“Have you been taking my multivitamins?”
I looked up from my Cheerios to see my new roommate, Rob, standing by the spice cupboard with the big bottle of vitamins I'd been quietly stealing from in his hand, eyeing me suspiciously. He was wearing his usual just-got-up morning outfit—gym shorts, tousled hair, and nothing else. I'd been trying not to look: his bod totally plugged me in whenever I saw it. I'd been totally boned half the time I'd been home ever since I'd moved into Rob's extra room, fresh off the bus from Nowhere, Illinois.
I shrugged. “I don't take that stuff. I'm indestructible,” I added, pounding my firm but flat chest through my tee shirt. Truth was, I barely had the money to make rent and I was sneaking anything I could get my hands on and thought I could get away with. Back home I was very habit-prone: Cheerios, milk, a vitamin, and orange juice for breakfast, soup and crackers for lunch, and two blow-jobs a day from my best bud Andy (there was an abandoned barn on the way to school, and of course, it was there on the way back from school, too). Here in New York I'd been trying to revive my old traditions, but sad to say I hadn't gotten much past the Cheerios and the crackers.
Inside my stomach was tightening up “cause I'd got caught, but my innocent act had got me out of worse scrapes. Rob nodded at me, as if he'd accepted what I'd said. “Well, good,” he said, putting the bottle back on the shelf and closing the cupboard door. “These aren't ordinary vitamins, you know,” he added, moving toward me. “Specially formulated. I'd hate for you to suffer any side effects.” By this point he was standing next to me, his crotch inches away from my hand. His package, just hanging loose in his gym shorts, was so awesome I was instantly painfully hard in my PJs, which were fortunately hidden beneath the table and two layers of bathrobe. I couldn't tell much through the thick fabric of his shorts, but it looked big. And wide.
Very deliberately, I turned back toward my breakfast, but my eyes were still peeking at that basket. I forced my gaze back onto my softening cereal, willing my cheeks not to burn. When I looked up again he was gone. A few seconds later I heard the shower starting up.
“Fuck this,” I thought, abandoning my breakfast and stumbling headlong into my little room, trying to hide my huge boner in the folds of my bathrobe. I pushed the door closed and fell into bed, my left hand already gripping my pole, which had popped out of the fly of my PJs, my right hand reaching for a barely concealed jar of Vaseline.
As I lubed up my left hand I stared at my cock, which looked funny. Something about it looked weird. Not bad, but weird. Then I wrapped my palm around it and I realized it felt—wider! It filled up my palm in a way it never had before. I felt like I was going through puberty all over again at 17—I mean, 18. I could barely breathe, but I was so turned on I couldn't have stopped my left hand from pumping that cock if I'd been offered a million dollars.
As my hand flew and my breath grew even shorter, my heart pounding in my ears, I had the bizarre sensation that my cock was pushing my hand open. I started to get scared—I'd dreamed of having a monster cock all my life and I was afraid I'd lost touch with reality—but the overpowering sensation of my cock broadening, thickening in my hand as I pounded it with my suddenly inadequate fist was awesome and unstoppable.
Seconds later I felt the cum surging out of my balls and up my mondo cock and before I knew it I was spraying my face with cum. My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid it would burst out of my chest. And then, as I was heaving with the aftershocks, I found I was staring at my cock, which had developed two cockheads. I realized there were two streams of cum running down my face. I pushed my still-bone-hard cock forward. It was just about twice as wide as before now, and at the end there were two cockheads.
I gaped at it, cum dribbling into both corners of my mouth. And then I slowly started my left hand going again.
I ended up jerking off like four times that morning, because my double-wide cock (a) felt good and (b) would not go down, and because, frankly, I wanted to see if anything else would happen. I finally stumbled to the shower an hour later, my hardy member finally softening a little. The apartment was silent and empty: Rob was long gone to his suit-and-tie stockbroker job.
I showered quickly and got out. Still wet, with a towel around my waist, I headed for the kitchen. I wanted another look at those vitamins. That, and maybe to eat the whole bottle. But Rob had forestalled me. The bottle (which just said, “Chelsea Boy Brand Ultimate Multivitamin”) was empty, except for a single pill. Soon, of course, it was empty altogether.
