg. His hands repositioned, grabbing either side of his chair, as the growth clearly got to the point where his dick no longer fat comfortably within the confines of their prison. His face twitched in seeming discomfort, but his smile didn’t falter. Like everyone else present, he clearly enjoyed the experience of growing.
The familiar sound of straining fabric filled the room, seemingly echoing in the dead silence. Every single one of the other horse-hung members began rubbing their own monster meat as Dan’s bulge began to push so far up against his jeans that his belt began to creak against the pressure. Clenching his teeth, he opened his bespectacled eyes and watched as his bulge swelled to the size of my forearm—the zipper of his fly now starting to unzip by itself. He stretched out his long legs, and I saw that his shoes appeared to be swelling, too. Almost drooling, I watched as the tops of his Converse pushed out, looking like those stove-top popcorn things did as their contents popped. The sound of his shoes straining against the force of his engorging feet only added to the shear ecstasy of the scene, and with a quick and sudden rip, his big toes tore through—first his right, then, seconds later, his left—followed by their companions, all steadily stretching out through the holes in the front. Before I knew it, his feet had grown to a point where they were sticking about three inches out of the freshly torn holes.
“Oh SHIT!” Dan breathed, wiggling his giant, thick, swelling toes, just as the sound of his stressed jeans reached its climax. With another loud tearing, his swelling dick finally burst out, throbbing, springing up from the side of his thigh to stand straight up in front of him—a monstrous, growing dick, almost as thick as his leg. It continued to stretch toward the ceiling, its veins popping out as though it were being flexed. I could almost hear it growing: Stretching, creaking like its owner’s belt, inflating to a size that even I had never dreamed of. Breathing heavily, Dan let go of the chair and pulled down his torn briefs, letting his massive balls (each the size of a melon) gush out, as they swelled along with his gargantuan shaft. Grabbing his huge sack, he leaned forward and licked the head of his dick as it continued to rise upward.
At this point, I turned to look at Craig, and saw that he was vigorously masturbating, his eyes practically popping out of his head in awe as he watched Danaconda’s anaconda grow. Looking around the room, I saw that everyone else was doing the same as they stared, transfixed, at Dan’s still engorging cock. Turning back to Dan, I watched as he now grabbed his incredible shaft (which had stretched nearly up to his chin) and squeezed it, the throbbing of its nearly fist-sized head lost within its continued growth. Repositioning his massive feet—which looked crazy monstrous with his ruined shoes still on—he stared at it, still breathing heavily, in awe of his own glory. And then, as it came up to his lips—his freak balls now spreading toward the edge of his seat—it stopped.
“Someone get the man a tape measure,” The Doc said, the only one present who appeared unfazed by what had just happened, as Dan breathed heavily, rubbing his shaking hands up and down his dick as though caressing a lover.
Gary Girth jumped out of his seat (his fat-as-fuck dong almost slapping Foot-Long Fred in the face as he did so) and stumbled over to a cabinet that stood behind Dan. Opening its top drawer, he pulled out a tape measure and handed it to Dan, who was still breathing as though he had just run a marathon. Letting go of his insane member, Dan took the measuring device from Gary (who ran back over to his seat and began masturbating again), and sized himself up.
“Nineteen inches,” he said, letting the tape measure’s tongue slide back into its mouth,
“And your feet?” Hung Jung said, sliding his finger in and out of his gaping dickhole as he watched Dan bend down and measure his gargantuan feet—each still poking out through his ruined sneakers.
“Fuck, someone do it for me, I can’t even think straight right now,” Dan said, dropping the tape measure to the floor and taking off what remained of his shoes. Bending over and grabbing the tool, Big Billy knelt down on the floor, his dick slapping into Dan’s leg. Grabbing one of Dan’s immense feet, he measured.
“You’re a size twenty-four now,” he said, standing up, letting the yellow, numbered tongue stay extended as he turned to show the room.
“Hey, you’re as big as I am,” Titanick said, sticking his feet up into the air and waving them around as he slapped his dick back and forth against each of his thick legs.
And in that moment, I’d had enough.
“FUCK,” I moaned, cumming, rubbing my throbbing dick slowly as the hot, thick cum came shooting out, flying out in waves the likes of which I’d never let forth before. Both Craig and Magnum X-Al threw themselves down in front of me, putting themselves directly in the path of my tidal wave of ejaculate. I came for what seemed like minutes—a stretch of time in which my entire body lurched and shook in ecstasy, and everyone else seemed to get off as well. When I finally stopped, I looked up, and saw The Doc just sitting there amidst all of the massive cocks, hulking arms, giant feet, and flying cum, looking around bemusedly at the fruits of his labor, hands folded across his normal-looking lap.
