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Part 1: Monday

Oh, the life of an office worker. The oppressive and ever-present clatter of keyboards working tirelessly to complete the never-ending cycle of forms and reports did well to keep Steven Karmin on the cusp of consciousness. He was well into his daily process of checking and un- checking various tick-boxes for the floor manager. As a Project Information Specialist for Telebox Digital Solutions, he could spend most of his days on auto-pilot. On this day, however, there was a snag.

Steven generally worked closely with Kevin Treymont from the Projections department. As it was a Monday, Steven could understand Kevin’s hesitance to communicate. It was beyond that though. Kevin wasn’t saying anything at all. He sat alone in his cubicle, seemingly in a daze. His expression was dour.

When it came time for lunch, Steven approached Kevin.

“Hey Kevin, want to go over to—”

Kevin wasn’t listening at all. He bolted as soon as Steven caught his eye. Highly suspect, Steven though.

After lunch Steven looked around the office for his silent co-worker. There was no sign of him. When he got back to his desk, he found a sticky note on his monitor. The text was written hastily:

“Steven, Meet me in the stairwell at 6. Don’t be late. -Kevin”

“What the hell?” Steven was confused and concerned. Of course he would be there.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on even more than usual. The office closed at five, but there were always some who stayed behind to get more ’work’ done. By the time six rolled around, however, Steven was the only one left.

He wasn’t sure why, but Steven made his way to the stair well with the utmost caution and secrecy. He had no idea what to expect. He opened the heavy door to find Kevin already waiting, wringing his hands nervously. He looked like hell. His straight black hair, usually kept in a tight bun, was frazzled and out of place. His brown eyes looked tired and lacked their usual energy, as did the rest of his face. His suit was wrinkled and his socks were ripped. When he saw Steven he covered his mouth.

“Kevin… what’s going on? What’s wrong’?”

Kevin remained silent.

“Kevin?” Steven moved closer with a cautious hand forward.

Kevin said nothing and closed his eyes.

“Kevin, I need you to say something…” Steven said, trying to betray his fear with his voice.

Suddenly, eyes springing open, Kevin lunged forward and grabbed the sides of Steven’s head. Steven was shocked, unable to react as Kevin drew his face close and brought their lips together. Steven’s dark eyes opened wide as he felt his attacker’s tongue slip into his mouth.

Just as he tried to scream, his mouth was suddenly awash with a strange warm fluid. Steven had no choice but to swallow. Kevin made some strange moaning sounds before both men fell to the floor.

“Kevin! What the hell! What weh… uh…” Steven cut himself off. There was something wrong with his tongue.

Kevin slowly looked up. He put a hand to his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Kevin finally spoke. “Oh my god! It worked!” He looked over at Steven.

“Steven… god, I’m sorry… oh jesus…” Kevin quickly got to his feet. “I’m so sorry…” He continued to apologize as he ran through the door.

Steven was in no mood to chase. Something felt profoundly wrong. His tongue felt swollen, huge and clumsy. He tried speaking again but could not manage much more than vowel sounds. His heart raced. What had Kevin done to him? Panic gripped his guts.

He rose to his feet, slowly, carefully as though he were made of eggs. He stuck a finger in his mouth. His tongue was noticeably different. There was a strange smoothness to it, and it didn’t lie flat like it should. Also, he seemed unable to taste his finger. Granted, it would not have tasted good, but that sense appeared to be totally absent. Panic. Trouble breathing. Try to calm down.

Steven went back into the office. It seemed strangely dark. Someone had drawn the blinds. He had to get to the men’s room. He had to find a mirror. Around the corner.

Suddenly he was there. He was there and he couldn’t do it. Nothing good could be hiding behind those lips. Bite the bullet. He looked into his own dark eyes. They were nervous. He looked at his full lips. Painted red. The ugly overhead lights still glistened off the pigment. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Steven was often told that he had a handsome face. For some reason he never liked it when people said that. Did he not have nice pecs and a slim waist? Were his legs not long and well muscled? The truth is that he did indeed have a gorgeous body, but his face was positively angelic. Framed between wavy locks of gold, flawless complexion set atop perfect bone structure, with a dash of golden beard around the chinline, his face was a vision.

But now there was a cock protruding from it.

Steven felt a scream clawing from within. He clasped both hands over his mouth. The head of his cock brushed against his fingers accompanied by an erotic bolt.

Steven was awoken by a beep from his cell phone. He had blacked out, apparently. He looked around. He was on the floor of the men’s room. He looked at his phone. It was a text from Kevin.

“Check your email. I sent you some information. I am so sorry.”

He checked the time. 9:30PM. Steven had to get home. He looked in the mirror again. Face cock. This was no dream. Alone in the dark with a penis for a tongue.

The dark… shit! Security must be patrolling the building.

Security would not usually be an issue. He had his employee badge, and normally it would be no problem to make up a story about forgetting some important papers. However, this would be profoundly more difficult with a flapping cock instead of a tongue.

There was nothing left to do except to try. He took a moment to collect himself, then crept from the men’s room.

The office was dark and silent, with the only light coming through the large windows from the city night outside. The blinds were open. He quietly slipped his heels off and crept along in his socks. The room felt much longer than usual, and he could swear that the boring carpet was creaking.

A beam cut the peaceful dark. Flashlight. Steven quietly darted into a nearby cubicle. He nestled into a corner under the desk amid a nest of cords. He could hear the guard’s shoes squeaking closer and closer. Cruel an casual. The light danced erratically, evidence of a cavalier grip. The guard passed into sight. An unknown man who was exactly six foot four. Ponytail. Wide shoulders, narrow waist. He had a very shapely ass. Round, hard bubble-butt.

In fact, Ron (the guard) was often embarrassed by his ass. He tried so had to convey a stern, no-nonsense toughness to his fellow guards, but it was difficult. Everyone stared at his ass, and that made him hot despite himself. This invariable caused his plumping cock to protrude, clearly visible through his uniform. This is turn would cause him to blush, and it’s difficult to appear stern when you’re always blushing about your bulging package. No to mention the fact that whenever anyone pinched his ass he would reflexively let out an embarrassingly low- pitched moan. But that’s beside the point.

