Description John is a wizard and likes helping out his friends—usually in ways that involve none-too-subtle increases in height, equipment size, and muscle.
|Updated||06 Oct 2018|
So I’m Richard and I like big dicks. I just do. They are hot and fun and sexy and warm and I just like them.
I’m talking to John, my wizard friend, about hot guys and he is kinda laughing at me just a bit.
“Rich, if you met a guy with a 12-inch cock you’d be looking for the next guy with 13 inches!” he said.
“No I wouldn’t.” I replied. Well, yes. But I should have kept my mouth shut because John cast a spell on me that afternoon.
I had 9-inch erection myself so I did have trouble finding someone bigger than me, which was hot, but also frustrating. Hey, sex doesn’t make sense.
So I went to class the next day, completely oblivious to this spell, but Henry wants to meet me at lunch. So we walk out into the woods a bit and I kiss him and I reach down his pants for his 7” cock so I can fish it out and give him a blow job.
Well, I hoist it out and I’ll be damned if he’s not more impressive than I remember. More like 6” just soft, you know, so I start sucking and he’s got an 8” erection before you know it. That was nice. He blew his load and I swallowed it. Henry fucking loved it.
“Rich,” he said, “Look how big you make me when I’m hard!”
And he was still hard, sticking out 8”, and it was hot. As he slowly became flaccid his cock drooped and hung over a respectable set of balls. Nice looking!!!
His cock sorta was still hard because he had 7 to 8 inches soft hanging there in front of really good sized balls, bigger than I remembered. Henry was still ready to go again so I stroked him erect, he looked about 9 inches hard, and sucked that. Fuck, that’s hot—he’s almost as big as me, I thought.
Not really, of course, because I knew Henry wasn’t that big. But I was so turned on it seemed that way. So after blowing a second load we took a breather, and that’s when I saw Henry’s soft 8 or 9 inch cock swinging soft in in front of pretty heavy balls.
Henry was packing now, and I told him so. “I’ve always been this size,” he said.
Wow, how had I missed that? So I reached over and started to jerk him off. He didn’t object. He in fact seemed to be in ecstasy. In just a minute his cock was ramrod hard, sticking out a very thick 10” over very big balls. I just kept stroking. Then I went down on him. He liked it and blew another load.
“Damn Henry, you are so hung!” I said.
“Yeah, I’ve always been lucky with that…” he said, and I watched as his cock drooped and hung 9 to 10 inches in front of his huge balls. Wait a minute.
“Henry how big is your cock?”
“About 11 inches hard,” he said proudly.
“Show me,” I insidsted. “I wanna see it!”
He started to stroke his heavy floppy flaccid cock, and pretty soon it was jutting out 11 solid inches. “Oh fuck!” said Henry and he blew. Wow that was a lot of cum. But then his cock got soft and flopped there ponderously thick, in front of huge balls, soft at just 10—no, 11 inches in length. Much bigger than me.
“How big did you say you were Henry?” I asked.
“12 full erect inches! “ Henry boasted proudly.
I gave him another hand job and he shot in just moments, his biggest load yet, and afterwards his flaccid cock was hanging 12 inches in front of monster balls.
“When did you get this big?” I asked.
“I’ve been hung 14” hard since freshman year!” boasted Henry. “Biggest cock at school!”
Then he stuck it in my mouth and I sucked him off. It was heaven. I had a big hard on in my pants and he blew and stood up yelling, “16 fucking inches!!”
Even that was freaky for me so I stood up and I felt it. My crotch impossibly tight. I unbuttoned and my cock tumbled down about 13 inches soft over baseball sized balls! My cock was 3 full inches wide! I was as big as Henry!!
I ran out of there before anything else could happen.
John was teaching me a lesson. So I now had, and Henry had, a 16-inch erect cock that hung 13 full fat inches soft over gigantic balls. I jerked off a bunch of times at home to get to sleep, made a huge mess, but wasn’t any bigger in the morning. I thought that was that. But I was horny and I went cruising, and I met a biker guy in the park, and he had a huge cock, and we went to his place for 69 and it was awesome. but when we were done I asked him how big his monster was.
“Bout the same as your 17-inch dick, Dick!” I was even bigger than before. My balls were bigger and I was hornier than ever.
I stood there with 14 soft fat inches. I could barely zip up my straining zipper, but it held. Barely. I got out of there.
Henry showed up at my home. “My 17-inch monster needs a blow job!”
He hoisted out his soft 14” and stroked it. In moments he blew a huge load.
Then my zipper busted.
My friend John was a wizard. I loved being his friend because I loved him. I was gay, as was John and most of the school crowd I hung out with.
It started, well, not innocently, but without any harm beyond a few bruised feelings.
I was in the locker room at the gym getting dressed and Sam “The Man” Wilson was walking by and he glanced over at my cock from his 6’4” tall vantage and laughed, like he was nervous. Not in my face, he tried to hide it, but he laughed.
I was completely normal. Sam was the freak in the locker room—he was not only tall and ripped and muscled (I hated his parents for his genetics but gave him credit for the muscles), he was also hung.
He was one of those men who probably didn’t get any if much larger when he got an erection, but it meant that in the locker room he was swinging a baseball bat of about 9 inches flaccid. What my friend Eric calls “a real gym dick”. That means a showoff guy who has a huge cock and is the biggest in the locker room, usually.
They do like to show off. Okay, I appreciate it. If only they weren’t so smug about it all. I was definitely on the small side of average.
Sam Wilson also had the complete package. His cock was not only long but was really thick. He also had a low hanging scrotum with a couple of huge balls in there. He always seemed to be around, and he wasn’t shy about showing his cock. Once he stood there and rubbed lotion on his arms totally naked and his cock was hanging there. It was big. Hard to ignore.
“Hey Frank!” Sam said to me after he stifled his laugh. He had mesmerising eyes. Blue green or gold, depending on the light. In the locker room lights, his eyes were green. He was the prototypical hot, blond Nordic guy.
“Hi Sam!” I replied, “What’s up?” And then I realised what I’d just said.
His eyes danced with laughter but he ignored the pun otherwise.
“Hope you have a date lined up for the dance,” Sam said.
“Oh, hey, sorry about that. Someone will show up for you! And I hope you like him!” Sam winked at me.
I was embarrassed and furious. So Sam knew I was gay?
I looked straight ahead not meeting his eyes and definitely not looking down at his package. Nope. Not going there with a straight boy. That’s asking for heartache or a punch in the face.
Of course, looking straight ahead meant I was looking at his chest—wide, thick, ripped with cords of steel—you know, the one in a million genetically blessed mutant man from whom all future humans should be descended.
“Uh, thanks,” I said.
“Yeah, oh, hey, I gotta hit the showers! See you in class!” Sam said it almost like a threat. What was he going to bully me now?
Did I mention Sam had the perfect nipples?
And then he turned with a flourish and his cock swung and slapped his thigh—whap!—as he walked away. I could see all of him reflected in the mirror.
