The secret repository

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• Latest update: 7 September. Next update: 21 September. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest post: Saturday Flashback: Hot for Teacher.

• Latest from BRK: “Shadow and flame”, Part 5; “The box”, Part 8.

 

“Camera’s fritzing out,” Angelo said suddenly as they reached the thirteenth underground level of the abandoned bunker. He turned the high-end digital camcorder on Justin, but his seriously cute face on the screen was half-obscured in technological snow. Angelo checked the indicators and whistled. “Battery’s dying fast, too,” he said.

Justin gave the camera a quick frown. “Keep shooting,” he said. “Otherwise there’s no proof we did the whole dare.” Without waiting for Angelo to object he pulled open the fire door and disappeared into what the signs announced was Level C-M, Maximum Access Restriction. The door clanged rapidly shut behind him before Angelo could grab it, the latch snicking loudly in the silent stairwell, and Angelo’s heart thudded as he reached for the handle, imagining himself trapped and separated from Justin in this echoing hulk of an underground labyrinth for the tenth time that day. But their luck continued to hold and the door opened for him as it had for Justin. Despite the evidence of continued power to the emergency lights giving ghostly illumination to every corridor and empty room in this useless place, not to mention the air conditioning keeping the whole vast structure cool, ventilated, and smelling very faintly of cedar and sandalwood, for some reason the security locks were all dead as bricks. The two of them had an all-access pass to the creepiest place within a hundred miles. Angelo almost wished the locks would come on the next time they got to security door, just so they’d finally be stymied and have to go home.

Angelo shook his head. If he weren’t half consumed with the idea of one day planting a long, serious kiss on his strapping, adorable, forever best friend, so that just being around the long-limbed, scrumptiously fit track star made Angelo’s uncut sausage cock chub with delight and his heart pound hard just for his buddy, there was no way he’d find himself in stupid scrapes like this. Gritting his teeth, he passed through the door and hurried after Justin, anxiously watching the video image on his screen get worse with every step.

He turned a corner to find Justin stopped in front of a huge glass window, apparently stunned by what he saw. As Angelo approached he saw that the window looked out over a vast, brightly lit bay easily twice the size of a football field with white walls and a dark floor, though very little of the latter could be seen. The expanse was below them, but rose up to occupy their own level as well, like whatever it had been made for required serious room.

But what he saw down there wasn’t stealth fighter jets, or alien spacecraft, or any of the other unlikely secrets that people loved to whisper were hidden out here. He swallowed, feeling astonished, scared, and, he realized, completely aroused.

He aimed the camera at the spectacle below them, but… of course the screen showed nothing but digital snow now. Battery’s next, he thought, and sure enough a second later the no-battery indicator flashed and the whole camera died. No way was that a coincidence. Something down here was still protecting what was in that bay—something that had nothing to do with locks and keypads. He lowered the camera and folded up the display screen.

“What are you doing?” Justin said, his attention drawn from the sights below by the action. “We gotta get this!” His eyes were shining—clearly Justin was over the moon at this discovery.

He was already putting the camera away in the backpack he had slung over his right shoulder. “It’s toast,” Angelo told him. Seeing where this was going he added, “We will be, too, if we go down there.”

Justin turned back to the glass, staring down at the expanse below in open wonder. “What do you suppose it is?” he murmured, half to himself.

Angelo stared down as well. “Uh, I’m gonna take ‘mile-long phallus’ for a thousand, Alex,” he said.

Justin drew in a breath. “Do you think it’s that long?” he breathed. “No, it’s gotta be longer. Way, way longer.”

Angelo ignored the question. The way it was twisted and coiled and piled on itself, filling the vast space below them, there was no way to really tell. He was more interested in the girth, anyway. It was at least a foot in diameter and seemed packed tight within like his own sausage dick, the pinkish-tan-colored skin appearing almost to strain with how much flesh it contained. He spotted the head—it wasn’t much wider than the coiling shaft but its color was closer to purple where it emerged from its taut foreskin, like the thing was at least partly aroused. Goo oozed from the massive slit, but where it dripped onto the dark floor it seemed to vanish. Most of the shaft, though, looked a little slick, like not all of the cum had been magicked away by whatever kept the rubbery floor clean.

Angelo was about to point all this out to Justin when his buddy grabbed his arm. “Look!” he said, pointing toward the wall on the left side of the bay. There, low and more or less in the middle of the vast bulkhead, was where the everlasting phallus seemed to just emerge from the wall. It was almost like a firehose screwed onto a standpipe, except it looked for all the world like the megacock was just coming right out of the wall. Like… like it was the building’s dick. The hell?? He squinted, looking closer, and saw, very faintly, a fuzzy luminescence ringing the veiny shaft. Having read and seen more than his share of science fiction he immediately knew exactly what he was looking at.

“Who do you think it’s attached to?” Justin said, sounding entranced. “Do you think it’s like, a giant or an alien, and this is normal for him? Or maybe it’s just a regular guy who’s really, really lucky?”

“I think he’s really lucky regardless,” Angelo said. “More likely luck had nothing to do with it.”

Justin turned to look at him. “We gotta go down and see it,” he said excitedly.

Angelo almost smiled. This had to be a died-and-gone-to-heaven moment for his buddy.