The guard passed, but the thoughts of his ass did not. To his horror, Steven could feel his cock-tongue begin to engorge. He could still hear Ron’s squeaking shoes, so there was no running away yet.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. His thick penis forced its way from between his lips and into the cool office air. It protruded nearly three inches from his face. He was mortified, but silent. In this state he awaited the guard’s departure.

Steven was relieved to finally be within the safe barrier of his car. He turned on NPR and collected his nerves. He checked himself in the mirror. His facial erection had subsided, thank god. He was nearly home free now. He couldn’t wait to see what information Kevin’s email contained. He started his engine and headed home.

When he reached his apartment complex, he found himself hesitant to leave the confined space of his car. All he had to do was go in, ride the elevator, and get into his apartment. That was it. No problem.

He scanned the area. All clear. He quickly got out of his car and power-walked into the building and toward the elevators. No one else in sight!

Then; dread. Just as he was entering the elevator he heard the quick clop clop clop of a man rushing up behind him.

“Wait! Hold the elevator!” The man yelled.

Steven didn’t. He didn’t need to. The man was too fast.

“Thanks.” Said the man with deadly-blond hair.

Steven recognized this man. He lived on the floor above him. He was a yoga instructor, and you could tell by looking at him. Steven reached into his satchel for something to shove his face into. A Newsweek. Great.

He pretended to read with great interest. He turned the page and came upon an article about a new type of gay clubs just for making out. Interesting. He could feel that stirring again. Something about all those sexy male lips pressing together, two, three at a time. He wanted to join in, to kiss those lips. More specifically he wanted his cock on those lips. Sliding between those lips. Dripping, saturating, cumming within those lips. No sooner did his member emerge than his elevator companion began to speak.

“Is that this week’s issue?” The man spoke in a warm, friendly voice.

“Hm?” Steven said still glued to the images.

“The Newsweek. Is that the new one?”

“Mmmmm… mmmhmmm.”

The friendly stranger raised an eyebrow at Steven, who’s face was still buried in the magazine.

“Well, are there any good articles? What are you reading about?”

Steven panicked. He’d have to use more than vowel sounds to get through this one. He peered over his magazine-fortress at the man who was giving him an incredulous look.

“Mmmmip pip…”

“…”

The ride continued in silence.

When the door opened on his floor, Steven all but ran out of the claustrophobic space and into his apartment. After making sure his door was as secure as it could be he rushed to his computer and opened his email account. His eyes were instantly drawn to the message sent from Kevin with the subject line “I’M SO SORRY”. He quickly opened it:

“Steven, I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t know what else I could do. I know I shouldn’t have ran off like that, but I was so scared. I’m still scared. I know you probably don’t have any idea about what’s happening so I’ll tell you everything I know.

“I don’t know where it came from, probably Ashland, but this is basically like some sick game of tag. What happens is that a man with a dick for a tongue sticks his dick in your mouth and cums. Doing this transfers the dick from him to you. You will have the dick until you do the same thing. After you pass it on, you’re totally clear. You will be fine once you pass it on.

“There don’t seem to be a lot of rules. It does have to be a man, and it can’t be any man who has already had it. Other than that it seems to always work. This information was passed on to me from the man who ’tagged’ me.

“I know it’s really shitty, but I didn’t have any other option. I know you’ll pass it on just fine and everything will be ok again. Please don’t hate me. Please respond and let me know how you are doing.

“—Kevin”

Steven closed the browser angrily. He was filled with a mixture of hope and dread. On the upside he knew how to return to normal. On the downside he knew exactly what he would have to do. How would he ever be able to live this down?

Steven at in solemn silence as he contemplated his situation. He had always though that the Ashland Incident was an elaborate hoax, but now he wasn’t so sure. Still, that was a few months and two hundred miles away. Besides the sexual nature, how could this be related?

How would this even have happened anyway? Some kind of biological weapon? What kind of sick fuck would have both the means and the will to implement such a perverse scheme? Cocks protruding from faces, forcibly altering innocent men, wet cum glistening on firm lips, hunger, lust, humiliation…

Steven’s tongue began to harden. He produced a muffled attempt at the word ’no’. Defeated, he walked to his bathroom to examine it once more. He hadn’t seen his reflection with it erect yet.

What a terror.

He gasped at its size. It wasn’t all that big really, but coming out of his face like that made it seem huge. It was wet and glistening. Against his better judgment, he rubbed his lips on it. It felt good. He brought his finger tips up to the protrusion. Being at an awkward length and position he couldn’t manage a proper hand job, but he did try.

He moaned softly as an erotic rush lit up his jaw and seemingly flowed down his throat. For a brief moment he felt lucky to be one of the few people ever to be able to feel such a sensation.

He reached into his shirt and under his undershirt with his free hand and began tweaking his right nipple. Slowly he backed up and sat on his toilet. The rush was going straight into his brain now, and it was intoxicating.

His breathing increased, the cool air adding to the sensation on his wet dick. His free had had since drifted south and he began to tease his lower cock. He hadn’t bothered to remove his boxers. Soon he ventured deeper, plunging his fingers into his ass.

The rush from his tongue and the ecstasy in his anus met somewhere in his guts, creating a storm of internal heat. He ripped off his clothing, sending buttons bouncing and ticking across the tile floor. He lay writhing on the cool ceramic, the disgust he felt for himself adding to his excitement. His fingers worked his cock-tongue faster and faster. He could feel a tightness building in his throat. His gasps increased in pitch and frequency. He knew something was about to happen, and he had a pretty good idea what it was.

Quickly, clumsily, he tried getting up off the floor to position his face over the sink. He was not quick enough. He felt a warmth welling in his jaw and upper throat, soon accompanied by an orgasmic release from his tongue. He saw spurts of cum shoot from his mouth and his crotch as he scrambled to get over the basin. Even then he was worried about making a mess.

As he was righting himself he caught a glimpse of the mirror. It was like watching a train wreck. As much as it distressed him to see that cock as a part of his face, it was ten times worse when it was spewing hot love everywhere. As he gazed at himself his dick continually spattered the mirror with it’s juice. As the fluid dripped down to the floor, so did Steven.

Part 2: Tuesday

Though not the worst place he’d ever woken up, Steven was displeased to learn that he had spent the whole night on his bathroom floor. His body hated him. His neck was stubborn, not to mention the fact that he now had confirmation that his tongue was susceptible to morning wood. He checked his phone.