So that was that. Sam seemed a bit put off, you know, or upset with me in the next week. He’d make some joke about me winning some surf competition, (yeah right!) or making the Dean’s list, or getting laid every night.
Well my friend John is a wizard, as I mentioned, and neither evil or chaotic, as far as I knew. I think he picked up his skill playing D&D. Only his spells had real world consequences!
“Frankie, you are so beat down!” John said. “Would you even try to smile?”
I tried, it hurt.
“So what’s the problem?” he asked me. I told him all about perfect Sam Wilson and the way he taunted me for things I wasn’t. So John gets this faraway look in his eyes like he’s reading an invisible book or something, and then he turns to me and grins. He has a great grin. White teeth, handsome blonde-brown hair you’d never expect him to be a wizard. “We’re going to show up Sam Wilson!” John declared. When he gets like this you can’t get him to back away from an idea. “I’m a gonna need your help!” he said an positioned me in the middle of his pentagram on the bedroom carpet. “Hmmmm….” He rummaged a bit, found a book, scribbled some notes in the margins I think and then he clapped his hands.
The room darkened, and red candles lit all by themselves about the room. “Cool effect, isn’t it? Although I think you can buy electric candles…. oh right!”
John was standing at his average 5’10” height looking down at my shorter than average 5’7” height. Damn those three inches make all the difference, right?
John read out his spell in short order, and clapped his hands. The room lit with daylight again.
“What’d you do to Sam?” I asked.
“I didn’t do anything to Sam! That would be unethical. I did something to you!”
“You’ll find out!” John laughed and glanced over at an old classic muscle bodybuilder poster on his wall. Yeah, he was gay too. But we just weren’t, you know.
And the next day was normal. Pretty normal. I went to school, Sam made a wisecrack, and I endured it until PE class and I was in the locker room. I was perfectly normal, nothing had changed. I still had my small package in my small baggy cotton spandex white boxer briefs and… well, that was that.
“Heya, Frankie! How’s it hanging, Mister Foot Long Dong?” Sam said as he walked by. Then he stopped. He walked back.
“What, are you stuffing your underwear?” I looked down. My underwear I suddenly realised and felt was jam packed full of cock and balls. Big cock and balls. My big cock. The spandex was stretched see thru it was so thin. Then he said, “Dude, you know you don’t have to do that.”
Then he looked again and blinked. He could see through the spandex that I wasn’t stuffing and he was looking at the skin of my cock through the sheer fabric. He retreated in embarrassment.
I wasn’t stuffing my crotch, I had no idea what I was looking at except some very overtaxed spandex threatening to give way.
I was undressing for the shower so I pulled down—with a lot of stretching—the briefs and stepped out of them.
My junk descended and hung in front of my thighs. I was hung with a fat as hell foot-long soft cock, and it looked a lot more like a grower than Sam’s. My balls were likewise enhanced. Do you think balls that are 4 inches in diameter are too big? Because that’s what I had hanging there.
I was in shock, I think. Or was this a dream? I knew it wasn’t. So I gawked.
Then I stumbled to the showers along with Sam and some other guys. I hid my junk behind a towel.
Sam was right there once I was rinsed down in the shower. He forgot whatever his wisecrack was gonna be because now he saw 5’7” tall me with a 12” cock!.
He blinked again.
“Holy heck, you had a growth spurt last month, Frankie!” Sam said, surprised.
“I guess I did,” was all I could say. What else could I say?
“Wow I mean, your cock is pretty big! I mean, …”
“Yeah I know it’s a surprise,” I said thinking fast. “But you know some of us guys are gifted.”
“If that’s gifted you must be rich!” Finally he left me alone.
I walked to the showers and proceeded to become acquainted with my new gift.
I loved running the soap suds over my new cock, and I have to say I was super horny and anything touching my balls or cock felt great. This was not like my old cock. My old cock—well, anyways, my new cock was gorgeous. I was cut, with a big knobby head and veins visible under the new skin of my new cock. I pulled up this fantastic meat—ooooh the sensations!!!—and looked to see my giant balls hanging. I looked up.
In the corner shower, Sam was staring, and then when he saw me looking he turned his back. I’d swear he had an almost full erection there. What was that about? He was almost as big at 11 inches when he was erect, when I was just hanging ten—make that twelve—soft inches.
I was so embarrassed I got out of there as quick as I could. What the heck was happening?
Sam’s locker was in line of sight of mine, so he could watch me stuff my giant genitals into my white spandex briefs. They made a wicked lump in my crotch. I found I could fit it if I started with the head of my cock, and then expanded it around my balls one at a time, and then pulled the whole thing up until my bulging briefs were fit to burst. My cock head was under and behind my balls. The huge pouch looked like a softball swinging between my thighs.
I then went to my next class. I had to sit in the chair at the desk, not even daring to look down. Joe Smith sitting in the next desk couldn’t keep his eyes off of me though, not from the first minute that I sat down rather gingerly and had to push my chair back a bit so I could fit behind the desk. What an excruciating hour!
When the bell rang I was the last to exit. But a few of the boys pointed and looked at me as I did.
It was hard to hide the swaying mass in my khaki slacks.
I rode my bike (you should see me in biker shorts!) all the way to John’s at Warp factor 10.
“John! John! John!” I raced into his room.
He was reading. He looked up. “How’d it work out with Sam?”
“Work out with Sam? Are you crazy? Look at me! What did you do?!” I pulled down my trousers and John blinked.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, right, I just made it so when you meet Sam, one thing about you can change into what he likes or wants. It’s an old spell, and has a good reputation.”
“What??? What? You made me … What?? Sam—So he could just walk up to me and think something and it would happen and this was it?”
“Yes! That way he will come to like you. And look, you got a huge gift there—more than you realise, and there’s nothing dark magic about it. Enjoy being the hung stud, for once. Sex gifted from a wish like that is better than any other kind. Brilliant, right?”
“Brilliant!” I shouted. “Brilliant!!!”
He didn’t seem to get my sarcasm. “Anything for you buddy—what are friends for?” John asked rhetorically and continued reading his book like nothing was wrong.
I left fuming. I stopped at the store to buy some spandex underwear for my new foot-long meat. The largest they had was only available in red. It looked okay, I guess, a bit show-offy, but who was gonna see, right?
Everyone saw when I was pantsed in the school hallway the next morning. There were a lot of gasps. Fortunately the bright red spandex was stretched tight around my junk so the underwear didn’t come down all the way when Tom pulled down my trousers. But it came down far enough everyone could see my thick root!
I pulled my jeans back up and they wouldn’t fit over my cock bulge so I had to unbuckle my belt and unbutton the jeans. And put it all back together, this time with an extra tight belt.
So everyone knew I was hung. So what? It was weird. Some of the girls were flirty, some of the guys were flirty, and some of the people were just fascinated by me, a freak of nature.