The entire ride home, I played my visit to The Club over and over again in my mind, unable to fully believe that what I had experienced had actually occurred. Craig just smoked, window rolled down, music playing, not needing to inquire as to why I was so silent. I knew that he knew what was going on inside my head. He knew that I’d had the time of my life.
Pulling into my driveway, I saw that the house was completely dark. Though I for a moment wondered if my mother and her boyfriend were fucking, I quickly dismissed that idea; she was almost certainly in bed, as it was 9:00. Turning down the music, Craig finished his cigarette, tossing it out the window and looking at me.
“So what’d you think?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“It was fucking incredible,” I said, reaching over and running my hand over his crotch, feeling its contents swell bigger and bigger beneath his jeans until he was fully hard.
“So when do you plan on taking that Viagrow?” he asked, referring to the goodie bag that The Doc had given me as a party favor.
“I don’t know,” I said, digging the plastic bag out of my pocket and looking at it in the glow of the car, wondering the same thing. “I mean, I’m still getting used to what round one of this stuff gave me.”
“Take your time,” Craig said, undoing his belt, unzipping his fly, and letting his excessive manhood swing up in front of him. “Don’t rush into anything you’re not gonna be able to reverse.”
Mildly surprised at his advice, I watched as he stroked his cock, slapping it against the steering wheel, pulling his balls out and rubbing them as though waiting for a genie to erupt out of his cock-hole.
“You don’t think I should pull a Danaconda and arm myself with a fucking bazooka right now?” I said, imagining what it would be like to pack a nineteen-inch dong.
“Hey, it’s your dick,” Craig said, smiling his usual sexy smile. “Wasn’t that fucking hot, though? Him growing so huge tonight?”
“FUCK, I know right?” I said, rubbing my boner through my tight jeans, wondering if I should jerk off right then and there, with Craig, or wait until I got inside.
“Well I’m gonna get heading out,” Craig said, after a few moments in which he sucked his dick, making my decision for me. “I’ll text you, alright?” He said this last part as if asking for permission.
“Sounds good,” I said, getting out, casting one final look at his magnificent shlong.
“See ya,” I said, closing the door. I watched as he pulled out of the driveway, grabbing my bulge and shaking it in goodbye. Honking twice in response, he sped off into the night.
The next day marked the beginning of what was promised to be a brief swim unit. I had never before been excited for a swim class, as (seemingly always cursed with male peers who were all uniformly jacked as shit) the aquatic portion of each physical education curriculum I’d been subjected to had always left my scrawny ass feeling inadequate amongst such bulging biceps and rock solid six-packs. But now that I was packing a twelve-inch cock, I would be breast stroking to a much different tune.
Word had clearly spread throughout the entire campus that my dick was fucking massive, because even as I walked into the locker room—fully clothed, seven-inch fully-flaccid cock completely concealed within my baggy jeans—all the guys who were already in there stared at me. I smiled to myself as I wondered whether they were hoping that I’d change next to them (so as to catch a glimpse of my now much talked about dong), or if they were praying that I wouldn’t (in the hopes of being spared the humiliation of packing such smaller equipment).
Though I at first thought about retaining my privacy while changing (as they’d all soon enough be graced with the sight of my monster dick squeezed into my brand-new Speedo), upon seeing Tony slipping out of his jeans, I decided to sit down on the bench next to him once again. I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to further rub in the fact that I was so much more hung than him.
Though it was obvious that he was putting in extra effort to not acknowledge my existence, I could feel him keep looking out of the corner of his eyes as I began to undress, as even he, the recently dethroned “big man on campus,” couldn’t help but be fascinated by my newly crowned cock. Taking off my shirt, even in the midst of my peers’ muscular builds, I felt not a shred of insecurity, as I knew that once I pulled down my pants the scales would be tipped drastically in my favor. And so, undoing my belt and pulling down my jeans, I had to try very hard to repress a grin as I realized that my dick was poking a good inch out of the bottom of my boxers—its fat, pink head twice the size of a normal soft cock’s. I waited until Tony had closed his locker and was passing by before I pulled my underwear completely down, revealing all seven, thick inches of my dick. Though Tony looked straight ahead, continuing to act as though I wasn’t there, I knew that he saw my massive meat hanging.
Slipping into my Speedo, I almost got a boner from the minor difficulty I had positioning my dick comfortably into it. The Speedo was the right size (though I had been tempted to purposely purchase one that was too small, for obvious reasons), however my dick still pressed through it to the point where anyone looking at me would do a quadruple take. For a second I almost wondered whether or not I’d be asked to change back into normal clothes once the professor saw how distractingly hung I was.