Fuck, it’s already noon.

Steven gazed out at the sky through the distortion of his tiny washroom window. He hadn’t planned on going in to work anyway. He couldn’t imagine how or why Kevin had managed to come in yesterday. Had he planned on tagging Steven all along? Was he the ideal target?

Speaking of which… He didn’t want to do it, but Steven knew that sooner or later he would have to formulate a plan to pass on this ridiculous situation. The thought made his shudder. He still wasn’t sure he could do it. But he would have to, right? Right? Ok, first thing’s first. Jimmy, ’best friend’ of three years. He would help, right? After that, a gay bar would be a good option. Failing that? A hooker, I suppose. Not bad. Jimmy gets off work in five hours. Send a text now: “hey jim need your help. come by my place aftr work bring drinks” Steven waited in silence for thirty minutes.

“k” Once again Steven felt relief and dread. How was this going to work? Surely it would get awkward quite fast.

With over four hours to go, Steven knew he would have to find a diversion lest he go mad with anticipation. He turned on the TV. Daytime trash. Men standing around with serious faces as dramatic music played. They were calling each other assholes. Next channel.

Church service, local weather, trashy talk shows, shopping channel, ancient reruns, then all of a sudden; black men dancing around a swimming pool. Hm. Steven was transfixed. So much flesh. He felt his tongue begin to harden. He had to fight. He had to change the channel. Where did the remote go? Gravity. He felt around for it, eyes still glued to the screen. What was it like to go through every day life with an ass like that? There, the remote!

Click. He whimpered a little as the quiet of the room enveloped him. His cock was protruding. He could smell it. Located just under his nose, the musk was overpowering. His crotch cock reacted accordingly. He went into his bedroom to fetch his dildo and await his friend’s arrival.

7:10 PM A knock at the door.

Steven nearly screamed. He had been waiting on the couch for about an hour as a bundle of nerves. He quickly composed himself, grabbed a prepared pad of paper, and let his friend in. Jimmy wore a look of quizzical concern. While he was not a man of supreme natural beauty, he more than made up for it with a supernatural ability in fashion and makeup application. He appeared to be dressed for a night on the town, and even under normal circumstances Steven would have a difficult time talking him out of it.

“Well, let’s get to it shall we?” He finally said. Steven walked over to the couch and Jimmy followed. Both sat in awkward silence for exactly one minute and twenty-four seconds. The couch was red and held no interesting patterns with which to distract the eye. “Alright Steven, out with it. I didn’t come here just to stare at your pretty face.” Steven blushed and slowly, painfully handed his friend the pad of paper. Jimmy held a raised eyebrow to his host for a good five seconds before turning his gaze to the text: “What would you think of having a dick for a tongue?” Jimmy blinked. He stared at the solitary sentence, then up at Steven, then back down at the paper. “What the fuck is this?” Jimmy asked, looking back up at Steven. Steven stuck his tongue out. Jimmy slowly stood and walked out the door. Steven never saw him again.

Plan B.

Steven knew understandably little about his local gay scene. He acted on his only scrap of knowledge and headed to a bar called “Tangle”. At 8:50 PM, the bar was sparsely populated. Had Steven the capacity for speech he would have taken this opportunity to mutter “I’m such a dork.” under his breath as he once again counted the combined total of bar-stool legs. Suddenly he detected an additional presence at his booth. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.” Steven spun to see a tipsy but energetic redhead sitting beside him. Elbow on the table, chin in hand. “Damn, has anyone ever told you how pretty your face is?” Steven smiled pleasantly. “Sneaky… sneakyface. What’s your name sneakyface?”

Steven wrote his name down. “Oh, how mysterious.” The stranger said sarcastically. “You’re not as sneaky as you think, I bet.” Steven gave the stranger a “go on” look. “For example; I know you. I know what you’re doing here. You’re not a homo! You’re just a tourist. You’re just a wannabe!” Steven became flustered. “Aha! I knew it. It’s alright. You hooked me. I want to hear that voice of yours. I bet I’ll have you moaning and screaming in a hour!” Steven’s eyes grew wide. Could it really be this easy? “Yeah! C’mon! c’mon c’mon c’mon. But first you gotta buy me summore drinks.”

The stranger lay his head on the table. Steven cautiously got up and walked toward the bar. He was stopped on the way. “Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with Case.” A raven-haired man spoke from the shadows. “Easy come, easy go. That guy is more trouble than he’s worth.”

Steven nodded his head politely and continued toward the bar. At the risk appearing rude, Steven was able to procure a bottle of rum after a prolonged pointing session with the scoffing bartender. When he brought it back to the table with a couple of shot glasses, Case’s eyes lit up. “Aw, my favorite! How’d you know?” Steven shrugged. Things got blurry after that. A door. Tile.

Warm hug. Wood. Laughter. Glass. Rubbing. Pavement. Nipples. Lots of stairs. Dark. Furniture, ripped. Clothing, tugged, unbuttoning. Electric kisses, neck. Screaming. Lots of screaming, soon joined by pushing. Falling down lots of stairs. Rain. Of course. Of course it was raining. Steven pulled himself up to a store window. He looked at his reflection. Bloody and bruised, he had indeed gone down some stairs. He stuck out his tongue. A cock.

Plan C. Steven had a vague idea on where the red light district was. No clue how best to engage in business there. Still, in his naivety he was suddenly convinced that his troubles would soon be over. He drove around until at last he saw an obvious male hustler. Slowly he pulled up beside the street-walker and rolled down his window. “Are you lost or something?” He asked.

Steven gestured to the passenger seat.

“I don’t do guys.”

Steven frowned.

“Go away.”

He had better luck on his next attempt. He found an agreeable young hustler that didn’t seem to care much for conversation anyway. Hustler in tow, he made his way to the nearest dark alley. As soon as he parked, Steven leaned in for a kiss.

“Aw hell no.” The hustler said, backing away. “What the fuck you doing? Ain’t no dude ‘round here gonna let you kiss him.”

Still leaning, Steven was left on his own with the door slammed in his face. He drove back home defeated.

It was late, or early. Car parked, Steven slowly trudged toward his apartment complex. Just as he was about to enter, he heard light sobbing. He looked down to see the blond yoga instructor sitting on the edge of the steps by the bushes. He was crying.