I didn’t jerk off. Oh, boy did I want to jerk off. But I knew it would be a slippery slope. Once I started with this when would it ever end? This was gonna be gone in the morning, right?
Or maybe after the second day, right? Or three days?
Oh shit I was stuck being huge.
That fourth morning I woke up and apart from having a giant 15 inch rod of morning wood in my jammies, everything was normal.
I was laying in bed, and I felt it. It was heavy, a beast with an insatiable appetite. It was hungry. I slowly stood up, my 5’7” body rising with a 15” sloppy floppy chubby weighing me down.
In the morning light, I was hung like a donkey. No other way to describe it. My balls were so heavy and sensitive I could feel them constantly moving about.
Reluctantly, I reached out and grabbed my new cock. I couldn’t reach around it. I gave it a stroke. Oh my God. My cock rose upwards, hardening into an 18 inch massive piece of steel. Not only that, My whole body felt like it was my cock. I was sensitive all over. I gave myself a long stroke. I grabbed the shaft with my left hand too. Plenty of room for the both hands. Wow.
I was oozing precum, and it slicked the skin under my palm and the sensation was so much my balls hoisted up and I shot. That was an orgasm to remember. They all are, now. But that was the first.
I gasped as I pumped out the semen and my load splatted all over my mirror. Thank you, that was a mess. I grabbed a few paper towels. Forget tissues. After the cleanup, my cock, now properly washed, was hanging clean and dry. I looked in the mirror. I got a tape measure. Flaccid, root to tip, 12”. I not only had the mythical foot long dong but I had one that size flaccid!!
My balls hung in a large ballsack low and wide, the left higher than the right. You know, it kinda looked like any other guy’s junk who was hung like a donkey!! I didn’t know what to do. I sat down. My cock flopped between my thighs.
No sense in posting pics online. My dating life was over. Everyone would think them fake. Ha, me, super hung, can’t show it because then people would think I was a liar online.
It looked hot though, I have to admit. That stray thought was enough to lengthen my cock to 15” again. I was never gonna get this into underwear today if I didn’t stop thinking about how big it is! That did it. Swelled up to 18”. Blew another load. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.
I knew John. I was going to have to ride this one through. Then I stopped. “Wait a minute,” I said aloud to my empty bedroom, “Sam wants or likes this giant cock on me?” For the first time I started to smile.
At least my meat now hung down one leg of my trousers and although it made a huge bulge, I knew I at least could walk around now. Everyone knew. Obviously.
Thank god for loose pajamas. I mean, at least I could move freely now in bed.
I dressed in loose jeans, cinched with a belt, and a muscle tee tank top with a dress shirt over it for class to stay warm in cold classrooms.
I rode my bike that day. It was obvious that John wasn’t going to be doing any more magic for me anytime soon. At least with the new underwear I could ride my bike.
I went out to face my day. Nothing happened. I peed in the toilet, not the urinal, so no one saw, no one noticed me, the runty guy with giant genitals.
At PE I was made to run. I’m a lousy runner, so I got a stitch in my side. It didn’t help that my package was so heavy and awkward. I needed better jockstraps. Just then, who laps me but Sam. “Don’t give up, tall guy!”
And the world changed. I wobbled. What was different? I looked down at the ground. I looked way down at the ground. Wow. I was definitely taller. Otherwise, still me. But Sam had already had his wish for me… oh no I thought, what if he gets a wish every time we meet?
He yelled other stuff at me as he ran by but apparently we’d met for the day on the track. I retreated to the locker room, sweaty, confused, scared. The other guys came in. They didn’t seem to recognise me. Probably thought I was a senior or something. I was bewildered by what was happening. People were so short.
Sam came bounding in and said, “Hey Frankie, you okay?”
I just nodded. I was looking down at Sam. He looked up at me and smiled.
“Man, Frankie, you are the man—you look about—geez, how tall are you now? I’m six-four, and you’re definitely taller.”
“I honestly don’t know. But how tall do you think I am?”
“Well I don’t know, you look like you’re about six foot six or seven—no, more like six foot eight!”
With each version I felt the world spin and I popped taller.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “that sounds about right.”
I turned to my locker, uncomfortable with his sudden interest in me.
“Of course you could be seven feet tall for all I know! I’m a lousy judge of height. Or even seven foot two!”
I turned around before he said anything else. I wanted to leave before he made me a giant and I crashed through the roof! Seven foot two inches tall! I was as tall as an NBA star!
So when we went and showered it was in silence. I was learning to duck my head under the shower faucet, and Sam watched from across the room. But he timed his shower to end with mine.
“You know,” he said as we were drying off and I was wiping my cock with my towel, “it’s a good thing you’re so tall with a monster cock like that… I mean, just so it fits in your pants. What is it, like 13 inches soft or something?”
And I felt my cock swell beneath the towel. “Don’t be silly,” I said.
“Ha ha,” he said, almost turning away, “I know you must hear about it all the time but I never saw a guy with like 14 inches soft before! How big is that monster hard? Don’t answer, don’t answer, sorry. Not my business.”
My cock swelled again, longer.
“Hey,” said Sam, grabbing my arm. “With your bone structure you would make a hell of a bodybuilder.”
Nothing changed as I cringed. Just height and cock for now, from the two “meetings” we’d had today.
I decided to skip school the next day.
But Sam showed up at my doorstep after school. I answered the door, stepping outside so didn’t have to hunch over to look at him past the top of the doorframe. I was surprised to see him at my home.
“Hey I think I owe you an apology for yesterday.,” he began. “I think I came on too strong in the locker room yesterday!”
“Oh, hey Sam, I don’t know what to say… don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, thanks, I just wanted to say that.”
“Yeah,” I said bluffly, “that’s just locker room talk! You were just having fun.”
“Hey, I hope you feel better.”
Sam turned and walked down the walkway. I decided to try something. If I could influence the way he thought about me…
“Oh, Sam, I measured! I’m 6’ 10” tall!” I yelled at him. I was suddenly shorter by 4 inches.
“Hey Frankie,” he said as a parting shot, “I don’t care how tall you are I’m just glad you got that 16-inch cock!”
There was a stretching and straining in my sweat pants. “No, Sam,” I said urgently, “I’m not even 12 inches soft!”
“12 inches, my ass! Mr. Modest! Definitely looks 14 inches! No—15 inches!!”
My straining crotch receded from a zipper busting 16 inches down to 15 inches, which barely could be contained in the Underarmour and board shorts.
Oh hell, I was stuck with this 15-inches-soft monster cock in my crotch—unless I could get him to say a smaller number.
I went inside. At least I fit under the doorway now.
Then I returned to class. I obviously couldn’t hide from Sam. After a good basketball game the next Friday, I was in the showers. The water was streaming down my body and running off my cock and balls. I looked and there was Sam staring at me.
“I can’t get over it—you gotta be, 15, maybe 16 or 17 inches long soft!”
Pop. Pop. Oh Shit.
“Ha that’s silly I’m not that long.”