Throwing all of my shit into my own locker, I followed the rest of the guys into the showers, where we all had to wait until Mr. Hull came and unlocked the door to the pool. As I stepped in, everyone fell silent, and of course stared down at my crotch, my bright red Speedo bulging out to a degree that was unheard of for someone my age (or most normal human males in a state of flaccidity, for that matter). So there I stood, arms folded, crotch looking as though it were inflated, silently basking in the knowledge that I was now the envy of every guy I had for so long felt so miniscule compared to. Even Tony, with his white swim trunks, seemed like just another average guy, his bulge not even really that noticeable.
The door to the pool opened, and everyone (seemingly quicker than usual) stepped out of the showers. As I passed by Mr. Hull, who held the door open with a look on his face as though he hated his life, I smiled, which was completely unusual for me in the present setting. Mr. Hull just looked expressionlessly back, apparently not even noticing that it looked as though I’d shoved a big ass pickle into my Speedo. Walking across the deck, my big, size twenty feet slapping across the blue tiling, I continued to act as though I had no idea that my dick was the one thing that pretty much everyone was concerned with. Everyone, of course, save for Tony, who still looked so sullen that he might’ve been contemplating how best to drown himself.
And so I sat down on the bench, waiting along with everyone else as Mr. Hull ran down the attendance list, acting nonchalant as I ignored the quick glances I continued to get from the guys on either side of me. As Mr. Hull passed by and called my name (almost stepping on my giant feet), he didn’t even look at me, and therefore still didn’t notice the sizeable bulge sitting prominently between my spread legs. The kid next to me—this douche named Brad Minnel—had to have this name called twice, because he was too preoccupied with looking down at my generously filled-out swim gear to notice his name being called the first time.
After attendance had been completed, Mr. Hull began running through the plans for that day’s class. I sat there, not even paying attention, knowing full well that no one else was either, as their preoccupation with what was stuffed into my Speedo prevented anything else from occupying their attention. At one point, Tony appeared to have had enough of all the whispering, as he got up and asked to go to the bathroom. He of course didn’t look at me as he and Mr. Hull walked by (Mr. Hull having to unlock the door to the showers for Tony to be able to get to the toilet). As Mr. Hull fiddled with his keys, Brad nudged my arm.
“Yo, how the fuck did your dick get so big?” he asked, asking the question that everyone else had clearly been dying to have answered as well, as everyone looked over at me with a rapt attention that they had been unable to provide the teacher.
“Growth spurt,” I said. I wasn’t planning on ever revealing the true answer, not wanting to give any of those fucks the chance to stack the cards back in their favor.
“Shit,” Brad said, continuing to stare unabashedly at my bulge. “I could use one of those any day now.”
Mr. Hull trudged back on over, looking as though he would’ve killed to have been anywhere else.
“Okay, where was I …” he said, looking down at his clipboard . “Oh, right… .”
He continued droning on about all the different strokes that we were going to be practicing, and as he was unnecessarily describing the breaststroke, Tony came back on out … smiling. Confused as to what had caused his obvious change in mood, I got up just as Mr. Hull made to go close the door that Tony had forgotten (or had purposely failed) to shut behind him.
“Wait, Mr. Hull,” I said, cutting him off and striding on over to the open door. “I have to use the bathroom really quick, too.”
“Hurry up,” he said, clearly getting annoyed. “Does anyone else need to empty their bladder before I continue?” Though some of the guys looked as though they wanted to follow me in the hopes of seeing my dick in action, everyone remained seated.
Once in the showers, I ran to my locker, possessed by a sneaking suspicion that Tony had done something to my shit. Pulling out my gym bag, I looked through it, making sure that everything—especially the Viagrow that I’d absentmindedly tossed into it that morning—was still there and intact. Shaking the plastic bag in my hand, I saw that everything appeared to be just as how I’d left it … although upon further inspection, the baggie of Viagrow did seem to be a little less full.
“That son of a bitch,” I said, realizing why Tony had suddenly donned that grin.
He’d taken some of the pills.
Dropping the Viagrow into my bag and throwing it back into my locker, I took a quick sip from my water bottle (my mouth having suddenly gone very dry at the thought of Tony regaining his status of having the biggest dick in school), and stomped out of the locker room, debating as to whether or not I should bring Tony’s theft up to Mr. Hull. Deciding against it, as I didn’t want to have to explain exactly what the pills that Tony had pilfered were, I decided that I’d confront the piece of shit later.
Retaking my seat down on the bench, I said nothing as Mr. Hull thanked me for actually closing the shower door, too busy thinking about what I was going to say to Tony when I had the chance to say. Looking over at him, I saw that he was still wearing that ugly smile of his. I was seriously contemplating getting up and punching him the fucking face … when it started.
Feeling an odd flex in my dick, I looked down, and saw that my bulge was swelling (slowly, but noticeably). For a second I thought that I was getting an unprovoked boner. Having not planned on actually popping a woody during class (I hadn’t tested my Speedo’s erection-containing capabilities), I wondered whether or not I should run back to the bathroom and jack off really quick. But then I realized that my dick wasn’t becoming erect.