It would have been so easy to just ignore him. Steven was sore, tired, and humiliated. Still, this man obviously needed a friend, or at least something nice.

He sat down and began writing in his pad of paper. He was writing a lovely little note apologizing for his behavior in the elevator and offering a shoulder to cry on.

As he was writing, the blond turned around and looked at Steven. He blotted tears from his eyes, smiling as he did so. Streetlights glistened from his lips. Heart aflutter, Steven smiled back.

That’s when an erect penis sprung from his face.

Steven rushed to cover his face with his hands, but it was too late. The blond’s expression grew more and more horrified. He started to back away. Reflexively, Steven grabbed the blond by his shoulders. Forgetting everything, he tried to say not to worry, not to be afraid, but it was all garbled and slurred and it caused cock flail. The blond struggled to get away and Steven held tighter. He decided it would be a good idea to try for a hug.

He realized the cock was fucking with his head as he drew his face closer to the blond’s. He couldn’t stop himself. He was closing in on those lips, even though they were screaming. The cock edged closer and closer. He could feel the blond’s labored breath on the head of his cock. So close…

Suddenly the blond’s hand was gripped firmly around the offending protrusion and Steven’s head was turned forcefully to the side. His tongue began to cum instantly at the blond’s touch. Despite the abhorrent event taking place, Steven could not help but moan at the pleasure flowing into his brain. All he could see were jets of white shooting from his face into the dark of the parking lot.

Impact. Knee to the gut. Steven hunched over. Knee to the face. Elbow to the back of the head. He was grounded. He could hear the blond run away. He heard the door slam.

So much pain. Gotta move. He’ll be calling for help. Gotta move. So much pain.

Face to the pavement, his tongue was still spurting. Blood dripped in with the spooge. Steven crawled away.

Part 3: Wednesday

Next day, no use in going to work. Steven stayed in bed with his morning wood until three in the afternoon.

After getting up, he looked in the mirror. Being pushed down the stairs by a drunk and then beat up by a yoga instructor, he had to admit that he could look worse. There were some scratches on his face, arms and legs as well as bruises on his abdomen and left cheek. Not bad though.

The next few hours were spent reviewing what had happened the night before and what he could try differently. He sent a text to Kevin asking for advice. No response. Before he knew it, the sun was already setting.

Jimmy would not respond to texts. He was the only ‘friend’ that Steven really thought he could rely on.

Tangle would be a poor choice. Case would surely be there again and would have alerted the other regulars.

Hustlers, no way. Dead end.

Dead end.

On top of all that, Steven was terrified to even leave his front door knowing that the blond could be encountered without warning. There’s no telling what would happen then.

Steven began to panic. He was stuck. Trapped. There was no hope.

Was this his life now? Was he to remain a shut in? No. There had to be options. What about medicine? What could doctors do besides cut out his deformity? Still, that would be better. But then, if he cut it off then that truly would be it. No going back, he assumed.

Steven stopped himself. He was getting more worked up than he’d been in years. There must be other options, he was just still in shock. Better sleep on it. Perhaps things would look better in the morning.

Part 4: Thursday

Thursday morning things were worse. His morning tongue-wood was bigger than it had been the past two days. He thought maybe it was just a little pent-up, in need of attention. It was two inches longer than it had been, a fact Steven chose to ignore as he began jacking it at a frenzied pace, jacking his regular cock with his other hand.

He hated how good it felt. It made him sick how incredibly aroused he was. He moaned and curled. The wet fapping was so obscene, and he wanted more. He plunged deeply into his snatch, coating his hands with his precum and made a canal with his fingers in front of his face. Making out with his own digits wasn’t even close to what he wanted, needed, but it would have to do. In that moment he never though he would get enough of the slippery smooth sliding sensation that he brought upon himself.

He came loudly and messily all over his pillows.

Afterward he sat reclining, nearly comatose, atop his tainted pillows. His slowly receding cock-tongue lazily dribble jizz onto his firm, hairless pecs. The thick beads casually rolled down his taut flesh, sometimes coming to rest on the tips of his nipples, sometimes gliding lower in search of crotch cock.

After all the excess blood had left his member, Steven closed his mouth.

Something was wrong. He almost couldn’t close it all the way.

Heart-rate increase.

Up until now, when flaccid, his cock-tongue had always fit neatly behind his closed teeth. Now he had to bend and fold it, and it was packed tightly.

He started hyperventilating.

It was getting bigger. It was getting worse. Something had to be done.

There was no time to shower. Steven grabbed some jeans and shirt from the floor and put them on. He could feel his semi-dry cum between his skin and dirty clothing. It didn’t matter. He felt disgusting no matter what. All he knew was that his turn was over. Let someone else put up with it.

He burst into the corridor, searching for targets. No one. The elevators too; empty as he waited in ambush. Time to hit the streets.

Bingo.

The sidewalk was lightly populated. A couple men were walking together no more than fifty feet away. They were deep in conversation as they strolled slowly toward Steven’s position. This was it. Almost…

As the men drew near, Steven’s tongue rebelled. The slightest swell forced his mouth open, at which point his cock engorged rapidly. The two men took note of this and their faces twisted with grotesque horror.

Too late.

Steven charged toward them, blocking out their screams with a single-minded desire to at last unload his burden.

The men fled. One of them was able to kick his sandals off. His friend, attempting to do the same, instead fell to the ground. Steven was on him in a instant.

The would-be assailant cursed himself as he writhed on the pavement with the struggling man. This was terrible. Even after he passed the curse on, how would he be able to live with himself?

Steven’s inner struggle was suddenly brought to a halt as he felt two powerful arms pull him backward. He spun to see a police officer shouting. He didn’t even take the time to digest the words; he was running. Before he even knew where he was running to, he found himself in his car, engine running.

He was gone.

Steven cursed himself again.

Barely past the outskirts of town he had already run out of gas. It was just as well, he though. The police were probably looking for his automobile.

He continued on foot for a couple hours until at last he found exactly what he had been looking for: a shady motel. Exhausted from the day’s trauma, he went to bed immediately.

Part 5: Friday

He awoke the next day with a sense of dread that was fast becoming the standard. He didn’t even have to open his eyes. He could feel that it had grown. However, that was not his only concern.

His crotch felt very strange.

