I discovered my strange mutation—at least that’s what I think it is, a mutation—the summer I turned 24.
I knew that I was gifted before that. I had this strange way of knowing things about people I’d just met. Not their lives or their secrets, but their bodies. From the moment I got to know someone, I just knew everything. If that person still had an appendix, the number of hairs on his body, how healthy he was, how heavy, how smart, how strong, how big. Think about it for a second. Think about the possibilities. You get it.
But I came to know that this wasn’t actually all I could do. Lucky me.
See, I discovered that all I had to do was to touch that person, skin to skin. If I just touched their shirt or their hair, it didn’t work. And then I could see—feel, really—their stats. I could see them as long as I could see the person. Pretty easy rule.
All that wasn’t particularly exciting. It was a nice party trick, but not very useful in daily life. Until I discovered how to trade, and man, that’s when my life really started. These are my stories…
Standing in front of the urinal I could feel the bass of the club in my bones. I was drunk as fuck and kind of swaying as I peed when another dude entered the bathroom, the music becoming louder for a second and immediately fading.
It was that fuckhead. He was even drunker than me, and he had been bothering my friends and me the whole evening. It was our night out to dance and have fun, but he had been ruining it by yelling nonsense in our ears, touching my friends. I had told him to fuck off, but he didn’t care, and security didn’t give a fuck either. He was a real-life troll, being shitty just because it was fun for him.
“Oh, look, it’s Mister Gofuckyourself,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at the urinal next to mine. Before unzipping, he slapped my back, and at that exact moment my life changed.
Part of his index finger brushed against the part of my neck that wasn’t covered by my t-shirt, so I could see his stats, but after 24 years that wasn’t that special to me anymore, and I was pretty pissed so I ignored it.
He took out his average dick and started to piss.
“You should relax, my friend. We’re all just here to have some fun, and you, my friend—”
“Don’t call me friend, asshole,” I yelled as I zipped my pants.
He started laughing because he was because making me furious, which was all he’d wanted.
I could still see his stats because I was looking at him, and I don’t know why I had the thought I did at that moment, but that was what made the magic begin. My right hand started to glow slightly blue around the edges (only visible to me, I found out later). I was bringing my hand closer to my eyes to see if it was for real or just the alcohol, when the blue light flew across the room in the form of a little ball of light, passed through the still-peeing asshole at the urinal and came back to my hand. It all took just a second and it was over. He hadn’t noticed anything.
I blinked once or twice, and then went to wash my hands. At that moment, the sensation began inside my pants. I could feel the blood pumping inside my dick, and then it started to grow. I watched my own crotch in the mirror and could see it expanding outward. Without hesitation, I touched my left forearm so I could see my own stats. My cock was soft and it was 9 1/4 inches long. I grabbed my junk and I could feel the new mass of flesh moving inside my jeans.
I heard a moan from the urinal, and I glanced back into the other room. Asshole was looking down, his whole body shaking. He zipped and left the toilet running, his face as white as the tiled walls. Escaping, he brushed my arm and I could see that he had only 1.5’’ of cock left. It took a split second for me to realize I had most of his dick’s length inside my pants.
I left the bathroom with the new weight pulling at my groin, and I felt even drunker than before. My newly engorged cock was crammed inside my briefs and rubbing vigorously against my hairy thighs. I wanted to try it again on the dance floor where no one was watching, to make sure this power wasn’t a one-time-only thing, but there were too many people. I was touching a different guy every two seconds and I couldn’t concentrate. So I went to the bar and waited next to a man with a nice 7-incher. He wasn’t naked—I just touched his elbow without him noticing.
I wished for two inches of his dick, but nothing happened. The blue light didn’t appear, and my brain was too drunk to remember what my thought process had been in the bathroom. Which pissed me off enough to have a thought I would soon regret, drunk as I was: “Man, I would give my balls for some of that dick.”
My hand began to glow, and I swear I didn’t want to raise it but it happened anyway. It slipped, you could say.
He just stood there casually drinking his gin and tonic as his dick lost some of its size and a new set of balls, slightly smaller than his originals, grew inside his sack. He just rearranged his package, but couldn’t really feel a difference through the fabric of his jeans.
I tried not to stare at him as I watched his stats, mouth agape. Four balls. A 5-inch cock. It had really worked, but how the fuck was that possible?
I spent the next few minutes trading little things back and forth. Of course, I started with my balls—I took them back and gave him an inch of his cock back in exchange. Then I went on to change a few little things, but nothing major. It first occurred to me that I might be overdoing it when I realized I had taken 6’’ of his 7’’ cock and he had gotten a bit hefty with fat from my belly. Not very nice, I know.