It was growing.
What the fuck, I thought to myself, staring down at my bulge as it became more and more pronounced. I hadn’t taken any of the pills that I’d purchased from the club, so an explanation as to why my cock was suddenly experiencing another growth spurt was completely lost to me. Closing my legs so as to not make what was happening any more noticeable than it already was, I grabbed my towel and placed it over my swelling privates—a move that caused both John Minnel and the kid on the other side of me (this jacked hottie named Chad Novksy), to look back down at my groin. I just smiled, trying to ignore the fact that the tip of my dick was now moving past the edge of my hip, and that my balls felt as though they were being pumped full of air.
“What, popping a woody?” Chad said jokingly, but clearly a little nervous (excited?) as to what that meant for such a large dick crammed into such a small piece of swimwear. The tightness of the thing against my engorging cock felt amazing—just as good as it had felt when I’d let my cock grow within my old, outgrown briefs. So amazing, in fact, that I actually began to pop an erection. Remembering what had happened during my last growth spurt, I knew I had to get out of there, for if I didn’t, everyone would witness my giant, twelve-inch, GROWING cock rip right through my Speedo, and I did NOT want to have to explain that to anybody.
Jumping up, I pushed my towel as hard as I could over my swelling dick and made for the locker room door as quickly as I could without slipping on the wet floor. My newly enlarged feet made this difficult, as I still had not exactly mastered walking fast in them. I could sense everyone staring at me as I did so, and even heard some laughing. I knew this laughter was due to the fact that the ass-part of my Speedo was beginning to get pulled tight into my crack, because my dick was getting so big (and rapidly running out of room) that it wouldn’t be long before it forced itself out into the open: Huge, throbbing, and growing more massive by the second.
Sliding to a stop at the door, I grunted upon remembering that it was once again locked. It was only then that I felt the tingling in my feet, and realized that they too were growing—already having lengthened to the point where I knew that it would be impossible to squeeze them back into my dad’s old boots.
“FUCK,” I said, loud enough for Mr. Hull to hear.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, coming over.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, not turning around, hand still on the doorknob, rattling it furiously. My ballooning cock was pressed up against the hard door now, and the force of its growth felt like it was going to start pushing me backwards.
“Again? But you just went,” Mr. Hull said, now obviously angered.
“I know, but I have to go again!” I said, not wanting to turn around lest he see what was happening down below.
“Here, I’ll let you in,” he said, digging his keys out of his pocket once more. “But you gotta move.”
Trying my absolute best to hide my ridiculously engorged horse shaft from both the teacher and the rest of the class, I stepped aside as Hull shook his keys and made to unlock the door. As he slid the key in, I realized that my monstrous penis was straining my Speedo so tightly that my entire ass was now basically hanging out, and that my feet looked as though they were two sizes too big for my body.
“You must really have to go,” Hull said, opening the door and looking at me. But as he held the door open and I turned around, his gaze froze upon my nether regions. For a split second, the towel had slipped, and despite my best efforts to conceal what was happening beneath it, Hull caught a glimpse of my inexplicable growth: It had gotten to the point where my unbelievably monstrous dong was now pretty much completely visible, having pushed the Speedo to probably only a few seconds away from its breaking point.
“Holy shit …” Hull said, as I ran into the locker room, massive feet slapping on the wet floor.
Once inside, I dropped the useless towel on the floor of the showers and flew as fast as I could toward the open bathroom stall at the far end of the room. Running with my giant, STILL growing cock felt so crazy: It literally felt as though I had a third leg stretching out of groin. My creaking bulge was now a good twelve inches from my body, curved against the blue fabric of the Speedo that was unimaginably tight against every inch of skin it was touching.
However, right before I could throw myself inside the open stall, my strained-to-the-max Speedo let out a loud groan of defeat and ripped, letting my now jumbo-sized cock explode out, rock hard, nodding up and down with the force of its freedom, like a diving board that had just been jumped off of. The ripped remains of the Speedo at my feet (which had grown to what looked like a size twenty-seven), I just stood there, looking down at my exposed third-leg, watching in horror as it visibly continued to grow. The throbbing veins had become more pronounced than ever, and the head seemed to be pulsing more intensely as the centimeters added on and on. It felt simultaneously fantastic and painful, the growth an indescribable feeling that can only be described as GROWTH.
“FUCK!” I yelled, stumbling closer to the stall. My mega-sized cock—which had to be at least eighteen inches long now, and nine inches around—felt as though it were going to explode at any moment; as though there were not enough skin left to store all the blood that was steadily flowing into it. Gripping it with both hands, I grazed my balls, and only then realized that they, too, had swollen to nearly twice the size that they’d been only five minutes ago.