In order to investigate he had to sit up on account of his cock-tongue’s ever increasing capacity for visual obstruction. Sure enough; he had sprouted another dick. Well to be accurate, his crotch cock had simply doubled.

He wrapped his hand around them.

With all that the morning wood, Steven was feeling quite horny indeed. There would be time for horror later, he though. His hand started slowly running up and down his six-inch twin crotch cocks.

The sudden and surprisingly intense erotic wave washed over his body, causing him to produce a dick-muffled gasp. He was hooked. His eyes widened in disbelief as his hand quickened its pace.

As Steven instinctively brought his other hand up to cover his mouth it naturally brushed into his cock-tongue, which he immediately began to jerk as well. It was awkward at first, jacking off at two different ends of his body, but he soon found a rhythm. Breathing was difficult, and in his primal enthusiasm he slipped and hit himself in the face on more than one occasion.

Temporarily bereft of any desire to pace or control himself, Steven came quickly. Two separate jets of jizz began to assail the gaudy brown and gold curtains adjacent to the bed. Through the course of his self-love session he had somehow worked himself to sitting on the edge of the mattress. As he came, Steven emitted a strange sound from his throat that fluctuated quickly between high and low pitches. As his hands slowed their now slick sliding, he gazed, hypnotized, at his white mess running down the filthy fabric. His eyes mimicked the scene in the form of tears as Steven slumped backward in despair.

He wanted to tell himself how disgusting he was, but he couldn’t even do that. Still, he produced a few pathetic, mumbled attempts. In doing so, he realized that his cock-tongue had reached a new threshold; it was now too big to be contained behind his lips even in its flaccid state. There was no hope of hiding it short of covering his entire mouth. After about an hour of wanting to die, he decided it would be best to take a shower.

The shower was a predictable affair. Despite the grunge of the linoleum and the mildew-spotted ceiling, Steven found a way to become completely hot and horny as he attempted to make himself clean. He was soon on his back jerking his crotch-dicks furiously with both hands as he tried to lip-fuck himself with his tongue. The hot water expired and he didn’t even flinch. He climaxed again and again. A sticky mix of cum and water formed a glaze that clung to his pecs. His hair was nearly turgid with it. In one particular orgasmic spasm, he bashed his shin against the faucet. He realized how cold he was from the water and decided to at last disembark.

After drying, Steven tied his towel tightly around his hips. It was his hope that it would act as a form of chastity belt, or at least provide a barrier to keep his mind off of the ecstatic appendage.

He looked around his musky lodgings and sighed through his nose. He noted the light gust of hair down his ever-exposed cock-tongue as he sad down heavily at the foot of his bed. His chest jiggled slightly with the cheap springs. He absently scratched his right nipple. There was nothing to do.

Steven had been watching the gradually darkening sky for what may have been two hours before he heard it. It was unmistakable. Coming from the room adjacent to his headboard was the sound of squeaking springs. There was thumping and heaving breathing. There was fucking.

The cock-mouthed man quickly crawled up beside the wall and pressed an ear to the wall. Greedily he tried to take in all of the sound as the ripped the towel from his body, his electric twin crotch-dicks sprung free already at full mast. Steven’s heart jumped with each false yelp and half-hearted moan. As miserable and mechanical as his neighbor’s sex must have been in reality, the idea of two people coming together was enough to get the lonely man off. It was a lullaby, and moments after he came Steven drifted off to sleep in his own enormous wet spot.

It wasn’t until noon the next day that Steven woke up. His eyes slammed open immediately once he recalled his situation. He felt an erotic tingling all over, and throwing back his stained sheet revealed the cause. His nipples had apparently decided to take the form of two rather sensitive cocks. They flopped around lazily, teetering atop the pecs of their grossly overwhelmed host. What’s more, the new crotch-dicks had somehow found another friend, and the three of them held an increased prominence at Steven’s now triple-cocked crotch.

Steven was beyond fainting or bursting into tearful hysterics. At that moment he understood the plain and simple fact that he had to pass the curse on now. There was no other solution. There was nothing else to do. He was about to fly out the door, start naked and all freak-out, when he realized that a little touch of strategy might not totally be out of place.

He knew two things. One: People would be afraid of him. Even if he were dressed; triple boners, phallic nipples, and a slavering dick out the face were not things that could ever slip under the radar outside Ashland. Two: Hustlers would come to the motel, but generally not until it got darker.

Two points in favor of a night-time operation gave Steven roughly eight hours to plan and die of suspense and shame. The plan was simple: stick to the bushes, listen for men, don’t think and just go. Now all he had to do was wait.

Steven looked down at his plethora of penises, then up at the ancient tv sitting in front of him. He was pleased that he was somehow able to keep his hands away from his cock collection.

Maybe he was still worn out from yesterday, but he’d take anything he could get.

Turning on the tv, Steven was prepared to be under-whelmed. After flipping through the same three functional channels a few times he felt strangely justified. On the sixth trip through he came to rest on the Spanish-language channel. An incredibly muscular Latino was singing a playful song that Steven could only guess was about birds. The man was gorgeous. He was wearing a black shirt and slacks with matching boots. His short black hair and stubble perfectly framed his angelic face, his dark, glistening lips.

Steven was on his knees in front of the television. All six of his dicks were rock-hard. He began to stroke them, but his hands didn’t know where to go. He was drowning in options. His eyes glazed over. His cock-pierced face held a look of supreme desire and wanting. He was in love with this man that he could not understand. There was an extended close up of the Latino holding a long note, and Steven went for it.

With a primal grunt of frustration and lust from within he pressed his face against the tingling surface of the tv. His cock-tongue made contact with the image of the Latino’s open, loving mouth. Within instants Steven’s tongue was spewing wave after wave of spooge onto the screen. His other penises joined in as well. Both the television and its stand were becoming caked with hot love as Steven undulated wildly. He tried to cry out in frustration as he continually failed to crawl through the screen and be with the man he apparently loved.

Suddenly the screen went black. Steven jumped back in shock, still dribbling out of his various protrusions. He slowly realized that his cum must have infiltrated the inner workings of the device and caused it to short. Defeated, he fell backward and stared at the ceiling.