“Must be because your dick is thick as a can of peaches makes your package look bigger!”
Was his parting shot. Juvenile. I looked down. Fuck my cock was growing thick as a shampoo bottle, pushing out of the stream of the shower spray, and then thick as a can of peaches!
At my locker, I pulled up my sweat pants. Holy crap I’d been like 3 inches wide in my cock, but now… at least 5 inches wide—six inches wide at the widest, since it flared a little in the middle. And now my cock was 17 inches long soft.
And I jerked off four times that afternoon, a new record.
The next day was agony with my knee length soft cock. In the locker room, there was Sam.
“Hi Frankie… can I call you Frank?”
“Just suits you better, you being such a big hairy guy since your growth spurt!”
“Sure, it’s fine,” I said, but he was looking me up and down. Didn’t say anything. We’d run again, which was easier for me npw with longer stronger legs and new heavy-duty jockstrap!
After he turned away I noticed I was now hairy chested. I was hairy on my legs and forearms. I had dark black curling hair on my abdomen leading up to my manly chest. I was sporting huge pubic hair—untrimmed, it stuck out 6” from my crotch, a black hairy forest. I had a five o’clock shadow on my face all stubble—but it was just after lunch!
Then there was the time he said, sneaking up behind me in the hallway at school, squeezing my tricep. “Hey, you got some muscle on you for such a tall basketball player sort of a guy.”
Pop. My upper arms grew from 16 inches to at least 18 inches circumference, filling my tee shirt sleeves.
“Ha, Sam don’t be a goof,” trying to fend off what I knew was coming. “I’m not that muscular!”
But he was hanging onto my tricep, staring in wonder, and said, “Damn, that’s gotta be, what, 20 inches, maybe 21 inch upper arms!” Pop. Now my upper arms were straining at the sleeves of my tee shirt.
“No,” I said.
“Hey Joe!” Sam called over one of his jock friends and made me pose a most muscular bicep flex. “Joe—that’s gotta be 21 inch arms, right?
Joe gazed in amazement at my giant biceps straining my t shirt to the limit. “No, Sam, bigger than that!!”
“No way!” I said firmly, through gritted teeth.
“No, really, Frankie your muscles are big—” said Joe.
“Yeah, that’s gotta be like 23, 24 inch upper arms—cold! “ said Sam. “You are a stud.” And as he walked away my sleeves ripped up to the top of my now impressive deltoids.
“You know that’s not a possible measurement!” I yelled after him.
Sam spun on his heels. “25 inches at least! No, more like 26 inches—I’m sure of it!”
My shirt split and ripped off of me.
Another day I don’t even remember what he said to start but he finished with, “I bet you can cum twenty times a day, supershooter.” It was something about my being good at basketball, being so tall now. Oh, and don’t blow one in the shower, or something, and I said I was saving up for later. Not my smartest remark.
Now I spent 2 hours a day jerking off so my beast behaved. In the shower because I got tired of cleaning up.
At least in the locker room shower I didn’t have to duck so very low to get under the sprayer as when I’d been 7’2” tall. I was of course forced to wear board shorts until I could get some longer pants—they have to be custom.
Especially as Sam, never able to stop razzing me, took to guessing my height again.
I was walking out of the gym when there he was. “Hey I still think you’re like 7 feet tall!” said Sam jokingly. Pop. Only then it wasn’t a joke… it was true.
He looked up at me with wonder… “Maybe you’re like 7 feet 4 inches tall! “
I looked down on Sam from 6 inches taller than moments before. You see why I wore shorts? I never knew how long my legs were gonna be.
So it’s going fine in the shower later in the week, when there’s Sam again. He’s standing a lot closer, a lot of the other guys are catching glances at my meat, but he’s staring.
“I think I was wrong the other day! Your package must look so huge in your trousers because you have those huge swinging balls!—What are they like 9 inches wide?”
I suddenly had a much heavier weight pulling down on my groin. My balls were way too big—immense!
“Hey, Sam, they’re only about 4 inches and you know it.”
“Nope, they gotta be at least 5 inches!” Pop. “No—6 inches. I’m sure of it.”
They shrank from 9 impossible inches down to 5 inches in diameter—a full inch thicker than this morning. Then more inches in thickness again. 6 inches thick each!
I groaned. I was gonna have a package that stuck out another two inches?
That was that week.
“Hey Sam! Do you wanna go to the dance?” Who said that? It was me. Before I knew it I blurted it out.
“What, seriously?” Sam walked back. “You’d go with me?”
“Well sure, even though you kept teasing me before I hit my growth spurt.”
He blushed slightly, but kept up his smirky expression. “I was only trying to get your attention Frankie! Like I said, I was crushing on you when we first met and you were just a short freshman!”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. Sam Wilson was into me—”me” me, not tall hung me, just me?
“Yeah,” Sam admitted, “Hey, so yes, I am totally going to the dance with Frank!” He was practically joyful.
He ran down the walkway. One more time he turned back.
“Hey, you know, we could be workout buddies, we’ll have you looking like a male model on a fitness magazine in no time!”
I was just inside the door, I felt a wave of energy, this must be today’s changeability. I looked in the hall mirror. I was now a fucking hot stud.
I ran into my room. I tore off my sweats and muscle tee—now stretched to the limit. I looked into the mirror naked. Tall, muscled, hung like a Tom of Finland illustration, and handsome enough to be a male model.
I ran over to John’s.
“Oh man, John, it’s the best thing ever. We’re going to the dance together! And look at me!!”
John looked me over, and said, “Well, I’m glad it worked out. And if you want it you can keep that body.” Well, I didn’t have to be told twice.
The night of the dance I showed up in my car, all washed and clean, wearing a tailored suit coat and slacks. I looked good. Sam came downstairs and he looked like a freaking dream come true!
The dance was wonderful, and later we were back in my private bedroom stripping off each other’s clothes. Finally we were naked and I realized this was how it all started. Sam kissed me. Then he said, “you are so beautiful. Your cock is enormous, you’re tall, and strong. So very strong. I love your muscles. They are so freaking huge!”
Good thing I was naked. My body exploded with huge muscle growth. It felt real good.
But I silently thanked John. I guessed I wasn’t going to mind being muscle sex on a stick. Whew. What a life.
My friend John the wizard is a size queen, and that’s okay. I mean, it makes him happy, however unusual it makes life for the gay boys and some of the straight boys at Sun Ville High School.
John’s always about helping others. There was this boy named Mike Steeves, and he used to get teased in the locker room. He was a little blond guy with a tiny penis. I mean, someone has to have one, right?
Anyways, John’s attendance at school is irregular to say the least, because, you know, wizard. But he was there the day that Mike was harassed pretty badly by some of the jocks.
I don’t have to tell you what they said to him, you can imagine. Well, John told Mike the guys were stupid jocks and that Mike would grow up big and strong in a year or two…
“You don’t have to lie to me, John,” said Mike. “I appreciate your friendship but I’d rather you be honest. I know that I’m a little guy and that’s what I’m going to be. I just need to get through junior year of high school without running into those jocks.”