Standing there, I must’ve looked like a complete cartoon character: Freak-sized feet sliding across the cold floor as they stretched onward, my dick now bigger than my forearm, balls each bigger than both of my fists combined … the cock of a giant stretching further and further out of the my otherwise unimpressive body.
Jumping, I turned and saw Tony standing a few feet behind me, smiling at my obvious distress. Upon seeing my cock, however, his eyes widened, and his smile faltered as his jaw dropped in astonishment. Then it hit me.
“WHAT DID YOU DO!” I said, letting go of my rock-hard elephant dong, which fell only slightly in altitude, standing nearly perfectly straight out in front of me. The pain was getting worse, and the thing had to have hit twenty inches.
“Oh, just crushed up some of those magic pills of yours and slipped them into your water bottle. Thought I’d save you the trouble of taking them yourself.”
“HOW MANY DID YOU FUCKING PUT IN?!” I cried, once again grabbing my shaft in my hands—fingers no longer able to wrap completely around it—feeling the skin slide out from underneath as it continued to lengthen. It felt as though I had a fucking fire log hanging from in between my legs: A fired log that was about to burst.
“Oh, maybe ten or eleven … . I forgot.”
“WHAT?!” I cried, throwing myself into the stall and falling to my knees, my cock hitting the cold ceramic of the toilet. Breathing fast, I sat down on the floor, naked, watching as my cock continued to lurch upward. I could’ve sworn it was now making a sound—a sort of creaking—as the pressure got to be almost too much. My balls were starting to spread out against the dirty floor, swelling to the size of small watermelons.
“Look at the size of that thing … .” Tony said, looking down in what was clearly awe at his own handiwork. His hands found his way to his own crotch, and only then did I realize that his cock, too, was getting bigger. But he was only experiencing a boner, whereas my dick was literally growing to the point where I’d never again be able to properly hide it within my pants.
“I think … . I think it’s stopping … .” I breathed. It certainly felt as though it were—the pain beginning to subside, giving way to a tremendous horniness as I looked down at the dick that would’ve look too big on an elephant.
“Look at this … .” I said. Holding it straight up, my boner surpassed my chin. After all the distress I’d experienced suffering this growth spurt, I realized then that I had to have the biggest cock in the entire world.
“Jack off … .” Tony said, steadily rubbing his bulge, before pulling out his own dick and starting to jack off his now baby-looking ten inches.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should flee the locker room, lest Mr. Hull or any of the other guys in the class come in and find me. But I realized that I didn’t give a shit if anyone saw. In fact, I wanted them to see. I wanted them to know that I had the biggest cock (and probably feet) in the entire fucking world. And so, with both of my hands running up and down every inch of my extreme size, I began to jerk, Tony coming over and leaning up against the bathroom stall as he continued to jack his own cock.
“Get down here and suck this thing,” I said. “You made it, now see how much of it you can take down your fucking throat.”
Looking nervous, Tony obliged, kneeling down and grabbing the parts of my dick that my own hands weren’t gripping. Sticking my giant head in his mouth, I could feel his tongue slapping against it, as well as the back of his throat as he shoved as much of it as he could inside.
“Oh my fuck it’s so fucking huge,” he said, pulling it out and rubbing his hands up and down it. “How does it feel?”
“It feels like I’ve got a third fucking leg. It feels like it’s going to explode, it’s so fucking huge and hard. I can’t take it. Get me off. I need to get off—I need it to get soft. I don’t know how much longer I can take this pressure. It’s so fucking GIANT!”
“Keep talking like that,” Tony said, running his tongue all over my extreme dick. “Keep talking about how huge you are. I want to hear you talk about how massive your cock is. How fucking GIANT it is.”
“You like my giant cock?” I said, fighting back the urge to cry. “You like how it’s almost as big as me? I’ve got the biggest fucking dick in the world now. It’s so huge, I’m not gonna be able to go out in public without people noticing it. I’ll never be able to fit it into a pair of underwear ever again. It’s gotten so big, I don’t know what to do with it.” As I said this, my heart sank at the fact that every word of it was true. Never again would I be able to live a normal life.
“Oh yeah,” Tony said, fitting the entire head of my dong back into his mouth and beginning to suck it like a pacifier.
“Keep sucking my giant ass cock,” I said, running my hands through his hair, pushing his head down against my dick as it slid further down his gagging throat. For a second I was tempted to see if I could choke him to death with it.
“Shit, your head barely fits in my mouth,” he said, closing his eyes and running his tongue all over my fist-sized dick head, looking as though he too were about to cry—but in ecstacy, not in the horror that I was filled with at having become so freakishly massive.
