Description Andrew is tired and covered in mud after cleaning up his team’s sodden footie pitch after a long, sodden practice. All he wants is to slough off the muck in the team’s dilapidated showers… and, all right, maybe sneak in a secret wank while he’s at it. While he’s in the changing rooms alone, though, he comes across a most unexpected piece of equipment.
|Updated||01 Jun 2018|
What Andrew had thought to be a simple task had taken forever. The 23-year-old trudged despondently back towards the club changing room, having been long deserted by his teammates, who had favoured getting clean and on with their busy lives as soon as possible. Today… today had been a bad day.
He wasn’t far from the building when the dying light of the sun peaked from behind the clouds, bathing the field in a deep orange glow, a pleasant enough sight… even with all the mud. Andrew, however, was in no mood to appreciate this new warm palette. He was wet and exhausted. So, he merely shielded his weary eyes and marched ever more intently towards the run-down concrete shed that they happened to call a changing room.
He looked up as he approached. If he wasn’t so tired he would have given a wry smile. Was he actually looking forward to going in there? Dilapidated was not a strong enough term to describe it and, even in the warmth of the evening sun, the building managed to maintain a look that was distinctly… soviet? Was that the quality it held? Decaying external walls of reinforced concrete, the mesh within visible in several places and rapidly rusting. The windows had been boarded up long before he had joined the club, the remnants of their shattered glass still visible here and there about the place. All of that topped with a roof placed so… haphazardly, on its support that it was as if the builders had simply run out of time and dropped it into place, hoping that it would stay there. Yeah, the club really needed to find a better source of funding than the local council.
Andrew just dragged his tired arse inside and closed the door on the sun, collapsing down to rest. He was absolutely hanging. Work had been a nightmare. He’d had to do an hour of unpaid overtime, leaving him just half an hour for dinner and to get to practise on time. Then, the captain had worked them hard. Far harder than an amateur team should have to train. Sure, it was the build-up to the beginning of the season, but it was still cold and wet out and they were all still unfit and sluggish from the fading winter and the gluttony that it brought. Still, at least spring was beginning true to form, he thought sardonically… with rain.
To top it all off, he was the poor sod sent to tidy up afterwards. All he had to do was clear up the pitch of training equipment and return it to the rickety shed where the stuff was kept, but the combination of a days’ worth of rain and a thoroughly exhausting training session, plus a few training matches for good measure, had turned the grass into a muddy mess and he was caked in the stuff. It was on his face, in his thankfully short blond hair, and all over his clothes. In his eagerness to get it all done quickly he’d taken more than one tumble, ending up very nearly face down in the muck a few times.
Still, he had agreed to do this when he joined the team. Everyone had. They’d even made a rota. Although it seemed that, in the few months that he’d been part of the club since joining, he’d had to do it disproportionately more than anyone else. Minor hazing aside, it figured that he would be the one chosen to tidy up on a day like today, the bastard sun only showing up to taunt him after he was done.
Fumbling briefly with his shoes, Andrew eventually freed his aching feet, tossing his mud-covered trainers to the side unceremoniously and massaged one foot then the other. He leant back and closed his eyes, resting his head against the door. It didn’t matter that work was awful, it didn’t matter that his body and feet ached. All that mattered was that the day was over and now he could take his time. No more rushing, no more worry. Nobody around to hurry him or get in his way. He could just leave it all behind.
First, however, there was the matter of getting clean… or as clean as he could get in this old dump. He’d often considered suggesting that they give the place a once over, but he didn’t think they’d get water hot enough to cleanse this shitty room. One of his teammates had joked about burning it down, half seriously Andrew thought, and even changing in a burned-out wreck had seemed more appealing. Though Andrew had to admit that his dislike of changing here was not limited to the condition of the place. There were… other reasons.
Frankly, if he couldn’t enjoy a training session with his team without getting a stiffy over their nice, bright, and very tight training shorts, then changing here with everyone was sure to give him a raging hard-on. It was so embarrassing that he had taken to just changing in his car. There wasn’t much room, but a hell of a lot less temptation. Today, though, was an exception. He was filthy, and nobody was here to bother him…
The young man sighed, opening his eyes and shakily getting to his feet. He looked around, quickly spotting the keys resting on the hook near the door. Clearly, he was meant to lock up after he was done. Not that it was anything more than a formality. A light breeze would be able to force the door open, such was the amount of wear the mechanism had sustained over the years. Still, he’d do it anyway.
Yawning, the mud-covered man stretched his arms outwards, before moving them around to his sides and finally upwards, his fingertips lightly brushing against the ceiling. He tilted his head lethargically, rubbing a cramp in his neck that he’d had since he finished work. He suspiciously eyed an off-colour stain on the ceiling, hoping that it was just a water stain… and that he hadn’t touched it. To be honest, he was more than a little surprised that he had actually been able to reach up to it. He’d never really thought of himself as particularly tall, but he was far from the shortest member of the team. His friend Scott stood the tallest at 6’5”. That is why they called him Tall Scott, after all… even now, long after Short Scott had left. Andrew sighed again. He was just average. Average in many ways. Average height, average skill, average attractiveness.
The changing area was unfamiliar, as he’d only really seen the inside through the door and on the few occasions he’d actually come in here it had been fully of sweaty men, so the décor, or lack thereof, had not been at the forefront of his mind. Even so, he’d never really gotten a good look at it and had idly wondered once or twice what the dilapidated structure actually looked like from the inside. Now that he was seeing it, though, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he had been curious. It was a Sports Club changing room. Weren’t they all basically the same anyway? Barring a few minor grievances, the interior of the building was certainly holding up better than the exterior, but it was still not exactly pleasant.
The door was centred on the front wall, contained within a short, narrow corridor, no more than three or four feet long, with a few false walls that would obscure most of those changing. At least he assumed that was originally the plan, but the dividing walls had not held their own against time or the might of his predecessors and compatriots. Only the other week Ellison had pushed Jones a little too hard and the flimsy material had given way to the man’s weight, finishing off the doomed structure. It was lucky that they weren’t too heavy, because as that one fell, it started a domino effect and the other fell right onto Tall Scott. Man, had he been angry. Once all of the debris had been removed, there was unsurprisingly little of the left-side hall wall remaining, with the right one only reaching to about waist height now. What remained was peppered with holes and dents from several decades worth of abuse. Still, at least it really opened up the space now that they were gone. Gave a really great view, as soon as one entered, of what a shithole it was in there.
The changing areas themselves were unsurprisingly spartan. To the right of the door there were just benches, arranged in an ill-thought-out pattern, and clothes hooks, attached to dirty dark yellow walls and rusting metal scaffolds, with a single full-body mirror to aid dressing tidily. To the left was just more of the same. Each was lit by a single tungsten bulb, casting an off-yellow light that didn’t quite reach far enough to illuminate the whole room fully, at least without natural light from the boarded-up windows. The floor comprised bland, white ceramic tiles continuous between both right and left. They were stained beige by the multitude of shoes, clean and muddy, that had walked over them, and the lighting wasn’t flattering them either. Regardless, Andrew could already tell that getting out of the shower and onto those cold tiles was going to be an ordeal unto itself. The showers themselves, he knew, were in a separate room, opposite the door and accessible from both sides of the changing room. A convenient way to move from one side to the other without being seen, perhaps?
Tracking mud further into the changing room, completely undoing the feeble attempt by another club member to try and clean up the mess that the others had caused, Andrew headed to the left dropping clothes as he went. His sport shorts and underwear came off easily, but he had to peel the tight fitting, wet and muddy shirt off of him in a most unpleasant fashion. Still it was good to be free of it all. He’d left his other clothes in the car, but he’d be damned if he was going to get them and his car filthy going for them now. He’d figure out what to do after he was clean. At least he could give his dirty shirt some time to dry.