“Well,” said John, “You never know… but I understand. You know it doesn’t matter to me how big of a guy you are, right?”
“Yeah I know,” said Mike, and then as John walked away, “It matters to me!” under his breath. But John heard him.
So John gets it in his mind to help out Mike Steeves, and right after school goes home and casts a spell… or maybe more than one.
Anyways, I’m looking at Mike the next couple of days, and he pretty much looks the same, except his crotch is bulging out more than usual. In the showers, I see John’s magic at work. Mike Steeves, who had maybe a 4 inch dick, had at least a 6 inch dick. His balls were bigger too. I don’t even think that Mike realised then he’d grown, it’d only been a few days, and I was on the lookout for it because I knew about John.
Over the course of the next week, Mike’s cock and balls, his whole package, grows bigger every day until he looks just like one of the regular guys, you know, nothing special, but nothing to be teased about either.
I can tell Mike knows by now because he’s constantly rearranging his meat and pulling at his trouser crotch when he thinks no one is looking.
Well, the next time I see Mike in the locker rooms is almost another week later. I see him changing his clothes to put on his gym wear, and when he pulls down his underwear and puts on his jockstrap I got an eyeful. I mean, Mike was hanging like 7” soft. His balls were like large eggs… you know, substantial. He was very modest about it all. He still wore his towel to and from the showers, and wasn’t mean to anyone or show off or any of that.
“Damn, Mike, you look like you hit the jackpot!” I said to him.
“That cock of yours…! When did it get so big?”
“Oh, um… I noticed it about a week ago. I didn’t think it was supposed to grow that fast though.”
“I heard that it happens sometimes. Some guys grow really fast, all in a rush.”
“Well this is plenty,” Mike said seriously. “I hope it stops growing bigger. I can’t wear a lot of my clothes now without a bulge showing. And I don’t want people to think I’m showing off—not like that jock Jerry Peters.”
Jerry was one of the guys who teased Mike the most. He had a big cock and he liked to wear tight jeans. I’ve seen teachers just roll their eyes in disgust when he comes into class some mornings.
“Mike—no one is gonna think you are Jerry Peters. Your cock is bigger than his.”
That made him laugh, and he said, “You like me with a big cock, don’t you Stan?”
“Yes I do, but I liked you when you had a smaller package too!”
“I don’t think it should matter, how big a cock is. I mean, we are given what we are given.”
“Yeah, I see your point. But some men like guys with big cocks. It’s like a visual aid or something. You know, your cock is big, so you’re a more masculine man?”
“That’s stupid. And … I don’t know the word for men haters. But it’s dumb. Someone is gonna decide who to live their life with based on the size of their cock?”
“No of course not. Mike, that’s, like, not possible for you to get any bigger than you are now. You’re sixteen. And a half. You know, statistically only like one in ten thousand guys has an erect cock longer than nine inches.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But say hello to Mister Ten Thousand.”
I gaped. Mike was telling me his erect cock was bigger than nine inches? “Hey, it all evens out in the end, right?” I had no idea what I was saying.
“Right.” I wished. I thought my 7-inch cock was pretty awesome, but Mike was making me jealous. I reminded myself he’s a good friend and I should be happy for him.
“Where do you get this information?” he asked.
“Masters and Johnson.”
“What am I gonna do if it keeps growing?” He thought for a second. “I guess I’ll buy bigger underwear.”
But that next two weeks I noticed when I saw Mike at school his cock bulge in his trousers was bigger and bigger. Nothing ridiculous, or anything, but, there was something going on there more and more. He was getting looks, getting talked about. Hung Mike Steeves.
That week I ran into Mike in the locker room again, we were both heading to the showers. We stood aways apart as guys do in the showers, but I looked over and my jaw dropped. Mike Steeves was hanging 9” flaccid from his crotch. And, I mean, thick, too. Any porn star would cry over not being Mike right about then. Balls like ripe oranges. Two weeks ago he’d had a 7 inch cock hanging there, now… wow.
So I knew, or thought I knew, that John’s magic spell had done its work. I mean, maybe overdone its work. So I thought that was that. But I was wrong. The next week, again, I see Mike in the hallway and he’s definitely got a gay boy’s dream crotch bulging thing going on. I tell myself it’s just the slacks he was wearing that day.
But I saw him again later that day, I was just finishing up at the gym, and Mike was just drying off after his shower, and … Man, his cock was bigger again. I know what a ten-inch cock looks like and that’s what he had hanging from his groin. Also his scrotum was a huge sack and his balls were like grapefruits now.
Wow. I wanted to drool all over it. But I knew that wasn’t cool. Or was it? Or should I ask Mike on a date? Maybe that. Well, anyways, don’t think me too shallow, this was high school.
He laughed cause he saw me looking. “I guess John was right, I just needed to hit my growth spurt!”
“Well, Mike,” I said, “that is a big cock you have there! No doubt! Does it make any difference in your life?”
“Well, the jocks stopped calling me teenie weenie.”
“Yeah, I can see why they stopped.”
I guess I was staring because Mike looked at me and looked down and then looked up and said, “Do you like it? I mean, do you think it’s too much?”
“No, no, Mike,” I blurted out. “You look great! Any guy would be happy to have what you have swinging between your legs! And anyways no one has any choice over that, right? I mean, you had a smaller cock, and nows it’s… gulp….. gotten larger.”
“Gee thanks, Stan!” said Mike. “Hey do you want to go see a movie or something Friday night?”
“What would you like to see?”
“Anything you want to show me, I mean, see, anything you want to see. I haven’t caught anything that’s out now.”
Mike laughed. He thought I was teasing, in a good way, but it was an honest misspeak. I couldn’t get the image of his cock out of my head. I kept glancing down, and finally Mike was like, “Oh, hey, I forgot the time.” He threw down his towel, his cock and balls hanging right there three feet away from me, and I watched as politely as possible while he pulled on some boxer briefs and loaded the basket full up with his 10” cock and grapefruit sized balls. Then he pulled on his baggy khaki jeans, you know, but I could tell.
So it was about four nights later we went out to dumb space movie #27 and Mike was really flirty. If I’d had any suspicions about him being gay, I knew that night he was at least bi. So in the car later we’re making out and he reaches over and feels my chest and I do the same to him and then his hand goes lower and so does mine and his hand finds my rock hard 7-inch erection filling my jeans. My hand… my hand… I find his big fat cock, it’s semi hard but not all the way, you know, and I feel down his thigh… and the bulge just keeps on going. I mean, a lot. Like 12 inches long. And I realise that his cock is really, really thick, like thick like a coke bottle or something. So we make out a while and you know, we don’t, rip down our pants. I wanted to, but I wasn’t really ready to take advantage of Mike when all this was going on, and I say good night, and as he gets out of my car he leans in to say goodbye and I can see the huge mostly erect cock running down his leg inside his trousers.