And then I came. For what had to have been a full minute, I shot a gallon of cum all over his face, his mouth stretched wide, thick, hot drops of my juice bursting out in heavy blasts that left him drenched.
Unable to catch my breath, I leaned back against the cold stall wall, watching, tears running down my face, as my dick lowered; shrunk smaller and smaller, until it was completely soft. Even out of its state of painful turgidity, it had to have been a fucking foot long—as big as it had been fully hard only a few minutes before.
Waking up, my eyes squinted against the bright morning light streaming through the open window, hitting the massive tent I was pitching like a spotlight. No longer fazed by the fact that my morning wood made it look as though my leg was bent beneath my blanket, my dickhead as wide as my kneecap, I rolled onto my side, hard, monstrous dick hitting the mattress, shaking it as though someone had just jumped into bed with me. Closing my eyes, I tried to fall back asleep, but the sounds of movement on the other side of the closed bedroom door and the accompanying smell of breakfast food wafting in through the crack beneath made it impossible to do so. Resigning myself to consciousness, I threw off my blanket, revealing my naked body to the sun—my freakish endowment looked like a sibling to my long, tired legs, my tremendous feet stretching over the end of my bed to a ridiculous degree.
Getting up, I walked over to the window and pulled the blinds, not even caring if anyone below caught a glimpse of my monstrous boner. I stood there for a moment, debating as to whether or not I should even bother putting on some clothes, before deciding that it would be pointless: my giant cock would be fully noticeable even if I draped myself in my blanket. Stepping on the piles of clothes strewn all over the floor with my humungous, disproportionate feet, I pulled my colossal dick against my chest so that I would be able to get close enough to the door without ramming it. Opening it, I walked out into the kitchen.
Craig was standing at the stove in nothing but his boxers, his own huge shlong hanging a good three inches out of the bottom of his underwear in what appeared to be a state of semi-erection. He was making scrambled eggs, flexing his excessive biceps in morning stretch as he did so.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, turning and smiling at me as I stumbled over to the table, dick still pressed against my chest as I sat down. My boner showed no sign of relenting, and surely would have knocked the table over had I not had it pressed up against my body. It was so big its head rested only a few inches beneath my stubbled chin.
“At least one part of you is wide awake,” Craig said, turning off the stove and scraping the contents of the pan that had been resting on it onto two separate plates. Walking over to the table, he set one of the plates down in from of me (“Thanks,” I mumbled) and gave my broad dick head a rub.
“Shit, I still can’t get over how huge you are,” he said, sitting down next to me and digging in to his breakfast. Something thudded against the table, and I realized that it was his own dick, now in a state of full hardness as well.
“Neither can I,” I said, picking up my fork and beginning to scarf down the eggs Craig had so kindly prepared. They were delicious.
It had been a month since “The Attack of the Kraken,” as it had come to be known by all those who’d been present. Everyone who’d bore witness (Mr. Hull included) had carried on with their lives as though it had never occurred—much to my gratitude, as I really didn’t feel like explaining to anyone why my dick had suddenly grown two-feet long. Mr. Hull never inquired as to why I skipped every class for the remainder of that unit, but judging from the fact that he gave me an A, it was obvious that he knew the reason. I doubted that the sight of my twelve-inch-plus dick stretching my Speedo to the max would ever leave his memory.
In the wake of my unexpected growth-spurt, Tony had all but professed his love to me, and we were now dating. Though I of course felt a good deal of resentment toward him for blowing up my cock to almost unbearable proportions, I couldn’t help but love the fact that he was now worshipping ME. Though he was boasting his own fourteen-inch dick, thanks to the Viagrow that he had bought (full-price) from Craig, he was clearly obsessed with the cock that was hanging between my legs—the towering dick that he wanted to have so bad, but would never have the balls to grow himself. Yet despite the fact that living with a two-foot cock was sometimes a struggle, I couldn’t lie: I absolutely loved it. Having the biggest dick on the planet was something that I’d always dreamed of, and now … it was a reality.
Though my mother (thankfully) never learned of my astronomical growth, I saw fit to move out; a decision that was met with little resistance from my creator, seeing as how things between her and her boyfriend were heating up, and having me loitering about the house limited the amount of fun that they could have with each other. So I had moved in with Craig, who gladly took me in after learning about what had happened that day in class … if not solely for the fact that he, like Tony, wanted to be as close to the biggest cock on the planet as possible. And though Tony and I were seriously dating (I really did like him a lot, now that his douchiness had given way to nothing but adoration and respect in the face of my extreme growth), he, Craig, and I had become a sort of threesome—all pleasuring each other and our giant, overgrown dicks.
“Want me to jack you off?” Craig asked, clearing his plate and looking at the monster growing out of my crotch as though he were craving a huge helping of sausage.