By the time he reached the showers, he was fully undressed and ready. The 23-year-old wasn’t the slimmest, but he cut a good shape… or at least he thought he did. He got just enough action to suggest that this was the case. That and most of his winter weight had mercifully gone to his thighs and arse. The seasonal succession of training had really done a number on his form, both in and off of the pitch, but if there was one upside to today it was that continuing intense pre-season practise sessions like this one would hopefully put him back on track to recovering his former level of fitness.
Clouds… silver linings… he would be surprised if there was enough silver to line every cloud he’d seen today, but fuck if a hot shower wouldn’t soothe his aching muscles and just generally improve the outlook of the evening. He gingerly turned the shower on to maximum, trying not to get mud from his hands all over the knob and withdrawing his arm at the touch of the initially freezing stream. He waited patiently for the hot water to run through, relieved once it started to warm that his teammates hadn’t used up all of it.
Once it was warm enough, he took a deep breath and stepped under. Ah, now that felt good.
After cleaning the mud off of his hands and out of his hair, the blond began to slowly work his hands over his body, feeling the water flow over his skin and relax the tensions in his muscles beneath, the warmth easing his stress and aching. He had desperately needed this. Speaking of which, there was another thing that he desperately needed. His hands travelled down his sides to his hips and then, after gently caressing his firm cheeks, made a beeline straight for his junk, across the stubble of his shaved pubes and happy trail.
Andrew had been needing release since he’d gotten out of work, but he’d had had neither the time, nor the privacy to actually pursue this goal. Now though, now the heat was waking him up and his cock was beginning to chub up before his hand even got there. It helped immensely that he was in the very place where he knew several very attractive, but lamentably straight, men had likewise stripped and washed. Yes, this would be quite easy. At least his hands were clean now, this was another knob that he didn’t want to get mud all over.
He put his head under the water, letting it run down his back, and watched as he played with his dick and balls, fully rolling his foreskin back to unveil the entirety of the velvety, purple head. Shuddering at the combined sensation of the warmth and the stimulation of his now very erect penis. His cock wasn’t anything particularly impressive, with just about average length, but he’d never had any complaints about that. Girth was definitely not his strong point. It wasn’t like he had a pencil dick, but it wasn’t exactly a struggle to fit into tight holes. His balls, however, he had had complements about. They were about the size of the average chicken egg, quite impressive hanging underneath his otherwise unnoteworthy dick.
Andrew let out a low, guttural groan as he stroked himself. One hand grasped at the base of his dick, squeezing it and the other working its way up and down the shaft, letting the water ease its motion. Man, if he kept this up he was going to cum way too quickly. He was already leaking pre, mixing with the water and dripping from the tip of his cock as he pushed himself further and further towards orgasm. He humped into his hand unconsciously, his movements slowing as he steadily, but surely, edged towards climax.
His balls felt tight and full in their sack, drawing up to his body despite the warmth of the shower, his arsehole twitching reflexively as he neared the point of no return.
Then he stopped. Breath ragged in his throat, suppressing a whine at the desire to cum.
This was a golden opportunity, a semi-public wank. He should enjoy this properly, not just rush to the end and the inevitable regret that would follow.
Leaving his aching cock alone, he returned to washing the remains of the mud and sweat off of his body. Despite his best efforts, his dick was crying out to be touched and he found himself unable to resist, returning to idly rub his length every couple of seconds and caress his big, full balls. Yeah, he’d not cum in a couple of days, so this was going to be a big load regardless.
Consciously making an effort to not bring himself to the point, he turned off the shower, hoping the relatively cold air of the shower room would disincline him to immediately go back to stroking his cock. The blond stood there, dripping wet, water slowly draining away around his feet. With a throbbing, demanding erection jutting out from his crotch.
He shook his head vigorously, droplets of water flying everywhere as his body shook and his cock waggling between his legs, balls slapping high up between his thighs. This… wasn’t going to work, and now he was just going to be cold. Still, he couldn’t stay under the water forever. Andrew wiped his eyes and walked back out into the changing room, happy to see that he was still alone and that his clothes were still there.
Just as suspected, the tiles were cold to the touch and the change in temperature in the air served to only heighten the sensitivity of his skin. He near tiptoed across the cold floor and took stock of his clothes. He didn’t have a towel, he didn’t have clean clothes here, his shirt was muddy and wet… and he had an insistent, raging boner. Looked like he would definitely have to deal with this before going anywhere, but he figured that he could walk shirtless to the car with no real adverse consequences. He could still see the remnants of light through the boarded windows, though it was failing quickly on this early spring night, but the cover of darkness would help in his endeavour, at least.
Andrew smiled to himself as he stood in the centre of the changing room, slowly, sensually working his hands over his cock, one hand reaching up to caress a nipple, made erect by the cold. This was ridiculous, but exciting. He was directly opposite the door, so if anyone were to walk in right now he’d be busted so quickly he wouldn’t even be able to get a word in edgeways. In all likelihood though, he might even just nut right then and there if that happened. The blond let out a chuckle at the thought, though it turned into a groan as his dick dribbled out a particularly large globule of precum. Fuck, there was nothing about this that he wasn’t enjoying. He might even have to do this again some time.
He closed his eyes, head tilting backwards as his hips bucked. The cold on his skin was making it burn and his prick was throbbing and so hard, his balls felt so backed-up and full. He needed to cream, but he didn’t want this to be over. He couldn’t bring himself to stop though, when it felt as good as this, he could never bring his actions to a halt. He’d been caught jerking it a number of times because he couldn’t just quit jerking it once he had gotten horny enough, but the embarrassment only lasted so long, and he could never get enough of the pleasure.
When he opened his eyes, however, his attention was drawn from his needy package and towards the door… and something unfamiliar. He definitely hadn’t noticed it before, and he had been sitting right beside it earlier, though he could likely chalk it up to his exhaustion. Resting against what was left of the left-side wall, hidden by the door when it was open, just like the key-hook above, was… a baseball bat? An old one, by the looks of it. Wooden and worn, but nonetheless usable. Strange—his team didn’t play baseball. He didn’t even know of any baseball teams that used these grounds, and Andrew thought it rather too long to be used by the local rounders team, even though the two games shared a common origin.
Curious as to how he hadn’t seen it before, or even how it got there, he strode over towards it, the cold on his bare feet no longer bothering him, his erection bouncing with his steps, temporarily forgotten… but never completely ignored. He grasped the wooden shaft and picked it up, examining it. The bat was smooth, sanded down perfectly, even though it was obviously well-used. And it certainly wasn’t new, in fact… it looked ancient, far older than this 60s-era ‘building’. The thing looked like it belonged in a museum. He turned it around, feeling the wood in his hands, and looked at the crudely carved inscription along the grip.
“The Yardstick?” he read aloud, squinting in the dim light of the corner. He turned and moved a little more into the light of the room. A funny name for a baseball bat. He wasn’t exactly au fait with imperial measurements, or baseball for that matter, but he was fairly sure that this was a little longer than a yard. That was, what? Three feet, right? So, just under a metre… and this looked to be longer than that. Why would somebody call an object a ‘Yardstick’ if it was longer than a yard? Was someone erroneously using it as one? He figured that they should’ve been using it to play baseball. He took a test swing with it, cringing when he narrowly missed the light that hung down just above him. Seemed like it was of decent quality. He grabbed both ends and applied some pressure, despite its advanced age it was clearly pretty sturdy too. He just couldn’t get past the name. He wouldn’t be surprised if bats like this could be a yard long, but this one definitely wasn’t.
“The Yardstick… the Yardstick,” he repeated, mildly amused. Looking down at the words on the grip, he caught sight of his dick again, and the urges that he had been unconsciously repressing came back to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance. With one hand he reached down, shaking his rock-solid hard-on from the base and wondered, still holding the bat with the other hand, how he compared. He knew he wasn’t exactly ‘big’, but he was compelled to compare. It was like those guys on the internet who would post pictures of their huge dicks next to everyday objects for comparison. He’d been conditioned over the years, he couldn’t help it. He was horny and needed to compare. He placed the bat alongside his rigid cock, side by side… and that was when things started to get strange.