So the next week, you know, I called Mike to say thanks and he said he really wanted to go out again. I was very flattered. And I wanted to go out with him too. The big cock was just a really nice bonus.
So I figured, that had to be it, right? And now that Mike and I were “dating” it was just more silly fun in the locker room. At the end of that next week, Mike had 12 inches hanging from his groin. Soft. Mike had the biggest cock of anyone I’d ever seen or heard of. He asked me not to tell people about it. He knew it would follow him everywhere if people knew.
Mike was cut. His balls were likewise massive, and he’d already figured out how to dangle his meat down his leg in underarmour briefs and mostly hide it from view when he wore his loose jeans or slacks. No big deal, except, of course, it was a big deal. To me. I guess I didn’t realise what a size queen I was. Would I date Mike if he wasn’t hung? Yes, I’m sure I would. Would I enjoy it as much, well…nope.
That next weekend my folks were out on an overnight hotel stay for work so Mike came over. And he brought his 12-inch cock with him. Except it wasn’t 12 inches. It was 13 inches. and his balls were becoming impossible to hide in his slacks no matter how they were arranged.
Well, we jerked off together. He stroked off my 7-inch and I stroked his 15-inch erect cock. When we came together it was hot, he was on top of me, and his giant load went all over my chest. Then he kissed me. Hot.
So we did a 69 thing after that, he was raring to go and his enthusiasm infected me too. I loved the feeling of his big cock head in my mouth. It was really firm but just a bit spongey, so I could tease his glans with my tongue. That was a great night.
So then we did that thing guys do where we get intense with each other, so we back away. So I didn’t talk to him for four days after that except one call to thank him for a great night.
Then we both call each other, and leave voicemails, and we both are asking each other out on a date, so we go out the next Friday night. Guess what? Mike’s parents have a “pool house” on their back property so… we ended up there.
We made out and all, and then there was something on his mind, and he said, “You know before I take out my cock that I got a big one. Well, I have to tell you it’s gotten bigger. It’s starting to worry me.”
Starting to worry him, with a 15-inch erect cock? Well, I say it doesn’t matter to me and that’s not why I go out with him or anything and so… we both slide down our trousers, and he’s freeballing, cause there’s not underwear big enough. Mike Steeves had 15 inches hanging from his crotch. “If it didn’t feel so good jerking off this giant meat I would worry about it more,” said Mike. I just stood there looking at him. He was humongous.
“So the jocks still bullying you?” I asked.
“Well, they like calling me shorty. They think it’s clever because I’m hung with a big cock but I’m only 5’6” tall.”
“That’s about their speed. I’m surprised they could even think that up.”
Mike laughed. He liked when I made him laugh. So I find out a few minutes later his erect cock is now 18 inches long. It’s… wonderful.
“I hope it stops growing bigger,” said Mike, “I don’t want to be a recluse or something.”
And it did stop growing bigger. Right about then, I was guessing. Because Mike Steeves calmed the eff down that week, and told me everything was okay. We made a date for the weekend. We were going for a hike.
So when I show up, He’s dressed but his jeans cuffs are a couple of inches too short. So I made sure he had on long socks and rubber bands on this calves to keep out any fleas or ticks.
“I wish you’d have worn some longer pants,” I said. I thought he wore something old in case it got scuffed on the trail.
“These are the longest pants I have,” Mike said. “I need to buy longer ones. I guess I’m having another growth spurt.”
I looked at him and sure enough he was not as short as I remembered, by a lot. Now, I’m 5’11” tall, so I guess I wouldn’t much notice. So we had our hike, our picnic, our makeout session in the woods, and spent most of the day. On the way back down I looked at Mike again. He was taller, for sure.
So then my sister comes to town and I can’t see Mike for a week at the holidays and then there’s a thing with Mike’s Mom and so it’s almost two weeks before I see him again.
Well, he showed up, and I only recognized him because he was looking for me, and spotted me and waved. He’d grown …!
“How tall are you now?” I asked Mike as we enjoyed an ice cream milk shake. “I’m 5’9” tall! Isn’t that great!?”
“Well, sure, if it makes you happy.”
“It makes me happy to reach things on higher shelves without the stepladder.”
So the next two weeks flew by and we spoke on the phone and when we met again I was prepared for him to be as tall as me. No big deal, right? Well, He was taller than me. He was 6’1” tall.
“Damn!” I teased him. “Now you’re as tall as a male model. You can do underwear advertisements.”
He groaned at the thought of even having to try to contain his massive cock in any regular underwear. But then he laughed. I could always make Mike laugh.
So it was interesting. Now that he was taller things were different, like, his tongue was longer when we kissed. Very hot. And he had long arms and legs, still a skinny guy, but with his blond hair he almost was a male model. But when we climbed in bed together we both made adjustments as to how we fit together and slept together. I never sleep as well as when I’m in Mike’s arms. That’s the truth of it.
So the next time I see Mike he’s shooting hoops at the basketball court. He’s got on long cut gym shorts and he’s pounding up and down the court. Wow. You could see his junk flying around in his crotch, in spite of his overtaxed jockstrap!
He really had speed and stamina. I tag in the game for a while and we’re on opposing teams, which is sexy as hell, and he doesn’t hold back and neither do I. Finally I’m exhausted but he’s ready to keep going. And he plays two more games back to back.
After that we showered and changed. I could see his giant cock big as ever, swinging there between his legs, and then I noticed how tall he really was. Afterwards I measured him on the scale. He was 6’5” tall. Even he was surprised.
And you can guess the next month. We kept dating, Mike was freaking out because he was getting so darned tall, and finally he told me he was afraid I wouldn’t date him if he were physically changed. I dated the hell out of him that night just to show him how much I wanted him.
Finally we’re having pizza one night, and he’s… tall. Filling the booth seat at the restaurant. Turns out he’s 6’10” tall.
“Wow, I hope you don’t get too much taller,” I said. “You’re gonna start hitting your head on door frames.”
“Too late,” said Mike around a mouthful of pepperoni and fake-rapped himself on the head with his knuckles.
“Besides,” he said when he finished the slice, “if I’m tall enough I can play big leagues. Make real money at basketball. I love the game.”
“Well, if that’s what you want, then I hope you grow to 7’3” tall!” I said.
And the next month, he was.
“So are they still calling you shorty?” I asked him one day.
“Not to my face… and only ironically. But they do refer to me as skinny, which irks me.”
“Hey, you just haven’t filled out yet.”
Well. About a week later I see my giant basketball-playing, hung like a mule boyfriend in the showers again. And you know, he’d put on maybe 20 pounds of muscle. It looked good on him, and I told him so.
“Yeah,” said Mike, “I hope I get to be a huge bodybuilder.”
“At your height?” I said doubtfully. “Wouldn’t that screw up your basketball chances?”
“Not necessarily,” said Mike easily.
It’s amazing how much a person can change, my beanpole boyfriend was packing on 20 pounds a week—of ripped muscle. Not that I was complaining.