After an eternity, darkness fell. Steven was dressed in the only outfit he had; a musky, semen stained t-shirt and a pair of jeans that weren’t accustomed to containing a trio of lanky cocks. He paused briefly at the door to muster his final reserves of resolve, then headed out into the night.

Being an incredibly shady and out-of-the-way motel, one could easily assume a distinct lack of guests. One would be right. As a place that is kept alive completely by the crusty, dark orifices of the underworld, Steven felt a little better about himself for choosing a victim here. They probably had it coming, or at least that’s what he liked to tell himself.

The distant buzz of an old neon sign and the deranged clamor of some unseen ice machine were the only sounds to accompany him as he stalked through the darkness. Steven was very near giving up for the night when at last he heard something hopeful; gentle splashing. Someone was in the pool. He crept toward the scent of chlorine.

There he was. He looked to be flying, as though recently delivered from above. Illuminated from all sides by grimy pool lights, he appeared as a radiant angel. Steven was in awe. He subconsciously leaned forward for a better look. This mysterious man was not wearing proper swimming attire. Rather, he was adorned in white briefs that appeared to be quite well used, and he filled it well. His idealized swimmer’s figure simply wasn’t fair. Had he not been staring at him in person, Steven would have sworn that some manner of photo manipulation was at work. As he admired the platinum-haired beauty he could feel his cocks strain against his unwashed clothing. His tongue began to leak pre-cum.

Gathering his composure, Steven kept his predatory eyes fixed. He was about to make his move when he happened to notice another key component of the scene. Reclining silently in a chair by the side of the pool was a dead man. His gut was still bleeding out, red following the mortar lines. Steven almost screamed. He stumbled backward. The swimming angel stopped at the edge of the pool and looked in Steven’s direction.

“Who’s there?” The man said curiously.

Steven was as silent as death.

“Who’s fucking there?” The man said with sudden intensity as he climbed from the pool. He walked over to the dead man and picked up a knife.

“I can fucking here you over there. Show yourself.”

Seconds ticked by at a glacial pace.

“I’m not waiting anymore, fucker.” The man began to slowly walk forward, knife ready.

Steven’s heartbeat pounded through his body, through his still-hard freak-boners. He knew what he had to do. He carefully walked into the open. His clothing failed to hide any of his obscene erections.

“Jesus christ…” The man stared.

The two strangers examined each other in silence. At this proximity, interesting new details of this newcomer’s physicality came to light. His dripping-wet platinum blond hair was cut carelessly and not well maintained. He sported a very fresh black eye. Scars, bruises, and even some cigarette burns could be found dotting his otherwise flawless skin. His grey eyes stared sharply from behind an excess of running makeup.

Steven produced an unintelligible mumbling sound as he attempted ridiculously at conceal his absurd penises.

“Alright. Come with me.”

Surprised, Steven cautiously followed the strange man. Without expression the man grabbed a key out of the dead man’s pocket. He lead Steven to the parking lot, where a rusted out old car waited. He didn’t say a word. You could cut the tension with a knife, which is exactly what Steven was afraid of. As the man fumbled with the driver-side lock, Steven’s predator instinct noticed opportunity, and he was unable to resist.

He lunged at the man, who quickly spun around and held his assailant with surprising strength. The knife was at Steven’s throat. Despite this, Steven started to cum. It felt as though it had been forever since he had received any form of human contact. Even though death was less than an inch away, he simply could not help himself. He cried out in shame as his spooge began seeping through his clothes and spurting from his face. His shirt quickly became saturated, his pecs clinging to the soggy fabric. He could feel three lines of spooge running down his right leg and into his sock. He even managed to get cum on the knife.

“Calm the fuck down, fucker. I’m trying to help you.” The knifeman finally said after Steven’s cry had subsided. He continued a touch quieter; “I know about a safe-house for freaks like you. Now, get in the back of the fucking car.”

Steven’s eyes widened as he looked down and nodded. Trying in vein to curb his spurting, he crawled into the back of the car. After a few questionable sounds from the engine, the car started up and headed down the road. Steven silently stared out the window as his driver eventually began to speak.

“So, Dickface, you can call me Trucker.” The driver said and looked into the mirror at his passenger. “Seeing as you can’t really introduce yourself, I’m just gonna call you Dickface. hope you don’t mind.”

Steven continued to stare downward as his ejaculations at last subsided, dripping the last of their spooge onto the already dirty seats. Trucker turned his gaze back to the road.

“In case you’re wondering” he continued “Yes, I’m a hustler. The hustler who saved your ass.”

He briefly checked his black eye in the fold-down mirror.

“Now, in my line of work I’ve become intimately acquainted with all you new freaks. I’m not really into it, but there is good money in freaks.” He looked back at Steven again and added “Sorry, doesn’t look like you can afford my freak fee. Fuck, I bet you couldn’t even afford my regular fee.”

He drove in silence for a moment more before continuing.

“Anyway, there’s this new group that formed recently. They call themselves the Brothers of Ashland. They want to help out freaks like you. Of course, most of them are freaks themselves.”

Steven was intrigued, and for the first time since he could remember, a little hopeful. He wanted to ask questions. He looked around for a piece of paper.

“So, Dickface, how long you been a freak?”

Steven stared strangely at his strange savior, then decided to just keep staring out the window and try to figure out where they were going. His newfound feeling of hope began to shrink the moment they turned onto a old bumpy dirt road. The car was soon swallowed up by a great dark forest. Steven’s mind began to race.

Is this a trick? Where is he taking me? Is there a market for sex freaks?

These thoughts continued into the darkness for quite some time. Needless to say, by the time they reached the end of the dirt road Steven’s nerves were in ribbons. They were exactly in the middle of nowhere.

“Alright Dickface, out of the car. There should be a supply of food and water in there. The key’s under the mat. I’ll let ’em know your out here, and someone should be along to help you out.”

Steven slowly got out of the car. He looked at the cabin and back at Trucker.

“That’s it Dickface. Good luck.”

Trucker drove away, leaving Steven in the dark. The sound of insects and nocturnal nightlife was nearly cacophonous. Steven was terrified. Fumbling, he found his way inside and locked the door behind him. There was no other choice.