Grasping hold of his cock and moving the bat into position, he pressed them together, too horny now to worry about how old it was where it had been, or indeed how many others could have potentially done this before him. If anything, the fact that it would be used by others, for its intended purpose or otherwise, just turned him on even more.
His cock was just about as thick as the handle and reached up to meet the ‘I’ of the inscription, just over 6” from the end, which was pressing into him between his dick and balls. Andrew smirked, at least his own wood reached up past the end of the inscription, some men wouldn’t be able to even do that. Though he couldn’t help but wish that he could obscure the words entirely with cock. Satisfied with the quick comparison, he moved the bat away, turning to sit on a bench in the middle of the room, finally returning to stroking and caressing himself… the Yardstick lying idle by his side on the bench.
That, was when he felt it.
He felt… good. His cock… felt good. Really good, and oh so hard. He closed his eyes and leant back, collapsing onto his back on the bench, knocking the bat to the floor. He didn’t care, the pleasure that he was generating was so incredibly intense that he couldn’t care, he couldn’t stop. All he could do was groan and grope himself, squeezing and kneading his dick, his legs straightening painfully as he humped up off of the wooden bench, the individual slats pushing into the back, sure to leave red marks on his skin. Fuck, his balls felt big and bloated, bouncing on his thighs as his body jerked violently in pleasure. He was working his manhood harder and more vigorously than he ever had before, and he was being reward in kind. His strokes were longer, his hands squeezing tighter and his cock getting ever-more erect. However, as suddenly as it had come on, the heightened pleasure and sensitivity diminished. It still felt good… great even, but he seemed to have lost an edge to his pleasure making.
The blond opened his eyes to watch himself fuck up into his grip, desperately trying to get back the intense feeling of pleasure, and the sight invariably going to turn him on even more and drive him closer to the edge that was actually managing to elude him. The moment his gaze fell upon his sex, however, his eyes grew wide and mouth fell open at the sight, a low whimper escaping him. His heavily engorged penis had gone a dark, lustful shade of purple… the head exposed, huge and swollen, it looked irresistible. But what had really surprised, him… made him stroke harder and groan louder, was that he was definitely, undeniably bigger.
Whereas before he would struggle to get both hands onto his shaft at the same time, now it was simple. He had gotten huge. He had no idea what had happened, but he was enjoying it immensely. His balls too looked as if they had swollen larger, grown well beyond the size of chicken eggs and looking more like apples… and not small apples either.
He needed to cum, but now he wanted to know how big he was and that feeling was actually outweighing his more primal urges. Liberating one hand from his swollen, precum slick dick, he fumbled around on the floor for the bat, never once taking his eyes off of his engorged prick. He was enraptured with the way it looked to jerk off a dick that was far too big for one hand to work it properly.
Eventually his grip found the bat and he brought it to the side of his dick, then manoeuvred it to compare just as he had before. Pressing his own wood to the wood of the bat, he saw just how large he had become, though an accurate measure managed to allude him at first, as he couldn’t help but grind his cock against the smooth surface of the bat. He could no longer see the bat behind his dick, the girth having increased significantly, but proportionately to match his newfound length. He gasped out a groan, his dick now nearly fully covered the ‘Y’ of the inscription, he’d grown so much! He was about one and a half times the size he used to be. He continued rubbing his dick against the bat, eager for more pleasure… but the hand holding the bat had been absent from his manhood for too long, and it was significantly less than a minute before he just dropped the wooden object and returned his full attention to his swollen junk. He had, somehow, gotten so… so, big.
Fucking hell, he didn’t know what had caused this, but he was verging on 9… maybe even 10 inches long… at this moment, he officially had a big cock. He fervently hoped that this was not an illusion, or a delusion from his otherwise tired brain… because he was going to measure this beast when he got home, and he hoped against hope that it broke that double-digit boundary… that he was officially huge.
If his pleasure hungry body would let him, he would stop this wank-session here and now, so that he could get home. There would be plenty of time to explore and enjoy this development later. But he couldn’t. The pleasure he had felt earlier was tormenting him, he wanted it back… he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cum without it… and he’d do anything to experience it again. Well, nearly anything.
Merely moments after those thoughts had vanished from his mind, he felt a tell-tale sensation beginning to build in his junk. Oh, fuck… it was back… with a vengeance. This was going to be so good, and he wasn’t going to waste this chance. In one swift and elegant motion he repositioned, using force from his legs to pull him up off of his back and over into a kneeling position, his hands positioned on and squeezing his cock, his butt off of the cold bench, cheeks spread by the position and anus twitching. His balls languished heavily on the cold wood, full and needy. He began to hump into his hands, his dick angrily demanding more touch as the feeling within built up more and more, the sensitivity of the organ beginning to increase steadily, just like before. He wanted to touch, caress and stroke every square centimetre of his big dick’s surface, but he simply didn’t have enough hands to rub it all at once. He rolled his hips as the pleasure built, the sensitivity of his sack increasing, giving him short bursts of ecstasy as they were pulled up off of the bench and then dropped back to the surface, smacking with enough force to send shivers through his body and a loud slap reverberating through the air.
“F-ffuckk!” Andrew practically shouted as the electric sensation building in his dick and balls, reached and surpassed the height that it had reached before… this was incredible. Even looking straight at his junk, his brain was so awash with pleasure that he couldn’t fully process any information beyond the physical stimulation he was getting from his genitals. He didn’t react, therefore, as his strokes once more grew longer… as his hands were forced wider, and the weight of his balls began to increase.
Andrew’s sack grew tight as its contents slowly, but steadily expanded, his balls practically fighting each other for space between his thighs, their slapping against the bench getting louder, and feeling better with every passing moment. His cock swelled definitively beyond the 10” mark, the girth increasing… forcing him to squeeze tighter and tighter, as one hand became increasingly inefficient at encircling the entire circumference of his burgeoning erection.
Andrew began to pant, this was far more exertion than his body was expecting to do after showering, particularly given the strenuous exercise he’d finished undertaking less than an hour earlier. His heart was pounding, in his chest, throat and in his cock. He could feel the pulsing in his manhood, pumping him up bigger… harder. The veins on his dick swelled, the head engorging beyond anything he could have imagined. But, he still couldn’t comprehend. Too unimaginably horny, in his pleasure addled state to think.
“No!” he spat, a blunt emotional statement, a growled command, as he felt the sensitivity of his flesh begin to diminish once more. The excessive pleasure was fading, not disappearing completely… but it was unsatisfactorily diminished… just like earlier. He let out an angry, guttural snarl… moving to beat his dick against the bench, forcibly… hoping in vain to bring back the pleasure again. He placed both hands on the upper side of his dick and pushed it against one of the bench slats, squishing it down, and humping against the surface… the wood slippery with precum. Hell, everything was slick with his fluids now, his torso, the bench around him and most certainly his huge, fat dick.
It took a minute of this before he calmed down enough to take stock of just what had happened… but when he did, the shock actually stopped his self-pleasuring ministrations. He shifted onto his rear, eyes wide and watering from the pleasure… face red and heart still racing. The blond’s cock was sticking out more than a foot from his crotch, and indeed the bench too. He could still barely process the changes that had occurred, even knowing that he had grown earlier. He put a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, the other reaching down to feel the size and weight of his now monster cock. He needed to convince himself that what he was seeing was actually attached to him. Reaching past his wide, thick cock he attempted to cup his balls… but could only palm one at a time. They hung low in his sack, dangling heavily over the edge of the bench, each equivalent in size to a cantaloupe, forcing him to adjust his sitting position from what he was used to.