Realizing that my wood was not going anywhere, I finished my own eggs and said, “Sure.”
Craig pulled his chair closer to mine and began rubbing my dong with his heavy right hand, pulling his own out of his boxers and starting to jerk himself with his left.
“Dude, we’re so fucking huge,” he said, licking his big, eager lips at the sight of both my twenty-four inch totem pole and his own thirteen-inch mammoth. Closing my eyes in mingled pleasure and a continued desire to fall back asleep, I leaned back in my chair and began rubbing my dick as well—plenty of its expansive surface still exposed even with three hands running up and down it.
I was about to cum when the doorbell rang. Opening my eyes, I watched as Craig got up (his unbounded feet accidently stepping on my own gigantic hooves as he did so) slipping his swollen, veiny boner back into his boxers (an act that made his manhood look even more ridiculous than if he had simply let it remain out) and made for the door.
“Who is it?” I said, continuing to masturbate as Craig peeked through the peephole.
“It’s Tony,” he said, unlocking the door and opening it up.
“Hey man,” Craig said as Tony walked in, Tony looking wide-eyed at the sight of my elephantine cock as though (even after a month of sucking the shit out of it) he still couldn’t believe that it existed.
“Hey,” he said, shaking Craig’s hand. Walking over to me and kissing me on the lips, he knelt down and began licking the entire length of my extensive shaft.
Within a few minutes (during which Craig leaned against the countertop, running his big hands up and down his hulking meat as Tony sucked and jacked me off), I came, shooting my load all over the place—even getting some in my own messy hair.
“I’ll never get sick of that,” Tony said, running his finger over his face and swallowing as much of my cum as he could, Craig ejaculating all over his bulging, tatted, muscular torso in the background, moaning loudly as he did so.
“FUCK!” he said, slapping his softening dong in his huge, open palm, sending residual cum all over the place as his meat flopped back and forth.
I watched as my own dick lowered in altitude, falling into flaccidity; my foot-long, fully flaccid dick drooping over the front of my chair and hanging a good six-inches between my legs.
“It smells good in here,” Tony said, looking at the empty plates before him. “You make breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Craig said, walking over to the table (dick still hanging out) and picking up the plates. “I made eggs.”
“Yum,” Tony said, as Craig took the plates over to the sink and dropped them in, clearly ignoring Tony’s not-so-subtle desire for some breakfast. Though the three of us all engaged in various acts of dick-worshipping together, Craig wasn’t the biggest fan of Tony’s, and would have sooner shrunk his dick back down to normal size than do anything for Tony outside of sucking him off. As to the exact reason for the animosity, I wasn’t sure … but I had a sneaking suspicion that it stemmed from jealousy over the fact that TONY was the one dating me and my colossal cock.
Craig stomped back over with his herculean feet and stretched again, his muscles inflated to their fullest, big donkey dick still swinging over his pulled-down boxers.
“Well I’m gonna go shower,” he said, scratching his abs and winking at me. “Don’t forget there’s that meeting at The Club in a little bit.”
“Oh shit,” I said, having totally forgotten. “What time is that at?”
“One,” Craig said, pulling off his boxers, revealing his meaty, perky ass and disappearing into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. The sound of the shower filled the apartment as I looked at the clock hanging over the stove. It was eleven o’clock.
“What’s the meeting for?” Tony asked excitedly, having never been to The Club, but knowing all about it from me. He wanted so desperately to join, but Craig had said that he absolutely couldn’t, as slipping someone Viagrow without their knowledge was “against the rules,” and that he would never be allowed entry by The Doc.
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “I think we’re getting a new member or something.” At least, that’s what Craig had made it sound like the night before when he told me about the meeting.
“I see,” Tony said, clearly wishing that the new member in question could be him. “Well, I thought I’d just stop by and see what was going on, but I’ll get going so you can get ready. Wanna do something later?”
“Yeah,” I said, getting up and slapping my dick down against the table. “You.”
At this, Tony laughed, and leaned in to kiss me.
Grabbing his bursting crotch, I made out with him for a bit, rubbing his fat dong through his jeans while he slapped mine against my stomach.
“On that note, I’ll see you later,” I said, my dick quickly swelling back up into a boner.
“Peace,” Tony said, his own dong clearly fully erect within his jeans, all fourteen inches looking as though they were going to burst out, his belt creaking against the force of his erection.
As he closed the door behind him, I looked down at my junk, and, deciding that I would have to occupy myself for a bit while waiting for Craig to get out of the shower, began jacking off again.
Pulling into the driveway of The Doc’s house, Craig put the car in park, turned the radio down, and leaned back in his seat, finishing his cig. I just watched him as he did so, the sound of whatever band was playing serving as the soundtrack to each cinematic drag he took of his Newport. To that day, I still couldn’t get over how fucking sexy and huge he was.