The next several days were maddening. I seldom saw Rob, and when I did we acted as though nothing strange was going on, but every day at breakfast there was one pill rattling in the bottom of the vitamin bottle. Every day Rob vanished early, and every day before I wandered off to my excruciatingly boring temp job I jacked off again and again, and while I was having the most amazing orgasms of my life (I was leaving stains on the wall behind my bed) my cock stubbornly refused to undergo any further transformations.
I was working up the nerve to come clean with Rob (who obviously knew what was going on anyway!) when I noticed, Friday morning, that a very shallow little furrow was starting to develop right down the middle of my double-wide cock. Fascinated, I inspected that furrow carefully. It felt tender, though, and I could only jack off three times that morning.
That night, to my surprise, Rob was home when I got home. He'd ordered a pizza and offered to share it with me while we watched movies on cable. I was surprised, because he'd started out being just business, and then this week he'd graduated into this strange vitamin-tease. Now, though, he was being nice, and it seemed genuine. Damn, he was hot, too, even more so in the tee-shirt and jeans he'd changed into after work than in his morning gym-shorts-and-a-smile.
We sat on the couch together, enjoying each other's masculine presence without really doing anything about it. He poured some wine, and we polished off the bottle toward the end of the second movie.
As the credits rolled by I tried to adjust my cock, which had been bothering me off and on all day. I was laying back with my head on Rob's shoulder, and I wondered how long I'd been lying that way. His cologne was sweet and very gentle.
“Is it sore?” he said, very softly.
I nodded, not wondering at the question or my willingness to answer it. I was very relaxed. We were relaxed together.
“It itches a little,” I added.
Without another word he moved his hand gently onto my crotch. My cock was already half-hard, and it seemed to want to stiffen at his touch, but it was slow and lethargic. With a great deal of care Rob slowly opened my slacks and pulled back my Jockeys to reveal my sluggish boner. I looked at it with interest and concern. The furrow had deepened significantly, with similar one on the bottom, and both sides were red and tender at the deepest point of the furrow. He held it in his warm hands and smiled at me. “I think it's getting ready to split,” he said.
Staring into his eyes I reached with my hand for his warm crotch. I was surprised only by the size of his erections—both felt individually a good deal bigger than my swollen, double-sized cock was now.
He winked at me. “I've heard this is the best way to make the transition,” he said. “It sure was for me.” And with that, he wrapped his warm mouth around my aroused, tender cock and started, incredibly gently, to caress its surface with his very talented tongue.
My cock was forgetting its earlier lethargy, and before long it was fully hard and becoming too big for Rob's mouth. Nonetheless he kept on, massaging my cock with his lips and tongue, gently running the tip along that furrow. I realized that my cock was widening again, and that the furrow seemed to be rapidly deepening under Rob's careful ministrations. I was totally enthralled, my breathing ragged, sweat trickling off my forehead.
And then—it happened. My cocks separated, pulling apart slowly like a leg pulling away from a hot vinyl seat in the summer. Rob's mouth was completely full of both my huge cocks. They felt gigantic, bigger than my old cock had been (and that cock was the pride of Ransom County). “Let me see,” I said, but he shook his head and started—ever so gently—to tongue the very, very tender new skin on each internal side of my cocks, where they had just seconds before pulled apart.
I went through the roof with unbearable pleasure. Arching my back, I endured his careful caresses for as long as I could, then yelled, “I gotta cum!!”
Rob pulled off them, revealing two of the most beautiful, long, thick, wide boners I'd ever seen in my life, and even as I drank them in they came, hard, shooting all over my face, the couch behind me, my shirt, everywhere.
I came a long time, and only ripped my eyes away when I realized that Rob had dropped his pants and was stroking his monster cocks over me and was about to cum on me as well. He had one cock in each hand, but they were so big that two hands were not enough. I instantly resolved to help him out in that department from now on, and even as I was thinking that he came, drenching my already wet shirt and the throw pillow I'd collapsed against.
Once he'd finished cumming he slumped onto the couch and rested his head on my chest, his softening cocks draped across my knees. He was still panting. For that matter, so was I. My cocks were still very hard, but I wasn't sure they were ready for more, quite yet.
Rob lay admiring them. “They're gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” I said. And I meant it.
He sat up a little and looked me in the eyes. “My pleasure.” He said, and to my surprise didn't grin.
He lay back town to gaze at my twins some more. “They're the most beautiful pair I've seen.”
I frowned down at him. “Wait—there's more like you? Like—us?”
He looked up at me again. This time, he grinned.