“I—” Andrew stuttered, moving his arms to support himself on the bench, watching his cock as it bobbled from the movement, sagging under its own weight, and not softening even a bit. “I’m… big,” he choked out, an understatement to the casual observer, “I’m. Fucking. Huge!” he hissed, clarifying his new and enormous size to himself, punctuating each word in his arousal. He had never been so horny, and he didn’t need three guesses to figure out why.
How… how big was he now? He almost couldn’t bring himself to consider… he almost didn’t want to know. Almost. Slowly… tentatively, he brought his arm back down until it was level with his cock. It was as thick as his wrist, thicker in places… the head pulsing an angry shade of purple. He lifted it up, and grasped around the base with both hands, squeezing and slowly sliding them up to the head. The pressure he was applying, and the motion, caused a large dollop of thick, clear precum to emerge from his cock-slit, the young man watching in silence as the blob grew and grew, as he got closer and closer to the top, until it finally spilled over and ran lazily down the underside of his shaft, dribbling onto his sac, then onto the ground. Even after he stopped squeezing and pulled his cock to his chest, the flow didn’t end… his dick seemingly endlessly drooling pre. Fuck. It was clear that his abundant package was more productive than ever.
Andrew bent his neck down, towards the cock reaching up his chest, and inhaled his scent. He closed his eyes and held the breath in for a moment, before letting loose a lusty groan. He couldn’t help it… he couldn’t resist touching it. Once more, he began to stroke his dick… but slowly this time, sensually. He watched from above, looking down at the way his hands squeezed and kneaded his shaft, and the way it made the head rhythmically swell and pulse, a new reserve of precum pooling around his slit with each upwards stroke. The blond’s new monster dick was so thick that he could barely encircle it with a single hand and flat to his chest it reached up past his nipples, on a mission towards his chin.
“At this size…” he mumbled in arousal, “… I could…” The end of the sentence never came, but his train of thought was clear and singular. As precum pooled around his slit, he reached out with his tongue and licked it up, slowly… gently. But, when the next formed, he was not so tentative. Within minutes he was slurping greedily at his own cockhead. Licking and caressing his glands and sensitive rim with his tongue, while his hands pumped the shaft, and thighs squeezed his balls. He wanted this pleasure badly. He was hungry for it… and it felt so good to, at least partially, sate his ravenous desires.
Where he was, forgotten. His clothes, abandoned and ignored. His plans for the evening, a distant recollection. All that mattered was giving pleasure to his now enormous manhood. In the back of his mind, he realised that this was impossible. That this was probably too big. That he should stop… and maybe even seek help. But, all he could think about was cumming. He needed it. And he still wasn’t even close.
That feeling, the stimulation-heightening sensation that burned like fire in his nerves and made his skin feel electric. He needed more of that, but he wasn’t sure where it had come from. His eyes were open, but unseeing, glazed over as he sought to pleasure himself. But, no matter how much he sucked and slurped, how hard or violently he stroked himself… he couldn’t bring that feeling back.
His lust addled mind was preventing him from making the connections, coming to a realisation. But, then he saw it. Saw it properly. The only thing in his vision that wasn’t cock or clouded by lust. It was obvious now. Laying on the floor near his feet where he had carelessly dropped it, was ‘The Yardstick’.
It couldn’t, could it? He detached his mouth from his cockhead, rubbing his neck where it had been bent awkwardly to reach his dick, a strand of mixed saliva and diluted precum connecting the two together still, until he reached down to retrieve the old Baseball bat from where it rested. Shakily he lifted it until it was level with his dick, noting that his fat cock now extended well past the end of the handle. Hell, it looked like he’d gained over half of his previous length again. Weary of the potential consequences, but with curiosity outweighing his fear, he briefly touched the bat to his boner.
The rock-solid flesh was in contact with the wood of the bat for merely a few seconds, no more than five or six, before he pulled it away. He waited, and sure enough he felt the tingling in his crotch again, extending up the length of his shaft and perforating into his balls, an electric sensation that filled him with dread and excitement. Yes, this is what he had been looking for… what he wanted.
Seconds later, he exhaled shakily, his dick lurching forward about an inch, the veins swelling and pulsing, his nads below growing outwards and perceptibly gaining weight. Before he had the time to enjoy the feeling once more, it was over… evidently tied to the expansion of his genitals.
Tempted, and curious, he touched the bat to his pendulous balls, for slightly longer this time. When it was removed the feeling reappeared, and his junk swelled even more in turn, the growth resuming briefly.
So, now he knew what it was. He couldn’t deny, he wanted to feel that sensation again, badly, but should he? The Blond stood up and took a step away from the bench, feeling the weight hanging from his crotch. He looked down and admired his body briefly. The contrast between his torso and junk was notable to say the least, especially compared to how he had been equipped just 20-30 minutes earlier. A smooth, average chest leading onto a barely noticeable, but still present, belly… all of which was currently coated in precum. Then, hanging heavily from his groin and straining under its own weight was a monstrous, fat and yet painfully erect donkey dick, nearly a foot and a half in length. Below that was a set of balls, achingly full of sperm, that could easily rival a large cantaloupe, hanging down until they were almost at his knees. What was left of the rational part of his mind recognised that he really couldn’t afford to get any bigger. His arousal, on the other hand, was providing him with other, more sexually gratifying, ideas. Indeed, the only thing on his horny mind, right now, was seeing what his monster package looked like stuffed into his tight sporty underwear…
Andrew casually strode back into the bathroom, leaving the bat on the bench, and enjoying the tug on his crotch from his huge cock and balls. Every time he took a step the motion jostled his junk, making his dick sway about substantially, even going as far as slapping into the doorframe as he passed through. The impact didn’t faze him though, it just turned him on even more.
Despite how much he enjoyed the added heft, the blond’s balls were so imposing and space-filling that he had to move carefully to avoid catching them in between his legs in a painful fashion. It was an unreal experience, and some part of him still couldn’t believe that it was really happening.
He found his relatively dry boxer briefs a few feet from the showerhead that he’d used earlier, not that it mattered if they were wet or not, his crotch and legs were coated in his own precum anyway, plus he’d just left a trail of the stuff behind him as he walked. His cock still faithfully dripping away as it awaited further touching, more stimulation. He still hadn’t softened up even slightly.
Examining how stretchy the briefs were, he draped them over his oversized cock and walked back out the door and towards the mirror. It was incredible sight to behold, watching himself walk up closer and closer, his fat balls bouncing with his stride and slapping his thighs, his cock swaying jerkily. The contrast of his otherwise average body, but with this monolith of manhood… this pinnacle of penis attached to it… it was staggeringly hot. The view served to do nothing more than arouse him even more, especially with his relatively small boxer briefs draped over the precum slick shaft.
Andrew couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed the briefs, his dick bouncing as the weight was lifted off of his shaft and began the now awkward trial that was putting them on. Just getting his feet into them proved far more troublesome than he had expected, thanks largely to his expansive sack and the plus-sized testicles held within. At first, he had just let them hang between his legs, his stance wider than usual for it, and crouched slightly to put them on. He had enjoyed the feeling of having his balls swinging freely, but successfully getting one foot safely ensconced into the fabric of the briefs was no guarantee of total victory. Indeed, getting the other foot in whilst avoiding crushing his free-hanging nads was difficult. Ultimately, he’d ended up repositioning them, holding them and his huge cock against his chest with one hand, and used his remaining free hand to try and pull them on and up, without letting his tumultuous testicles getting in the way. Next time, he’d have to just do this sitting down.
Even once he had finally gotten them pulled up to his thighs, fitting his balls into the tight fabric was a struggle. To begin with, he had stayed himself for a second, admiring the way his junk looked, his balls resting imposingly in front of his briefs, the tight fabric holding them out from his body like they were on display, his cock hanging heavily over them. He began to stroke himself idly, watching himself in the mirror as he reached for the head of his shaft and pulled his foreskin down to fully reveal the head, moving them to subtly caress up and down the shaft. Eventually, he snapped out of the trance, he had gone to the trouble of putting these on for a reason, after all. With one hand, he roughly grasped the waistband and pulled it outwards as far as it could stretch, straining to get it out far enough as he used the other to try and stuff his bloated balls into the tightness of the fabric. It was a significant endeavour given what a big boy he’d very recently become, but he eventually managed it, the waistband, almost flat against his stomach… barring where his fat, wrist-thick cock stuck obnoxiously outwards and upwards towards his face, looking him in the eye.