“Want some?” he asked, holding the cig out to me. I shook my head, and he tossed it out the window before rolling it up.
“I swear, my feet have grown some more,” he said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car with the usual difficulty that his enormity caused. “My shoes feel like they’re five sizes too small.”
“They probably have grown,” I said, slamming my door behind me and walking around the front of the car to get a look at Craig’s feet. “Your shoes do look like they’re filled to the max.”
“Right?” Craig said, staring down at them himself. “We gotta talk to The Doc about making a pill that stops these things from growing … I’m growing through too many pairs of shoes, and my style’s not cheap.”
“Hey, at least your feet aren’t almost fucking size thirty,” I said, my enormous toes stretching so far past the edge of my size twenty-three sandals that I looked like a joke.
“They feel like they could be,” Craig said, following me up the driveway to the side door, watching with a big grin at how awkward it was for me to walk. I held the door open for Craig (“Thanks”) and followed him down the dark stairs—taking each step carefully as now only a fourth of each foot would fit on each one. At the bottom, we turned into the The Club and saw that it was empty.
“We’re still early,” Craig said, checking his watch and taking his usual seat at the mouth of the circle.
“What time is it?” I asked, sitting next to him, watching as he started massaging his voluminous bulge through his dark jeans.
“I wonder were The Doc is,” I said, turning my gaze to the painting of Goya’s Colossus that hung over the table (which had a full spread of cheese, crackers, and sandwiches laid across it).
“He’s probably taking a shit,” Craig said, smirking.
Watching as he rubbed his mountainous bulge, I thought back to the day when he had first exposed himself to me, and wondered what I would be doing at this moment if he had never given me the Viagrow … if I had never joined the club … if my dick had never grown to two-feet long… .
Before I knew it, all of the chairs in the circle were occupied—except for the two reserved for Magnum X-Al and the “new recruit” he’d found.
As usual, everyone looked so hot sitting in that circle: All so huge and bulging, each looking as though they were about to break the chairs on which they sat; monstrous feet extending for days at the end of their long, basketball player-like legs; huge arms busting out of their shirts; giant hands draped across their exploding crotches (or, in more cases than none, rubbing them).
“So where’s the newbie?” Hung Jung said, scratching his chin as he flexed his dick through his sweatpants. It looked like he’d grown it a few inches bigger since the last time The Club had convened, his bulge looking as though he had his entire arm shoved down his sweats.
“Al should be here with him any moment,” The Doc said, staring at the doorway as eagerly as everyone else present. “He texted me a few minutes ago and said that they were almost here.”
“Hey Jung,” I said, managing to catch his attention over the chatter of everyone else. “Is it just me or did you grow some more?”
Jung smiled. “Thanks for noticing,” he said, pulling down his sweats and revealing his dinosaur-sized dong. “Guess how big I am now.”
“Sixteen inches,” I guessed, thinking that I was definitely in the right ballpark.
“Close,” Jung said, grabbing his dick in his left hand and slapping it against this chest. “Seventeen. And I made it an inch thicker.”
“Looks good,” I said, unable to stop myself from hoping that one day I’d find my ass being torn apart by Jung and his massiveness. Jung just smiled at me, rubbing his dick as I watched.
“Where’d Al find the new recruit?” Packin’ Jack asked, wiggling his gargantuan toes (he’d taken off his vast flip-flops).
“He said at the gym.”
“So he’s probably going to be fit,” Gary Girth said, twiddling his thumbs in anticipation.
“We’ll see about that,” Huge Hal said, stretching his monster legs to their full extent—his prodigious feet almost touching Scott the Shlong, who was sitting directly across from him in the wide circle, where he was adjusting his ballooning bulge beneath his strained belt.
“Watch those things,” Scott said, his seeming desire to avoid getting smacked by Hal’s giant feet voided by the longing that burned in his eyes as he looked at the size twenty-three monstrosities.
“You know you love it,” Hal said, pulling his vast legs back in toward him and rubbing his feet together.
The sound of the side door opening caused everyone to fall silent, but even in the absence of their voices the sound of their excitement was deafening. This must be what it was like when they were waiting for Craig to bring me down here, I thought to myself, my boner starting to hurt in its ferocity. Sensing my excitement (or else hearing my jeans creak in distress as my dick threatened to shred right out of them) Craig turned to me and rubbed my bulge.
“Ready to no longer be the newbie?” he said, running his huge hand up and down all two-feet of the lump in my jeans, which extended all the way past my kneecap. I nodded, and not a second later, Magnum X-Al appeared in the doorway, a grin almost as big as his pecs spread across his stubble-ridden face.
“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you our newest member. Please join me in giving a warm welcome to Mr. Henry Hull.”