No, when he hit 300 pounds at 7’3” tall with 25” biceps, I was not complaining. But shortly after that his changes stopped. John had really done a number on him. Wow.
Or had he done a number on me?
My friend John the Wizard had been attending school more regularly the past few weeks. I couldn’t figure it out—I mean, he didn’t have to come. He could magic away his absences.
So one day at lunch I ask him about this, and he looks at me. He’s got these cute hazel eyes, you know? Sometimes they look green or gray, depending on the lighting. Well, he’s looking at me, which is a bit startling, because he is one of those guys who rarely makes eye contact. He’ll say whatever and then quick glance at you to see what you think.
Well, okay, you’re right. I had a crush on him. Although it was funny… I’d seen what he’d done around school, and all the guys with huge cocks and muscles and turning super hot, but he’d not changed a bit himself, you know? Maybe he couldn’t? Or maybe he didn’t want to.
He sure didn’t have to. I thought he was cute. He also had a high, tight, round bubble butt that looked very inviting. He was about 5’11”, I think, and I was about 5’8”, but he didn’t seem to mind me being shorter. He was kind of inscrutable. I mean, you could never tell what he was thinking, but he was mostly mellow. I only saw him sad or angry once or twice. It was like a rain cloud just covered his face for a second, you know, then he’d be okay.
Of course it didn’t seem likely the Wizard could be interested in me, Tristan Hardy. I mean, I was handsome enough in that all-American, boy-next-door way. We were both Caucasian so I wasn’t anything exotic to him, and I had dropped a couple of hints that sank like lead weights.
I’d hit the gym more now that it was my junior year. So that helped a bit. Not that John noticed.
Well, anyways, we’re just being friends chatting and I ask him why he’s coming to school, and he says he’s missing his friends and wants to meet new people too. I kinda folded inwards when he said that, about meeting new people. He probably was looking for someone to date, you know, but I had long ago resigned myself to being the friend. Not even the best friend. I don’t think I could have stood that you know, it hurt my heart enough just being around him. And I don’t mean because he was a wizard. I liked him before then just as much. But now—no way. So that’s that.
But I kinda cover it over and I say I hope he meets someone he likes, and that we’d all been missing him in class, and his eyes kinda flashed when I said that part, but you know, his eyes were like that anyway. It didn’t mean anything. He did say thank you and it was good to know and etc.
So then I majorly change the subject and start telling him the gossip, nothing mean, but I told him about the gym, and (ahem) the locker room, and some of the guys, and who was nice and who was mean and who was trying real hard and all that dating stuff too. We talked all the way through lunch.
So the next period was PE, that’s physical education, so I went to change and I put on my jockstrap and shorts and shirt and gym shoes and John was there right alongside me. He was hung decent, you know, but he’d always been that way. Which is funny, ‘cause I’d swear he was a bottom. But there’s nothing wrong with that either.
I was woefully on the small side of average, 5” erect, so nothing to write home about.
Well, I made some oblique comment about my new underwear my Mom had bought me. She was super cool about me being gay, and she’d bought some different colors of this nice, sorta lycra underwear. Well, the thing is, they were cut for big, hung guys. The waistband fit, but the pouch was cut so large it was like an empty paper bag. I mean, even when I was hard I couldn’t reach the bottom of these. I’d measured at home, and the lycra stretched out so far, I’d have to have like 9” soft to actually fill these up tight. Of course I was sensitive about it and I said something about the stupid cut of the pouch and it was cut for huge cocks not regular guys. Not that I needed a lot of support, you know.
But I guess John had something already percolating in his mind, because when I went out to the field he stayed behind in the locker room a few minutes. We had a fun game of volleyball, and although it’s more fun in sand at the beach it’s still okay on the black tarmac. I worked up a sweat, showered, peeked at John’s cute butt, and he saw me look of course but I laughed it off. He got that look in his eyes. Anyways we showered and toweled off and I got dressed in the bright red underwear that fit my waist but not my dick, and went back to class. And blah blah blah.
I noticed John stayed with me the whole day. I mean, he was in all my afternoon classes, but he just kept hanging around. So then it was after class and I headed to the gym. We had an amazing gym at the high school—it was from grant money but I think maybe John set it up. So I changed again. I mean, I started changing again. I didn’t want to wear my sweaty jockstrap so I just put on my shorts and shirt over those red underwear and who do you think shows up to work out? John. So he asks my help with the exercises.
Normally of course I help anyone who asks because you know, people need encouragement. I was happy to help John, even though I knew it would slow down my workout. But he was being friendly and it had been a while, you know? So we’re working out doing the basics, and he’s doing okay.
He’s got a strong body and could build a lot of muscle if he tried. Even normally, no magic or anything. So I’m spotting him on the bench press and he’s doing okay and he rests after a set and I’m standing there with my crotch over his face about a foot away, and he said, “Looks like you’re shorts are showing all your goods, Tristan!”
I looked down and yeah they were bunched up in front so I just pulled them down and then yanked down the red underwear from underneath, because they were tight and the loose fabric had obviously gotten folded and jammed into some corner. So that fixed that, the short did show my bulge and made it look bigger than it was, because it was that nylon and the shorts were cut high so it looked like my dick was hanging low. Lower than it was really, you know? Sorry about all the dick explanations. I did enjoy looking down on John who showed a large curved bulge as he lay on the bench. Well, you know I had a thing for him so I started to get turned on. I thought about maggots in ice cream and naked old ladies and that worked. Whew.
We did the whole workout and John was so happy. He was what you would call gleeful even. Well, he was playing a practical joke on me. I didn’t realise it—he’d thought I would have figured it out by then but I didn’t change out of my underwear. So I get ready to shower again and I strip down and I’ve got my towel around my waist walking to the showers, and something is weird. I mean, really weird. John is there practically chortling and I’m just thinking he’s amusing himself with some inner joke. But I was the joke—a practical joke. So my legs feel funny and my nuts and cock are kinda getting in the way while I’m walking, but I get there, and I turn on the shower, and I get under the spray, and I’m checking out John, who’s laughing at the next shower jet, and I soap myself down and I get to my crotch and I freak out. I was suddenly holding a double handful of cock, fat as all get out, I mean soda can thick, and I look, and I’m sure I’m gaping ‘cause I see I have huge balls hanging low, almost as low as my long cock. And I mean, I was soft. And it was that big. Fuck. There was only one explanation. I look at John and he’s laughing really hard and I try to be mad but I laugh and he says, “It looks good on you Tristan!”
“Yeah,” I said kinda sarcastically, more than I meant to, “all I need now is muscle and a makeover and I’ll actually be hot enough to ask you out on a date.”
Fuck. What did I just say? I looked at John, and he looked away, and I said, “Look, we’ll deal with it later.” I didn’t know what I meant by that but I wasn’t gonna stay and discuss it. I rinsed off as quick as I could and left with only checking John’s butt like twice.