The blond had thought that fitting his balls in was an unnecessary exertion at worst, and a nuisance at best. His dick, by comparison, was damn near impossible to cram into the fabric… at least without painfully bending it to get below the waistband. Still, with a great deal of effort he managed it.
He stood there and stared. From directly head-on, nobody would necessarily suspect a thing, well… if he was flaccid they wouldn’t. The dark colouration of the undergarment mostly masked the enormity of the bulge caused by his balls, the one that was obliquely obvious from above. But, if he just turned his body slightly, the sheer size of what was being smuggled within the fabric prison became very apparent. That was not to mention that the stretching of the fabric over his bulge was so significant that the waistband felt like it was cutting into his butt, and it didn’t even touch against his front at all! Fitting his cock in there assured that there wouldn’t be enough stretch in the material to force the waistband tight to his body, looking down his cock was very obviously exposed.
Aside from being open to the air, the rigid flesh-tube was fighting the fabric to keep its shape. The briefs wanted it to curve around his waist, given that it stuck far out to the side of his body at this point, but the indomitable prick had other ideas. No matter the strain that the overfilled briefs put on it, it stayed straight and true, jutting out obscenely to the left. Yes, that was certainly visible from the front.
“Fuck!” The blond growled lustily, “I’m so fucking huge!” He flexed and struck a pose, flaunting his bulging briefs. He waggled his hips from side-to-side, watching in the mirror as his bulge wobbled and pulsed with arousal. It looked so good, so hot. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He grasped hold of his balls through the fabric with both hands and groped them, one hand moving to his straining cock as he sensually felt himself up, groaning all the while. It was incredible, and he couldn’t stand it. He needed to jerk it. He needed to cum.
“So full… gotta free up some room,” He muttered, pulling the waistband further forward and letting his monster cock fling itself out. He released a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in, pleasure soaring through him as the beast was freed from its confines and flopped back out into the cool air. As his dick sprung away from his body and back towards the front, swinging back and forth violently before it settled into position, it slung an impressive gout of precum at the mirror, which impacted and trickled down the surface messily. He was in awe of his enormous rigid boner, he grasped it firmly with both hands and began to squeeze and choke it, his balls still trapped in tight fabric. He was so horny, so incredibly randy that he could barely think straight. Whilst watching himself in the mirror, he moved his hands down and took hold of his bulge once more, “My balls… so fucking huge… so productive… so much fucking cum…” He massaged his swollen nuts, then shifted his grasp to pull his fat donkey dick back up to his mouth. With his mouth desperately bathing his cockhead and both hands working up and down his long shaft, he groaned in primal lust and dropped to his knees.
Andrew looked back up into the mirror as he used his fingers and tongue to work the precum out of his cock and into his throat, savouring the taste. It wasn’t an easy position to maintain, but he couldn’t bear to take his eyes from the image of himself. The man sitting before him in the mirror was almost unrecognisable, it was a lustful reflection, the man’s muscles working hard to pleasure his swollen, oversized monster cock. He was covered in sweat, it beaded on his flushed face and average chest, rolled down his smoothly shaven skin and mixed with the copious precum that seemed to coat his entire lower half. Andrew wanted to watch the shameless wanker work his prick, but he couldn’t. His neck was already beginning to ache, the echo his earlier attempt at self-sucking. If only… If only his cock were even… bigger.
The sudden thought careened back into his mind with the force and subtlety of a freight train without breaks, it summoned images and memories from earlier. His dick, the Yardstick… the feelings of intense pleasure, beyond his most adventurous imaginings. A pleasure that he had pushed aside with desire for conventional stimulation, but which he would never forget… could never forget. He felt a deep and boundless yearning for it, the Yardstick was calling to him. Whispering to him that he should give in to his desires. He wanted to… and he would.
With one last fleeting glance at the mirror, he broke eye contact with himself and released his cock from his mouth. The beast swung down with a velocity that, in his crouched position, had its sensitive head crash solidly with the tiled floor. The slap reverberated, but before the echo had finished he was on his feet, his mind one track and vision tunnelled once more. In his standing position, the waistband was able to tightly hold his cock upright, the warm organ beating against his chest with every step, reaching up just past his nipples.
He sought out the bat, the wooden relic sitting where he had left it. He hadn’t realised the state that he had left it in, nor where he had unconsciously placed it. It lay unceremoniously on the bench he had sat on before, in a puddle of clear, liquid precum. It didn’t matter though, because with it in his hands once more it was sure to get even more sticky, slick with his delicious pre-seed.
Without hesitation, he brought the wooden equipment into contact with his own, pressing the bat firmly against his overgrown testicles. Enjoying the feeling of the smooth wood applying pressure to them through the fabric. He counted to 5… not wanting to wait too long, but for long enough to get some effect. Then he withdrew the bat once more. His balls, still captured in his briefs, sagged down between his legs without the external force to hold them up, forcing him to further widen his stance. They felt more bloated than ever and in severe need of emptying, but as he idled away the minutes, watching his bulge, it became clear that the endeavour had proven fruitless.
“W-what?! Why didn’t it work!” Andrew spluttered, scowling. His face contorted into rage briefly, before resolving to try again. Pulling away his waistband, he dug the business end of the bat into the underwear, working it deep and burying it between his balls. This time he didn’t wait, or count… or dare to think about what would happen next if it worked or not. He just held it there, squashed between his balls, desiring pleasure more than life itself. He was just so horny, and he was so not ready to cum yet.
It was at that point that he could have stopped. He knew. Somewhere deep down. He could have put the Yardstick down and walked away. He understood that this was arguably the worse option to take in the situation. But the voice of reason in the back of his mind was quiet, and his arousal was loud. Rationality and calm decision making were a firm relic of the past now, as far removed from his current state as the wooden bat in his hand was ancient. Arousal did nothing to support his ability to make the right choice. If anything, it compelled him to take the option that he would almost certainly regret later.
When he pulled the precum slick baseball back free… his world was changed, permanently.
Andrew shuddered, the sensations of renewed growth hitting him immediately, a buzzing in his balls and electricity coursing through his cock like it was a lightning rod that had just been struck. He stared lustily down at his already tight boxer briefs as they lurched outwards, the balls within suddenly expanding and then settling into a steadier rhythm of growth. His cock was not to be forgotten of course, how could he miss the python? It was obscuring the view of his balls pulling the fabric tighter and tighter as it grew upwards and towards his face, thickening and throbbing bigger and bigger. As his hard, painfully erect cock swelled upwards, its weight finally grew too much for the feeble waistband of his shorts to hold up and it dropped back down again, fattening and extending into the air… wobbling from side to side as the blood and growth surged through it.
The blond tried to take a step, his legs having to spread far wider than he was used to by the nuts expanding between his legs. He grasped the immense bulge and pulled it up to his pelvis, holding it in place as he walked back towards the mirror, feeling the weight of the oversized testes increasing with each passing second. By the time he reached the mirror, his cock would poke him in the chin if he lifted it up and his briefs were beyond full, they were straining. The material was audibly struggling to contain the sheer girth of his balls, he counted himself lucky that he’d been able to get back to the mirror soon enough to see them break free.