The weird thing about Justin was, for a straight guy he was kind of obsessed with cock. He claimed this was normal. “All guys are fascinated by cock,” he’d said once with a shrug and a grin after a post-workout shower, and Angelo had to admit he had a point. Except in Angelo’s experience straight guys tended to be captivated with their own cocks, not anyone else’s. Justin, on the other hand, stared at every cock he saw, whether in the locker room, watching porn, or in the privacy of Justin’s bedroom. They’d jerked each other off plenty of times, and Justin had been intrigued by the look and feel Angelo’s fat eight-incher, a size up in all respects from the elegant pink seven-inch hard-on that Angelo wanted desperately to taste the moment Justin signalled he might let him. He couldn’t compete with what was down there for Justin’s interest, though.

But Angelo hadn’t forgotten the ominous failure of their equipment. He hesitated. Seeing Angelo’s leery expression, Justin arched an eyebrow. “If you’re scared,” he said, “I can have a look and tell you what I find.”

Angelo rolled his eyes. Justin said that whenever they went somewhere weird or dangerous, which was surprisingly often. “I’m right here with you,” he responded dryly, just like always.


Roger Wang took his seat in the large auditorium, glancing up at his minder, who sat two rows up and ten or so seats over. It was a youngish African-American woman today, just as stone-faced as the rest. He kind of resented the fact that he required the eye of big brother on him ever since the experiment. But hey, he did have a billion-dollar piece of secret portal technology strapped around his incredible, leg-wide shaft, allowing his ever-growing dick to fill up some automated bunker a couple thousand miles away instead of crushing everything in this enormous lecture hall with its unbelievable size and weight, himself included. There was another around his nuts, which thereby got to fill get another huge space in the same facility. Otherwise he’d have to roll everywhere.

The minders being around all the time did bug him a little, but the truth was even relocation across the country and whole a new identity (he’d insisted on picking the name, explaining truthfully that it was his immigrant grandmother’s, and he wasn’t sure his humorless handlers had even gotten the joke) didn’t mean he was safe from some rich dickhead who wanted his equipment. In either sense.

Then Roger stiffened. He felt something brushing against his secret, endless dick. A hand. No, two hands. Soon another set joined it, a few feet further down. Four hands, attentively caressing the jizz-slick skin of his very long, very thick, and very sensitive schlong. He felt it plumping up, slowly swelling to as close as he could get to a full erection. He knew anyone looking at him would see he was flushed with a sweat-dappled forehead, but at least there would be no sign of his arousal in his actual crotch. That was the one weird thing about his condition—no visible package. Roger didn’t care. He knew he had more dick than the entire male population of Atlanta combined.

He tried not to rock into the portal, since that was what seemed to be making his monster slowly grow with every passing month, but it was hard not to. He could only guess the technicians sent out to check the systems at the bunker had succumbed to temptation. It did happen. He hoped they were wearing protection this time.

His boyfriend, Terry, dropped down into the seat next to him just as he felt one of the ghostly helpers move position. Suddenly he felt hands stroking aggressively at his super-sensitive cockhead, and then—a face? A tongue?? He twined his fingers around Terry’s and held tight, governing his breathing carefully so as not to seem too obvious to the thankfully oblivious students around them. Terry looked at him, amused. Though an outside observer might think Roger seemed not to be packing much, Terry knew the score—he’d already gotten to slide his hand and arm in through the portal and get a hint of just how hung Roger truly was. Someday soon Roger was going to widen the portal enough to let Terry through completely, and then they’d really have some fun. Maybe these guys would help.

Terry leaned in. “I’m imagining you smashing your giant dick right through that big wall of blackboards,” he whispered, nodding to the front of the lecture hall. Just then, the one who wasn’t lovingly servicing his cockhead climbed on top of the coiled up pile of cock and started using his arms, his legs, and his whole body to stimulate as much cockflesh as he could possibly reach, even as he felt a long, hot dick suddenly sliding deep into his cockslit, filling it so sweetly it was like being fucked as hands gripped his foot-wide cockhead on either side.

It was too much. Roger squeezed Terry’s hand and shook as inconspicuously as he could as he came hard and long, spraying gallon after gallon of piping hot spunk in jet after powerful jet. He felt the guy who’d been fucking his cockhead thrown backwards, fortunately landing on yet more coils and piles of his twenty-mile dick. He dropped his sweaty forehead onto Terry’s shoulder, trying not to laugh at how incredible that orgasm had been.

Terry leaned down and said in a low voice, “Dude, did you just spooge all over Montana again?” That time, Roger did laugh.


Angelo climbed over the mountains of slippy cock, trying to reach his prone best friend. Just as he got to Justin he slipped and half collapsed onto his buddy. Justin was literally drenched in cum, even more than Angelo was. He wiped the cum away from Justin’s smiling face as best he could. “Justin?” he said, his voice echoing in the enormous chamber. “Justin, can you hear me?”

Justin’s eyes fluttered open. He looked dazed from pure, unadulterated bliss. He focused on Angelo with an effort and beamed up at him. “That was amazing, Angie,” he said. “Did you like it?”

Angelo had cum the second he’d felt the climax surging through the giant cock, knowing it was headed for Justin. He’d watched, filling his own pants with jizz even as a rain of cum had doused him in hot, delicious spunk. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Yeah, I liked it.” He shifted against Justin, and felt them both growing hard. Only—

Justin’s eyes widened. “Angie, I think something is happening to me down there,” he said, sounding spooked.

Angelo licked the cum off his own lips, then offered Justin a slow smile. “If you’re scared,” he drawled, “I can have a look and tell you what I find.”

Justin met his gaze, his eyes shining with arousal, affection, and more. “I’m right here with you,” he responded.

Angelo kissed him then, long and deep. And out of all the strange things that had happened that day, and those that had yet to happen, the most important and cherished memory of their adventure would always be the moment he kissed Justin, and Justin kissed him back.


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