While I had a nice thick 11’’ cock stuffed inside my pants, he had nothing but a slightly bigger belly. As I watched, he looked down, suddenly noticing his shirt, which was fitting a bit too well around the hips, and the total absence of the bulge he’d had on display a minute before. I noticed sweat becoming visible on his forehead, and before he could touch his junk, I traded back in panic.
That hadn’t been very nice. I was still drunk and I wanted to apologize, and the only way I could think of to do it was to give him a furtive gift.
I started walking through the club, touching people here and there, trading only very small amounts that I hoped nobody would miss. I passed off some freckles and hairs and a scar on my knee I’d had since I was a child. It took me some time to find the guy from the bar again, and when I did it was almost too late; he was already leaving with his girlfriend. But as he picked up his jacket, I managed to touch his forearm. I was kind of sad to lose a big chunk of my newly enhanced dick, but I had all the time in the world to build it back up again. As the trade was working, I watched him uncomfortably shifting his weight from one leg to the other. I could barely see his tightening crotch, but I could feel the numbers changing. 8 inches, 8.5 inches, 9 inches. His fists clenched on the counter. 9.5 inches.
He rearranged his junk and looked down in shock.
“What, baby?” his beautiful girlfriend wanted to know.
“Nothing,” he said. 10 inches. “Fuck…mm…nothing.”
At the end, I took some fat from his hips and belly, too, and gave him a bit of size from my balls. I watched him leaving with an insane bulge and a marvelous grin on his face. I bet he wasted no time showing her his new monster.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t have been happier thinking about all the things I could do with my newfound talent.
Over the course of the summer, I tried out a few things and made a few new friends. There are a couple people I’ve met since I found out about my power that I see on a regular basis. Brian is one of them.
When I first met him at the local gym, he was at the bench press. He looked like he’d been lifting for half a year or so, and the first results were clearly visible: the definition of his arms and legs, slightly defined pecs, the shadow of a six-pack and the premonition of a wider back.
But, as always, I was curious about his other stats, so I got closer.
“Is this your last set?” I asked him.
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
“Sure thing,” I smiled, bumping his knee with mine.
The link to his body was activated and I immediately saw what I had guessed through the fabric of his not-so-perfectly-black training shorts: a solid 8.5’’ of cock. Holy moly, that guy was lucky, and it took all my self-control to tear my eyes away from his junk.
We chatted a couple times in the days after that. While lifting, in the locker room, and after two weeks, even in the showers.
I noticed that he had a fascination with his own size, and he definitely wanted to get even bigger than he already was—you could tell from the way he posed in front of the mirror, grabbing his huge, hot junk after every set he lifted, the time it took for him to clean his cock in the shower, and the way he showed it to everyone else in the locker room as he marveled at himself in the little mirrors. He always got a semi just looking at his own heavy cock.
After three weeks of me studying him secretly, we talked in the showers. I had no plan for him then, but as the talk went on I kept thinking it might be fun to have a little adventure with Brian. For context: At that time my cock was 7.5’’ long. Maybe that was one of the reasons he liked me as a friend. I knew what it meant to be above average.
“Sorry, just wanna tell you that I’m not staring,” I told him as the water sprayed down our backs.
“It’s fine, bro, perfectly fine. I would stare too.”
And he looked down at his own semi-hard dick, which was swinging left and right as we spoke.
I began to steer the conversation, trying to figure out if I was right about him.
Me: “Sometimes I wish I were even bigger, you know? I’m know I’m lucky, and girls love it, but damn, look at that monster. It must feel so awesome to have such a gigantic cock.”
There was a grin on his face as I spoke, and he started jerking his cock a little bit.
Brian: “Bro, I know what you mean. Sure, this baby’s big, but I would love for it to be even bigger. I would love to know how that would feel. To have power of a REAL man, you know? Everyone staring, everyone wishing to be you.”
Me: “Right, right, that’s what I mean. Guess all you can do is wish.”
We finished showering, and while we were chatting about his fascination, I transferred 0.25’’ of my cock size onto his, taking a few grams from his muscular thighs for myself. His were already astonishingly built—he never skipped leg day—so I thought that was only fair.
He got another 0.25’’ two days later, and 0.5’’ the week after that. In the meantime, I was fetching dick size from other lucky strangers who wouldn’t miss it, hard as they were to find. I wanted Brian to think that his was the only cock changing size here. I kept the 7.5’’ he knew.
A week later he found me in the locker room to show off his new underwear, and more importantly the way it showcased his engorged, stunning bulge. I threw a towel over myself; I didn’t want him to see mine because I had prepared something for him.
His cock was 9.5’’ long and pretty close to pushing its way out of his briefs.
Brian: “I guess wishful thinking can make a difference.”
Me: “Fuck, Brian! That thing looks even bigger than usual.” (Side note: I’m a good actor.)