Sure enough, within seconds of returning to the precum stained reflection, his briefs finally gave out, tearing up the seams at the sides. The blond practically roared, screaming out his relief and lust, as his balls broke loose and dropped to hang like volleyballs between his legs. Still they grew, still the pleasure overwhelmingly intensified. He grasped his heavy, bloated shaft and kissed the over-sensitive head delicately, it was aligned perfectly with his mouth, but was by now so enormous that he didn’t think he could suck on it. The head was far bigger around than his fist, a shiny, taught and deep purple bell-end that couldn’t be contained by his mouth, or any man he knew of. He was so huge, he’d come so far.
The 23-year-old slurped greedily at his cockhead, desperate to bring more pleasure, his left hand grasping the shaft and hips thrusting, his right tightly gripping the baseball bat. His balls swung between his legs, reaching a size similar to basketballs by the time they had stopped swelling, slapping into his lower thighs and knees, the sheer momentum threatening to unbalance him with each sordid blow. The pleasure was dying again, and he couldn’t stand it. He still had the bat.
In desperation the poor, pent up male… denied orgasm despite the intense pleasure, did what any in his situation would do… he touched the bat to himself again. Not for long, a few seconds at most. A tentative, but thoughtless touch, intended to tease more than prevent disaster. However, the result sealed the deal and solidified his resolve. With the sensation renewed, ever so briefly, he gave in to the temptation that the bat offered him and slammed it against his dick, holding it taught to the flesh. He held the wood to his erection as he stroked, attempting to fit his hands around the monster, which had long since outgrown his grasp. It was thick, oh so thick. Fatter than the bat at its widest part, but it wasn’t as long… not yet. He couldn’t really get a good judgement for how it compared, he was jerking himself too frantically and fast, the bat moving against his rigid meat… it was clear that his monster reached at least halfway up the wood, maybe even two thirds of the way.
Whatever the case, his cock was over two-feet long and if the time he’d been holding it to himself was anything to go by, he’d definitely be outgrowing even the ‘Yard’ that the bat allegedly represented. He’d been holding it to his cock for over three minutes. If seconds grew him inches, this would grow him feet. He let go and dropped to his knees before the mirror once more, falling backwards onto his rear and spreading his legs wide as the sensation returned with more force than he could have ever thought possible, his hands desperately trying to hold on to his dick… feeling it pulse and grow. His eyes shuttered, flickering open and closed as his dick lurched and expanded, his balls swelled outwards. He caught only glimpses at first, with his eyes blinking rapidly and uncontrollably from the sheer, unrelenting stimulation. One second it would look like his dick was three feet long, then he’d close his eyes and open them again, some unknown seconds later, and now he was four feet long with balls creeping up to resemble average-sized watermelons. Time had lost all meaning in the face of this pleasure, comprehension of its passing escaping him… all he knew was ecstasy and size… still-growing size.
Andrew regained control of his senses when he felt an unusual coldness on the tip of his cock, becoming more accustomed to the sensations that had previously overwhelmed him completely. The blond forced his eyes open, desperate to take in the erotic sight that was sure to be before him, then gasped and moaned. His cock reached from his crotch to the mirror… the head pressed up against it. He didn’t have the time to react to this, as the sliding of his rear against the cold tiles signalled that his bout of growth was not done. His cock was still getting bigger and was pushing him backwards. His balls, rested either side of his shaft, each bloating bigger with every passing second, expanding to lie like oversized watermelons on the cold floor, his legs resting atop them to give them space. What really shocked him, however, was not that he was so absurdly huge that his cockhead could reach the mirror, over 4-feet and counting from where he sat, nor that the pleasure was already beginning to die down. What gave him cause for both alarm and celebration was that he was still clutching the bat in his hand, a hand that was cradled up against his dick, and had been since he dropped to the floor.
How long had he been touching it to his titanic junk? Did it matter to him? He really didn’t seem to care, all he could recognise was that the pleasure in his tackle was beginning to subside once more and that his balls were bigger, fuller and more hopelessly bloated than ever. With great effort, he pulled on his dick, attempting to stand the monolith of manhood upright. It reached past his head. It reached several feet past his head, he looked down to the bat, held to the base of his dick… yes, his own wood was now far, far bigger. His cock was very nearly as tall as he was, maybe less than a foot away from being longer than the rest of his body and wider around than even his torso… it had become a true monster… a beast of a dick.
Keeping his cock upright from such a position was a difficult task, so he scooted himself along the floor, as best as he was able, to prop the monster up against the mirror. Fuck him if it wasn’t almost taller than the full-body mirror. Now, he finally couldn’t help it any longer, he had to cum. He worked his newly massive cock with everything he had, his hands, his legs… he bear-hugged it to his chest and beat it against the wall, be ran the bat up and down its length with like a rolling pin and massaged and squeezed his balls with his feet. But it was fruitless.
Exhausted, but unrelentingly horny, Andrew collapsed back onto the tiles, the bat clattering to the ground as it fell from his grip and rolled to the side. He couldn’t do it… not by himself. His body lay shaking and flushed, covered in sweat and his breathing heavy. Tears formed in his eyes, his desire failing to be met by reality, an unusual as that would seem in this most peculiar situation. But other than the sounds of his body, silence reigned. There was nobody here to help him.
“Ffffffff-ucccckkkkkk!!” The blond bellowed gutturally and suddenly, his body jerked and twisted, his toes curling and arms folding in to his sides and chest. His cock and balls, imposing in their sheer magnitude and presence, jumped… violently. Together they burned, a sensation that made him shriek in a mixture of pain, then pleasure. His balls groaned and churned audibly, his cock creaked and grew more vascular as, predictably, a new wave of expansion hit him. The biggest yet.
This time, it did not immobilise him, in some ways the growth was expected, but unexpected and that element of surprise kicked Andrew into action. In one smooth motion, he rolled forwards onto his knees and hugged at his dick, the sensitivity so overwhelming that he couldn’t help but squeal embarrassingly. It was so sensitive that touching it almost hurt. But, he had to make the most of this, he had to cum this time.
His monstrous tackle, however, had other ideas. His dick pulsed and grew, expanding bigger and fatter so suddenly that he was knocked backwards onto his rump once again, the prick jettisoning an enormous gout of precum that spurted like a geyser to graze the roof and drop heavily onto his chest like mortar-fire. Again, and again he tried to catch hold of his monolithic prick, but each time the mighty oak of a cock brushed him aside, like a horse that didn’t want a rider. His balls too conspired against him, though they grew more steadily, expanding and filling faster than he could ever conceive. Now it was their turn to push him backwards and away from the wall.
Desperate and afraid that his cock would continue to deny him the ability to hold and stroke it in this most pleasurable of phases, Andrew flailed around wildly, slowly being pushed away from the wall, the mirror now nearly hidden from view by the massive girth of his rock-hard dick. In a state of panic, he grasped hold of the bat again and spotting the sensitive head growing beyond his reach he didn’t waste a second, or even stop to think. He brought the baseball bat down against his cum slit, impaling the wood deep into the head of his cock. The beast bucked again, like a dragon impaled upon a sword and he fell backwards, relishing the feeling of being full… the insides of his dick squeezing tightly around the invading sports equipment.
Within precum now unable to escape from his swollen balls and the head of his cock growing now beyond his reach and towards the ceiling, the blond realised his mistake. He had acted in a split second out of lust… and it would surely come back to bite him. But he just didn’t care. Unable to grasp and please himself with his arms, he settled for his legs, wrapping them as best as he could around his shaft and squeezing the base, hoping that it would cause the building pre-cum to release and expel the increasingly slick invader within his cock.
With every passing second, however, his prick grew bigger and fatter and the bat within slid deeper and deeper into his dick, the sheer size of the manhood causing the hilt of the bat to press against the ceiling and press ever further into the cock. Then it stopped. All of it. His dick grew no more, the head mere inches from the precum stained ceiling. His balls bloated no bigger, gurgling and quivering, the size of large beach balls propped up against the wall. The intense sensations of ecstasy faded, and he was left with just the dull throb of an over-engorged erection and a baseball bat in his dick. Andrew screamed. That was his best chance of cumming and it was gone, the despair he felt was unimaginable to an onlooker. What use was all of this, if he couldn’t even cum?