Much to his pleasure the cabin was humble but cozy. More importantly, it was not full of people prepared to do any number of unspeakable things to him. Still, the fact remained that he was lost deep in the woods, a lonely monster who was a mere night’s sleep away from becoming even more twisted. Steven collapsed on the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part 6: Saturday

Steven awoke to a knock at the door. He looked around the room frantically as he began to recall where he was. Morning light filtered through the green leaves outside of the window.

More knocking.

“Hello! Is anyone in there?” A warm, friendly voice called. It was not Trucker.

Steven quickly took stock of himself. Not only had a fourth cock sprouted from his crotch, his dick-nipples had doubled in number. Also, he had apparently soaked the bed with cum in his sleep. He could really use a wash.

The knock came again.

“Mr… Dickface? Are you in there Mr Dickface? My name in Aaron Fair. I’m here with the Brothers of Ashland.”

Steven remembered Trucker mentioning that organization. He took heart. Wrapping the damp sheet around himself, he crept toward the door.

“Mr Dickface, please open up. I’m here to help you.” Aaron spoke without a hint of frustration.

Steven slowly unlocked and opened the door and was met with a cute, smiling man. Aaron was slight of frame with short blond hair, though not quite a buzz cut. He was dressed in light colors with a white button-up shirt and a long light-purple pants. He wore white sneakers.

“Good morning Mr Dickface! I hope I didn’t wake you. Luckily I was near town when Mr Trucker contacted me. I’m so happy I was able to reach you!”

Aaron beamed a cute smile. He was totally unfazed by Steven’s appearance. Steven’s sheet fell to the ground and he began to cry.

“Oh, come now Mr Dickface. There is no reason to be ashamed. I’m here to help you.” Aaron hugged Steven warmly and didn’t let go. “We’re going to get to the bottom of your recent development. You are now a part of a community who loves and cares for you. You are among friends.”

Try as he might to fight the desire, Steven could not help himself. All of his would-be savior’s genuine compassion and good intentions could not overshadow his lust of lips. Dreadfully, he grabbed Aaron’s head and positioned his unwieldy cock-tongue into position for entry.

“Oh! Mr—”

Aaron was cut off as Steven’s cock-tongue plunged into his mouth. He never stood a chance. Almost instantly Steven blow his load. Still locked in embrace, the two of them fell with Aaron pinned under Steven’s cum-spewing body. The gentle man let out a high-pitched moan as wave after wave of cum slid down his throat. He kicked and shoved and eventually freed himself.

After some coughing and spitting Aaron looked at Steven.

“Mr… Dickface… that behavior is not acceptable… uh… if you cannot restrain yourself, I will be forced to…”

Steven was on all fours, still cumming hard, but with gradually decreasing force. He didn’t know what went wrong. Did he really just attack that sweet man? Why was he still cursed? He looked at Aaron pathetically. Aaron’s clothes were ruined. He crouched down beside Steven and placed a hand on his back as the jizzing subsided.

“Now, come with me inside, and please keep your hands to yourself.” Aaron said with a look of concern.

Inside, Aaron locked the door behind them.

“I will excuse your outburst Mr Dickface. I was warned before hand that you were a grabber. Please know, however, that one of our organization’s points of emphasis is self-control. That is something we will work on with you.”

Aaron looked down at his cum-drenched clothing.

“Well, you certainly did make a mess.” He said with a strange little smile.

“Now is as good a time as any, I suppose. Mr Dickface, I am going to share with you my own condition now. This is not an invitation to sex, but rather, I am showing my solidarity with you. Most of us in the Brothers of Ashland know first-hand what it is like to be altered. We share our conditions in an effort to combat the ill effects of shame.”

With that, Aaron began to quickly unbutton his shirt and remove his undershirt. There was nothing abnormal about his well-developed chest. Next he took off his long pants. This revealed a long, slender cock that extended almost all the way to the floor. Had he not been wearing his shoes he would in fact be dragging it on the floor. Beneath the base of his cock rested two tight golf ball-sized balls. Aaron blushed slightly.

“I was present at the Ashland Incident. I do not like to say that I got off better than others. I did, after all, lost my ability to engage in normal intercourse entirely.”

“I always wanted to have children. To be a father…” Aaron sighed.

“Regardless, I am not better than you, I am not worse than you. We are both Brothers in a common cause. The sooner we can cast aside our shame, the better. Who knows, maybe someday we will even find a way to reclaim what we’ve lost.”

Aaron took a deep breath and turned around to pull a clipboard out of a nearby drawer. Steven couldn’t help but notice the way Aaron’s long cock swung with each movement, sometimes lightly bumping the legs of the furniture.

“What I need to do now is gather as much information as I can on your condition. Here you will find a simple checklist of common conditions we’ve run across as well as ample space to describe your unique position. Every bit helps us to help you.”

As soon as Steven got his hands on the pen and paper he scrawled in big letters “MY NAME IS STEVEN” and showed it to Aaron.

“Oh, heavens. I am so sorry.” Aaron blushed and looked Steven in the eyes. “I had assumed that Dickface was a pseudonym that you had provided to maintain anonymity. I should have known better. Trucker can be such a b-… difficult man to work with sometimes.”

Aaron sighed.

“Still, we must thank him for bringing in the cases that he does.”

As Steven reviewed the checklist of common conditions he actually began to feel a little better about himself. Hyperactive pheromones? Nope. Semen addiction? Thank god no. Phalicization of arms/legs? Hell no. Then there it was, as though it were as common as the flu or chicken pox; Phallic Tongue. He checked that box as well as Phallic Nipples, Numerous Penises (More than Four), and Continual Alteration. He then used the blank space to tell his story. After he finished, Aaron read it immediately.

“Oh, very interesting. This is actually more of a curse than an outright alteration… and it can be reversed? Steven, you are tremendously lucky! I do not know why it was not transmitted to me, though I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I am already altered.”

Aaron briefly appeared vacant as he thought quickly.

“I need to go. I’ll make some calls. I know I can get you the help you need. We can clear you of this curse in a controlled environment with a willing volunteer, thereby taking it off the street.” Aaron bright smile faded a little. “Unfortunately I don’t have anywhere else I can take you for now.

But don’t worry! This cabin is safe, and I won’t be gone long. Three days max.”

Steven whined in protest. Aaron put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know this is not ideal, but our organization is still quite small. We have limited resources with an increasing demand. Unfortunately you have demonstrated to my that you lack the necessary self-control to be out in public. I will be back as soon as possible with the help you need. I have every confidence that you will be cured within the week.”