So I went back to my locker and toweled off. My hair seemed super wet so I kept rubbing it with the towel and over my face and I don’t think I was crying at all.
So, no way I’m putting on the red underwear. I mean, that could get ridiculous. So I have a new pair of blue underwear, the same manufacture and cut (cheap knockoffs from China) and I pull those up my still damp legs. Uh… I had to stop and reach into the pouch and push the fat huge head of my dick down into the bottom of the pouch and then kinda pack my balls in so they didn’t pull the fabric away from the skin at the hem line, you know, but then I had a very, very full package. I saw what John had done. He’d magicked it so that my genitals would be so big they would completely pack these underwear. I admit it looked hot, but all I was thinking about was John’s face. When I said I wanted to ask him on a date. Fuck. What an idiot I am. So I get dressed in my street clothes and it’s unmistakable in the mirror. I had a big package and it showed. Even when I tried to adjust things and loosened my belt a notch so my trousers hung lower on my hips. Yeah, you could see everything plain as day. Fortunately I could just go straight home. So I look up.
And there I’m looking at myself in the mirror. But it’s not me, I mean, it is, but my face, it’s like more symmetrical and I have a freaking 5 o’clock beard shadow line and I’m just … way more handsome. Then I remember the towel, and having to rub and rub to get my hair dry. By the way, my hair was now this incredible California surfer dude golden brown-blond with highlights and it made me look like a movie star.
Why was John doing this to me? I didn’t do anything to him. I mean I was totally respectful and kept my distance. I mean I looked freaking exotically handsome with the brightest blue eyes with super long dark eyelashes. Women come up to me now in the supermarket and stick their fingers in my hair and say, “I wish I had hair like yours!” And then they’d see the eyelashes. And the same again. It’s okay now. I’m super polite.
So all that was going on, me now hung so big it was as embarrassingly big as it used to be embarrassingly small! And now I looked … well. I tore my eyes away from the mirror. I headed home.
I didn’t look up from the pavement almost the whole way unless I was at a stoplight. I was riding my bike, of course, and fortunately John hadn’t made it sprout wings or turn into a unicorn or anything. I could feel my package chafing against my slacks, but I ignored it. It just seemed to get tighter and tighter as I rode home, and I was a bit wobbly on the bike because I thought of John’s fixing my package. Yeah, I was gonna have to figure out how not to man-spread my legs … I’d have to put a newspaper or book or briefcase or folded jacket in my lap. That should work.
I’m almost home when I realise something’s up. I heard a ripping sound and it was from my waist area it seemed. I guessed maybe I’d torn my new underwear. But I felt a breeze and realised I’d torn my trousers underneath. I plowed on homeward and it seemed to take forever but I got there and I dumped my bike and ran inside and yelled, “Mom I’m home!” and ran upstairs before she could see me. I was all fucked up. My pants were… I was standing in the bedroom, I had one of those cheap full length mirrors—and my formerly loose pleated slacks were now wrapped around legs with thighs like a chicken farmer’s dream. And I saw my slacks were now easily 5 inches too short. And my ironically grungy heavy metal tee shirt that I wore super XL so it fit me like a gunny sack was now stretched almost to the point of bursting across my chest and I had already split the arm sleeves. I then noticed that I had about 5 inches of ripped hairy abs below the shirt and above the waistband of my tortured slacks.
My mom called up the stairs just then so I took a step and my shirt exploded off of me and my thighs split up the outside seams.
But I made it to the door, stuck my head out and yelled down, “What?”
“I put your new clothes up in the closet and in your dresser, Travis. I hope you like them.”
“Gee thanks, Mom. I’m sure they’re great!”
What the hell? Well, John was trying to make nice. See he’d magicked my towel and my red underwear and my blue underwear. Looks and package and muscles and size.
I closed the door, tore the tattered remains of my shirt off of me, and then managed to tear my way out of the slacks. And then I stood up and I think I kept going up. At least 4 inches. And my whole body was kinda top-heavy because I was built like Mr Olympia and my legs were like sequoia tree trunks and—wow, my ass was super-hot and round and muscled in the blue very very tightly stretched but holding it together barely briefs. I stretched because I felt all bunched up and when I did all my muscles swelled up like balloons. I mean it, once I was out of those clothes I almost doubled in size. I walked back to the mirror. There I was in the tightest briefs you could find on my now colossal beastly muscle body, and my socks were way overstretched by my much larger feet. My shoes were in tatters by the door. One size fits all? Nope. My hairy abdomen led up to my gigantic hairy pectorals and above that was my fantastically wide shoulders and huge deltoids and giant trapezius muscles. I was almost a giant. I was under 7 feet, so I guess I was 6’11”. No big deal, growing 15” taller on a bike ride home. I stretched my arms wide and my pecs grew bigger. I posed a double biceps and when I did my triceps and biceps just kept getting bigger and bigger and I suddenly realised I had better stop this posing. But It was already way too late. My arms, chest, back was gigantic. My legs were the legs of Titans.
Right about then my briefs split right off my body. That was a sight, all my junk tumbling down loose and free. I was gonna be popular.
I walked to my dresser before I got a hard on, and found new underwear with much larger sizes. And pouches. Haha. These were bright purple, but not too light, kinda dark but intense. They looked good on me.
I had socks from the men’s big and tall store and I found new shoes size 17 in boxes under my bed. That should make swimming easier, I thought, and looked at my huge long fingered hands that could easily palm a basketball. I had board shorts, that fit, and long slacks, that fit and were made of stretch material so they would fit better. Of course that just made it tighter on my muscles. Oh, yeah. I pulled on a muscle tee and then thought of my mom downstairs and put on a button down shirt over the muscle tee and then I was dressed. I looked in the mirror. I think my jaw, (which now was square and pronounced and manly) actually hit the floor. I looked amazing.
I heard three raps on the doorframe of my open bedroom door. I turned and there was John. “What the hell, John?” I said, because I had nothing else to say.
“See, I knew you wanted to go out with me,” he admitted. I gaped at him and he went on, “I realised it earlier this week. I sometimes can feel emotions when they are really strong, and so I figured out you thought I was out of your league. So I wanted to show you that you weren’t. I’d go out with you—the you you were this morning, if you want.”
“Uhh.. urp… blurp…” I said intelligently.
“So don’t think that I’m too good for you, or anyone is too good for you… no matter if you are taller or shorter or whatever. So… should I undo this?” he gestured to my body.
“Don’t you dare!” I said before I knew I was saying it.
“Oh, good,” said John, “because I am pretty much a bottom and … I’m also a bit of a size queen. So this will likely be more fun. If you’re okay with it.”
“I guess I can get used to it, you know, put up with it.”
John smiled at me, which was rare I realised suddenly. It was beautiful. “It’s gonna change your life.”
“You did that already.”
And then he was in my arms. He wasn’t just a bottom, it turns out he was a power bottom. But I was happy to make him happy… it all worked out.