“No… no, no, no…” The young man whimpered breathlessly. He felt like he could die if he didn’t cum, his heart beat in his chest so vigorously that he thought it may explode from the effort. This couldn’t be how it ended. Shakily, and with arms and legs like jelly, he pulled himself along the ground and away from the wall. He, needed more room for what he was going to do, but moving wasn’t easy. The ceiling was at least eight-feet from the ground and his dick had nearly all of that covered, his balls were heavy and over-full with sperm. His man meat weighed more than he could have predicted, but still… slowly, but surely, he managed to move himself.
There was no clock in the room, no infernal ticking sound ringing in his ears, but still Andrew was excruciatingly conscious of the fact that he was racing against time. Every second was potentially another inch to his cock… which promised a bout of unbelievable ecstasy, but at the same time spelled increasing doom to the manhood-encumbered male. His package and body were now on the opposite side of the ‘greater than or equal to’—he was more cock and balls than man. Hell, his cock or balls alone were more than man. Did that make him the equivalent of three men? The baseline attention that his cock was commanding was nothing compared to the highs of arousal and pleasure he had experienced when he had grown last, he could almost hear the voice of rationality in the back of his mind now.
Regardless of what it made him, his mind had no time to idly contemplate the bigger questions of life, not when the biggest question in the room… practically an elephant in the room, was sitting right in front of him. Andrew had finally managed to shift his monstrous package into a position that worked for what he was about to attempt. Indeed, the 23-year old now sat astride his monolith of masculinity, almost like a banana boat, his feet thankfully still touching the floor, and his beach ball smuggling nut sack laying heavily on the floor behind him. With how much he weighed overall it was a miracle that the tiles had not already started to crack or splinter.
After a short rest, he put his plan into action, using his hips, legs and all of his weight and might to grind the underside of his cock against the tiled floor. He could only do it a small amount, but it was enough to bring him a small amount of pleasure. Once he had found a rhythm, he leant over his member and hugged it, humping against his dick as his dick ground against the precum slick floor. He looked up at the head, some five feet from his face and pointed now straight at the door. Precum was escaping his dick now, managing to ooze past the baseball bat and cause of his predicament, beyond his own lust, that was lodged into his cum slit. He wanted it out, almost more than he wanted to come… though he’d be damned if he couldn’t achieve both goals simultaneously. Though in truth he’d settle for either. Still, once the bat was free… then he would make for the door, as quickly as possible, before he got even bigger… too big for the door. He figured, at his current size, he could still fit, even his balls could if he lifted one atop of the other, it was a long shot, but he had to at least try.
For the most part, his plan was working well. The increased stimulation to his overgrown, battering ram of a penis was definitely causing a surge in the production of precum, he could feel himself getting closer towards an orgasm, but it was still a distant shadow on the horizon. Still, his balls rumbled, and his dick leaked, which is largely the result he was seeking, but at the same time… this wasn’t going to be enough. Too much precum was making it past the makeshift wooden sound embedded into his eight-foot phallus… this way it wouldn’t build up to the requisite amount of pressure to enable him to force it free. No, he would have to do something drastic, and likely counter-intuitive. It wasn’t at all that he wanted to push the bat down deeper, that was just a slanderous lie that his arousal was telling.
With great difficulty, he raised the long and heavy prick up like a telephone pole… preparing to semi-literally toss the caber. Then, using the remaining strength of his exhausted muscles, he used his legs and hips, upper body resting against his enormous balls for leverage, to push the tip of his cockhead flush to the ceiling. Slowly, teasingly, his shaft swallowed what had been left exposed of the baseball bat and within seconds he began to feel the pressure building within his shaft. He frantically moved his arms up and down the small part of his dick that he could reach. The pressure, the tightness within his dick and balls and the movements of his comparably tiny arms… they were… they were actually driving him closer and closer to the point of no return. He was almost there! The closest he had come to release in almost an hour.
Then, something gave… and he collapsed. Andrew wasn’t sure what had gone second, whether it had been his legs, or his arms… but he knew what came first and, regrettably, it wasn’t him.
It had all happened seemingly within an instant. One second, he was jerking his dick, the pressure within excruciatingly good, then the pressure was gone and so too was the bat… his dick falling forward like a felled tree, to slam into the ground with such force that it rattled the benches and caused dust to fall from the ceiling. Andrew lay on top of his dick, panting… groaning, the point of orgasm slowly disappearing back into the haze of his mind… he had been so, so close.
Andrew had no time to mourn for his orgasm, though. He bolted upright and whirled around to the left, then the right. Looking for signs of the aged baseball bat, the very thing that had caused him to grow and that he had, semi-accidentally, lodged into his slit in a fit of lust. But it was nowhere to be seen. Then it hit him. A large, clump of precum fell onto his head from above and he looked up to see the extent of the damage he’d done to the roof… he sure as hell hoped that it wasn’t made of asbestos. What he saw though, almost made him laugh wildly… almost, for at the same time he was hit with the tell-tale tingle that signalled growth, in about a second, he was going to be hit by a wall of ecstasy so great that he wouldn’t be able to…
Mid-thought, and as he attempted to gain purchase on the ground to escape to the door, the first pulsing wave of growth hit him, and it was far more pleasurable and significant than he could have reasonably expected. The bat had been in him too long… and now he would never escape. Even if the initial burst of pleasure hadn’t incapacitated him once more, Andrew would never have made it to the door in time. His testicles ballooned behind him, burgeoning in size and beginning to crack the tiles under their weight and the weight of the copious seed within them, stretching his sack tighter than he had ever felt as it almost failed to keep up with their excessive expansion. They ached and groaned and grew out in every direction, in his lusty, ecstasy-addled state he could only look back and see them crush against the back wall of the changing room, making it shudder. Then, in response, his body was pushed forwards, towards the door.
His stiff cock was rapidly growing uncontrollably, throbbing and bloating as it engorged longer at fatter. The head smashed against the door with one violent burst of growth and smashed it clean off of its hinges, taking much of the frame with it. The cool air of the changing room met with the cold air of the night, mercifully the dark would hide his growing shame, but someone must have heard that. Still, his titanic dick was unrelenting in its surge forwards and Andrew could do nothing but sit on top in a daze and wait for the pleasure and stimulation to stop. The sensitivity was too great for him, his brain couldn’t handle the input, every movement he made, every air current that caressed his thickening shaft and swollen cockhead burned into his mind and made his eyes water. The feeling of the friction from his dick growing along the ground and ploughing a furrow into the waterlogged field beyond the changing rooms was as excruciating as it was foreign to him, but had he been asked he wouldn’t have given it up for the world. His senses were on fire and his junk was the catalyst that had set them alight.
As the growth spurt tapered to a close, Andrew groaned in pain. His manhood, so long and fat now, had also grown so wide that it had wedged itself in the ruin of the doorframe, so firmly and fully that it couldn’t fit through any further. The dying act of his testes’ enormous expansion was to push him further forwards, into a hole through which his cock would no longer fit, and which was getting increasingly tight as the seconds past. The reinforced concrete of the walls dug into the sides of his dick, over three feet across, and caused his foreskin to pull back even further from the underside of the head, exposing every square inch of his sensitive skin to the night air.
With the trailing off of the growth, the blond regained some of his faculties, soon enough to hear the creaking of the wall behind him that separated the showers from the changing room. He could hear it, but he almost couldn’t see it. His balls were pressed up against it so forcefully that the weak wall was almost completely out of sight… but that didn’t matter for long. With an overwhelming groan and crash the wall fell away from him and his sack slammed down fully against the floor, resting like two small cars parked in the ruins of the interior. He had been so lost in pleasure that he hadn’t seen or heard the benches and racks being wrenched from their places and pushed roughly out of the way of his expanding cum factories… and that is absolutely what they were now, they were two, giant sperm making machines.