Aaron gave Steven a quick hug, then started to dress back into his cum-stained clothing.

Steven fidgeted. He was scared of being left alone. It showed on his face.

“I’m sorry. This is the best we can do for now. Hold tight Steven, we’re going to help you.”

One more hopeful smile and Aaron was gone.

As Steven watched his visitor climb into a white convertible and drive away, all hope began to melt. He knew this was pointless. Aaron’s altered state is not what had saved him. The problem was simply that Steven had held the curse for too long. He couldn’t pass it on. It was a part of him now. It was him now.

For the first time in his life, Steven considered suicide. Then he thought of Aaron. Something strange happened. He realized he couldn’t do that to Aaron. He had only just met him, but the sheer radiance of his hope seemed to have grabbed on to something deep inside. Steven resolved to hold out for Aaron’s plan, for Aaron’s sake.

Part 7: Waiting

It would not be easy. He decided to keep a log:

(((# denotes illegible markings)))

DAY 1:

Dicks: 9 (4 chest, 4 crotch + tongue) I met Aaron Fair today. He is so sweet. He is with the Brothers of Ashland and he said they can help me. I hope so.

DAY 2:

Dicks: 14 (8 chest, 5 crotch + tongue) I never thought my life would end up like this. I’m a fucking freak. My pecs look like perverted cow udders or something. Why is this happening? I’m so horny all the time. I can’t stop thinking about all the men I saw recently and how I want to fuck them and turn them into a freak like me. I can’t stop thinking about Aaron’s long dick and how much I want to play with it. Wrap it around my waist and my face. See how deep it can go into my ass. Fuck. I spent all day jacking off yesterday. Time for more.

DAY 3:

Dicks: 20 (10 chest, 9 crotch + tongue) I’m so scared. Aaron said he would arrive today. It’s dark out. I need to see him, or anyone. I have so many dicks, and they just keep getting bigger. As I write this my tongue is hanging between my pecs and about three inches away from my bellybutton. Another thing; my finger tips feel very weird and sensitive. I’m scared shitless. I need Aaron or anyone to save me.

4: DKS: 3### (1# # FK IT### GOD FUKING ## ME FI#GERS NOW DIK# #AN’T EVEN W#IT# N#W

(((This final entry was covered in cum stains.)))

Steven threw his pen to the floor. In a particularly cruel turn of events, his fingers had taken the form of cocks, which were presently oozing semen and making any form of grip impossible. He couldn’t even write anymore. He stared out the window into the night and the empty driveway.

On the fifth day he had a very difficult time convincing himself to leave the bed. At well over thirty enormous penises jutting off of his various parts it became an ordeal simply moving from one room to the next. Before long each door frame had its own slick layer of semen which, while not produced intentionally, did serve to aid in slipping through the now tight space.

On the sixth day he didn’t leave his bed at all. His legs had become two enormous cocks. His once rich range of human emotion was now reduced to two often interlaced modes; horniness and despair. He would wake, jack off, and slip unconscious again. This cycle continued all day until around 10 PM. In the midst of a masturbation session, he saw headlights.

He wanted to get up. He heard a car door slam. He tried to get up. There was a knock at the door. He couldn’t get up. The knocking grew louder and louder. He couldn’t get up. “Open the fucking door!” Trucker shouted. “Dickface! Open the goddamn door!” Steven moaned loudly to no avail. Kicking. Smashing. Hitting. Crash! The door flew open. “Dickface! Fuck. It smells fucking terrible in here. Dickface, are you alright? Holy shit…” Trucker walked in on the nest of cocks the bedroom. “Dickface I… don’t remember you having all that…”

Trucker’s pretty mouth was agape. Steven moaned. “Listen, that bitch Aaron says that he has a lot of kinks to work out in developing some kind of fucking system to keep whatever the fuck you got in control. Fucking planning. A waste of goddamn time. You’re fucking dying out here, right?”

Steven stared at the battered angel through tears.

“I’m here to help. Just this once I’m gonna waive my ’freak fee’ and give you a freebie. I’m only doing this ’cause I don’t wanna see that bitch Aaron wasting more goddamn time.” Trucker began to undress. “So, I heard you fucked little mister perfect’s mouth pretty good! You didn’t get a damn thing for it either, did ya? Well, I’m all fucking man; a real man. No ’alterations’. Gotta see if I can get that dick.”

Steven tried to reach out to visitor with a dickful hand. “Alright, jesus fucking christ, I don’t even know which one is your tongue. How have you been eating? Fuck. Alright, there you are.” Trucker fumbled around, finally reaching his target. “You know, you’d have a pretty fucking face if you would take a fucking shower.”

He grabbed the cock-tongue and put it in his mouth. It came instantly, along with every other one of Steven’s cocks in his massive collection. Throughout his lifetime of hustling, Trucker had experienced many things, but never before had he heard the sound of so many dicks cumming in unison. The white honey went in every direction. As Trucker swallowed, a look of bewilderment came over his face.

Much to his rapture, Steven could feel his body changing. Amidst the musky flood he was shifting back to normal. Gone were the chest-dicks, finger cocks, and dong legs. As all of his other climaxing organs melted away he was at last left with his faithful crotch cock, which was presently cumming harder that it ever had in his entire life. He shrieked in the ecstatic pleasure of it all.

“Oohha—uuhha! Uh! Uck! Uck!” Trucker looked scared for once as he found himself unable to speak.

Steven did not notice. As his heavenly orgasm at last began to subside, he began to experiment.

“Oh…um ah! Hey! Oh shit! Oh shit hey! I can talk! I can talk! Ya ya ya ya hammmmm. Tat. Tit. Fuck yeah!” As he spoke, Steven’s eyes were practically glowing, but his victory rush was halted when he noticed Trucker’s fear.

“Oh god, thank you so much!”

Trucker, dick hanging from his mouth, looked wide-eyed at Steven.

“I owe you so much. Words can’t express what you’ve done for me!” Steven grabbed his friend’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll stick with you. You’re not going to be alone.”

Trucker stuck his tongue out further and looked at Steven longingly.

“I… you want to make out now, don’t you?”

Trucker nodded enthusiastically. Steven took a deep breath.

“It’s the least I can do.”

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