Brian: “It is even bigger than usual. It’s not a trick! Look, it grew an inch over the last week.”
He pulled his briefs down, his long heavy cock falling free and slapping against his thighs.
Me: “Are you fucking kidding me? How does it feel?”
Brian: “Amazing! Love the feeling of it being cramped inside my pants all day, the way people stare at the hard bulge it makes.”
Me: “That sounds pretty fucking sweet. Man, I wish my cock would grow too.”
Brian: “Maybe it will, hahaha. And I hope mine isn’t finished growing.”
Me, smiling to myself: “You want even more?”
Brian: “There’s no limit. I don’t even know how big I want it, but everyone should know I’m the biggest.”
What Brian didn’t know was that I had 10’’ of fat uncut cock wrapped inside my pants, ready to change owners.
Luckily, Brian’s newly discovered penis growth boosted his will to train even harder in the gym to get the alpha body he needed to match it. Which is why it wasn’t a problem to steal some of his muscle mass while he made his alpha male dreams come true.
Two hours later he dropped a pair of dumbells to the ground, screaming in pain. His muscles were all swollen and sore, and he needed some time to catch his breath. He looked down and a grin spread over his face as he noticed his even-more-pronounced bulge. I had given him all of my extra 2.5’’, and he could feel its power rising in him.
Seeing his dick in the shower that day was just insane. 12’’ of cock was slapping loudly against his rock-hard thighs with every step.
“Dude? How do you do that? That’s insane! You were big before, but this monster is just unreal. If it keeps growing like this you’re not gonna be able to hide it much longer.”
“Oh, I’m just waiting for that day.”
And so, I thought to myself, it’s time to give him what he wants.
That night I went to a gay club where I met some men with astonishingly built bodies. I harvested a bit of size here and there, only stopping when I started having problems walking properly.
The next time I met Brian in the gym, I wore extremely loose clothes and hoped that he wouldn’t notice my enormous package.
Me: “Has it grown again?”
Brian: “No, and I’m pretty pissed. Look at this thing,” he said and grabbed his massive bulge in front of the mirror in the weights room.
Brian: “This can’t be it. After it started to grow again I really thought my wildest dreams were coming true. But 12’’ isn’t enough. There are dudes out there packing even more than that. I don’t feel like king of the locker room anymore—I’m just another wimp.”
Me: “Brian, you’re talking about 12 fucking inches! You’ve got to have the biggest cock in the city, at least—maybe the biggest in the country!”
Brian: “How would you know?”
(Well, that’s a long story, Brian, but you’re not ready for it.)
Me: “I just know.”
At the end of our training session, I gave his back a little slap and congratulated him on his set. Watching his stats, I prepared the transfer.
With his help, I had gained some serious mass over the last few weeks, but he hadn’t noticed at all.
I thought: “Trade 8’’ and half the width of my cock against 1.5 pounds of his muscle.”
I raised my hand and the ball flew across the room and back to me.
Brian: “Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! It’s starting again!”
Me, playing dumb: “What?”
Brian tried to lower his voice, but he was having a hard time hiding his excitement. His eyes were glued to his crotch, and he dropped his sweatpants to reveal enormously bulging boxer briefs. They were clearly designed to handle a big basket, but even before this growth spurt they’d been way too small for that monster cock. And now it was growing even bigger before of my eyes.
Brian and I watched as his dick swelled within his boxer briefs. The snake became longer and thicker, the material thinner, the rising weight of his cock pulling the whole package downward.
All I could read from Brian’s eyes was the word “Yes!” It was strange to feel my dick climbing up my leg as it lost 8’’ in size, but it wasn’t my first time. Meanwhile, I was getting a hard-on just looking at Brian.
The weight of his monster cock was finally too much flesh for his underwear, and the first few inches were now exposed to the world—and everyone in the gym. People stopped and stared.
When the transfer was done and Brian had the cock of his wildest dreams—20 inches, as thick as a McDonald’s cup—he surprised me by hugging me. I could feel the warmth and weight of his monster pressing against my legs as I heard his voice in my ear.
“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you so fucking much!”
I tried to deny the truth, but all he did was laugh in my face, so I hedged with a “believe what you want” attitude—maybe it was me, maybe not. Either way, he wasn’t paying attention to me anymore—he was too busy shaking his bulge in front of everyone in the gym, until an employee finally came and told him, eyes on his obscene package, that he had to cover up.
We both went straight to the showers, where Brian failed to cover up a single inch of his skin. Everyone, he thought, needed to see his ridiculous alpha cock.
Soon, Brian became something of a legend. It wasn’t long before everyone in town knew who he was. People didn’t even know his name, just the nickname that everyone was using within a few weeks: Twenty.
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