His appreciation of the immense size of his cock, then his balls, was cut short by a hard, wet slap against the upper surface of his sack. Oh… oh no. It had amused him before, however briefly, that the force of the precum expulsion, just minutes earlier, had embedded the baseball bat into the plaster of the ceiling, dripping thick and slimy precum onto the, at the time, much smaller young man. The collapse of the wall and the tremor that had been caused as a result, however, had dislodged it. The ‘Yardstick’, the inappropriately named baseball bat, itself longer than a yard, and which had started this whole mess when he had attempted to compare his dick to it… was now laying lazily atop his colossal ball sack.
Andrew quietly, calmly, let his body flop forward to lay upon the surface of his leviathan prick. That hadn’t happened. He closed his eyes, exhausted, and not wanting to care. He was unconsciously panting, not from the exertion, but from the arousal he still couldn’t shake. He just lay there, listening to the thump of his heartbeat within the mass of his cock and to the sounds of his balls producing more and more sperm, pushing litre after litre of precum up and out of his shaft. That. Had. NOT. Just. Happened.
Andrew was spent. Physically and emotionally, if not exactly sexually. There was nothing, literally nothing, that he wanted more than to cum. Every part of him, every cell… every single fibre of his being wanted to cum, so that this whole thing could be over and so that he could wake up and discover it was a dream, or that he got knocked out on the pitch. Not that he now had a… what? 18-foot-long dick. He turned his head to lazily reconnoitre his balls, like fat sperm-filled tanks behind him. The baseball bat was well out of reach, or at least it would be difficult to get to. Dream or not, it wasn’t done with him yet.
For half-an-hour Andrew rested atop his cock, willing it to go down and trying in vain to forget the building pressure in his balls and in his veins. He couldn’t stop thinking about cumming, try as he might… nor could he forget about the thing sitting on his balls… about how it could bring him pleasure once more. It had been a long time since it first touched him—maybe this time the pleasure would be enough to get him off finally. At what price? How big would he get after 30 minutes of it resting atop his sack? He almost wanted to find out, and that made resisting the urge to try and grab it so much more difficult. He tried to think of all the things he would no longer be able to do with a dick and balls this huge, and how other people would react to his newfound size… all it did was make him wonder what their reactions would be if he were even bigger. Would fear turn to terror? Arousal become lust? Awe transform into worship? And… what if he didn’t remove it now… but removed it later? What would become of him then? How much would he grow then? How big could he possibly get?
That was the trail of thought that finally roused him. He told himself that if he didn’t remove it now, then it would just be even worse later. That was why he was doing this.
He spent several minutes trying to reposition himself between his cock and balls, until he was in a well-placed, yet uncomfortable, place from which to mount the expedition up his insurmountable testes… insurmountable chiefly because he was attached to them and weighed down by his dick… which was wedged into the doorway. Several more minutes passed as he attempted to scramble closer to where the bat lay… But it was no use, it was beyond his reach. Tired, horny, and fully sick of shit not going his way, he slammed his fist against the giant nut he was resting against and the bat lost purchase, sliding towards him slightly. Taking this as a sign that his luck was changing he smacked his balls again, watching with glee, and a certain amount of sexual excitement, as the bat slid within range and he snatched it up into his hand, taking care not to remove it fully from the surface of his sack.
Returning to a more comfortable position, Andrew traced the tip of the precum slick baseball bat along his skin, moving from his sack to his cock flesh, until he could reverently place the wooden sporting equipment down onto his shaft before him. This, was dangerous. He picked the still slick bat back up again. Was he really, truly sure that he wanted to do this? He had already come so far down this path, but surely it was not too late to turn ba—… oh, okay… or he could just drop it. His grasp had not quite been firm enough on the slippery surface of the wood. It was soaked in so much precum he would be unsurprised if it had seeped into even the heart of the material.
He watched as the bat fell from his hand, bounced on his shaft and then slid off of the side, clattering to the floor. Andrew’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickened, and his eyes went wide. Oh, what had he done? No answer was coming, and in the off chance that one did, Andrew would have not been able to comprehend. Andrew was gone. Lost in the world-ending pleasure that threatened to destroy his very consciousness. An ecstasy that promised to leave him forever little more than a husk of a man, with genitals so big that they, as far as he could comprehend, were beyond the imagining of any living person. And while he was lost in the recesses of his mind, being assaulted by pleasure and ecstasy, by stimulation beyond that which his mortal brain could comprehend, his manhood grew.
‘Grew’ is perhaps an understatement for what occurred to his cock and balls in those next few minutes, not nearly a strong enough word to explain the sheer force with which exploded outwards, escalating in size far more rapidly that he could ever have imagined possible. The word could not accurately convey the enormity of this surge of growth, nor depict in any meaningful way the magnitude and scale to which his already mammoth meat would expand. No… such a simple word could not describe it, and neither could Andrew. The blond could never be privy to what happened to him, he was not conscious to the world in any meaningful way, no manner by which he could know the exact sequence of events that unfolded because of his zealously swelling junk.
Regardless, his last recollection was the reinforced-concrete of the walls around his cock… weakened by the decades, giving way and crumbling, the metal framework within, rusted and frail, warped and retreated from the expansion of his erogenous flesh. His balls crashed into the showers with such force that his body, little by comparison to the rest of him, was forced forward through the doors. Behind him, as he lay twitching atop his swelling manhood, his balls swelled and groaned until they pushed flush against every surface, then with force beyond any he had ever seen, wrenched the small building apart, rending it asunder with their prodigious girth and burgeoning mass. His cock ploughed forwards still, towards the clubhouse and pavilion on the other side of the field. As his body rose atop his ever-fattening cock, he would have had a perfect view of the destruction he was about to bestow upon the unsuspecting structure.
His tumescent dick emerged from the muddy field, slick with pre-cum and barrelled through the small, side carpark pushing aside Andrew’s own little car and setting the alarm off, before smashing straight into the side of the building, caving in the wall entirely and belching such an alarming load of precum into the clubhouse that it flooded back out of the hole in the wall, and from under the doors.
The feeling of his balls compressed into the changing room, then explosively being freed by their continued growth, and of his cock charging head first across the field and into the clubhouse, was more stimulation than he could ever hope to achieve manually by himself. So, with his cock slowly smashing its way from one side of the clubhouse, his balls finally tightened, contracted and Andrew fully lost consciousness as he finally came.
Spunk shot along the blond’s nearly 50-foot shaft with such velocity that when it finally exploded from the head, in wave after torrential wave of semen, it clear blew a whole out of the other side of the building and short another 30 feet before crashing down into the next field on the other side. Again, and again his building breaking cock and balls released shot after shot, his cock emerging from the wreckage of the clubhouse proudly and spewing another few gallons of hot, sticky jizz onto the already waterlogged and cum-logged earth.
For a full fifteen minutes, with growth subsiding, Andrew’s junk brought devastation to the sportsground. Cum flooded every field knee deep, the few cars left overnight washed away in the initial backwash of the tsunami of spunk. The clubhouse was demolished by act of dick, the roof and upper floors torn away where the gargantuan cock had throbbed and bucked, distended from the amount of semen coursing through it and unwilling to be contained by merely bricks and mortar. The earth beneath his balls had sunk beneath their weight, leaving the 20-foot testes lodged heavily into a crater of their own making, the ruins of the changing room strewn across, around and beneath them.
Even as his erection finally began to subside, sated finally, and withdrew from the building it had thrust itself through, his junk was still beyond enormous and Andrew would be in awe and shock at the devastation come the morn. For now, though, his unconscious form lay curled up and undisturbed upon his tectonic manhood, allowing the heat of his genitals to warm him and the afterglow of his release make the troubles of the day fade to obscurity as he began to dream. His sleep undisturbed by the barely noticeable feeling of an antique wooden baseball bat pressed up against the underside of his ball sack.