Seven Day Boy
by Limerick
SUNDAY
Jeremy awoke very nearly a god. The godhead swung between his legs, just about at his knees.
It came fully erect soon after waking, as if abashed at getting caught at half-mast. Once properly engorged his penis was its own entity, a pink and red prong that stuck out well in front of him, the head capped with an angry crimson tip. His balls were swollen and hot.
“I made it,” he said, surprised at himself. “Seven days.”
Seven days! Seven days without cumming. It had been a reasonably easy thing for three days, just turning down a few opportunistic women. Days 4 and 5 had been increasingly difficult. Not just the physical demands of his unsatisfied and overstuffed testicles, which were very cranky. He felt jammed with sperm. His libido raged, accustomed and attuned to getting drained every three or four hours. It demanded draining, fixated on every passing girl.
Jeremy didn’t trust himself to even touch the thing. It was on a hair trigger, and had started oozing precum of its own accord at the start of day six. He walked gingerly into the shower, dick bobbing, and turned it to cold on full blast. Even then he barely turned flaccid, and got hard as soon as he stuffed the thing into his pants. The effort left him gasping. There weren’t any eight-day boys. He’d either cum today or end up in the hospital. Blue balls were no joke.
But as weird and aching as it was, Jeremy felt… good. Like he had found a weird alternative to meditation, a shortcut to ascetic altered consciousness. He could sense his own scent around him, and his bloodstream coursed with enormous amounts of unchecked and chemically altered testosterone. Every muscle, and he had far more of them, bulged and rippled. Excepting his dong he was confident he could run for miles, lift, carry, fight. It was a razor’s edge between peak masculinity and death, but it was extremely enjoyable, in its own way.
Jeremy got ready for his job. He had picked out his outfit the day before. Dark pants to hide the precum stains, button-down shirt. The boy in the mirror had a strange fixed look in his eyes, and his skin had an odd gloss to it, probably from the sheer volume of chemical crud his body was exuding. He stepped out front onto Ramaset Avenue.
He had a sudden lapse of confidence, despite the churn of hormones propping him up. The whole thing was truly ludicrous. He was strutting about certain he was a sex god with his absurdly large penis preceding him, having turned himself into a chemical bomb of fuck. A male pepper spray. All so he could drug a girl he had a crush on into sucking his penis. What the hell was he doing?
Jeremy clutched the rail to his staircase. The moment passed. It helped that a jogger girl passed by, and was thrown completely off her stride by a stray whiff of him. Her head snapped over to where he was. She came to a halt. Jeremy gave her a swift nod, and then shook his head no. The jogger still had trouble pulling herself away, her mouth open, tongue lolling out. A seven-day shot of concentrated maleness flooded her.
“Tomorrow,” Jeremy said, stepping away. “Maybe. I hope to be married by then.”
He strode through neighborhoods. It would’ve been easier to drive, but he didn’t have a car. Up until a month ago he had barely anything besides a retail job, an apartment that faced another apartment, and student loan debt he’d never repay. Technically he still had the loan debt, and the apartment, and the go-nowhere job. But now he was a burnished brass demigod, and he was going to pick up a girl.
“Hey, Lori,” he said, deliberately casual, in the back room at the job. Electronics warehouse. Lori had beautiful black hair in ringlets, and it cascaded all the way back down to her ass.
“Jerem—oh,” her face turned serious. The store logo was distorted and hard to read over her far-bigger tits. “Oh. You’re… oh.” She was married with three kids. “Jeremy. You..” she just stood there, sniffing. He wondered what he smelled like. Whatever it was, it enchanted.
“Seven days,” he said, modestly.
“Can I…” Lori fell to her knees. “Jeremy?”
“I’m.. uh… no,” he said. “Is Sarah in yet?”
Lori sighed. She managed to stand up, went over to the exit door, and stuck her head outside. Eventually she was able to look back. “You knew she was coming back today?”
“Perhaps,” Jeremy said. He reprimanded himself. He was a seven day man. He needed to act like it. “I decided to give her a memorable welcome-back suck,” he said.
“Oh, it won’t be memorable,” Lori said. She couldn’t quite keep her mouth closed. “She won’t remember anything for the next two or three days. Jeremy, I can leave my husband. It’s no big deal. Let me suck your penis. I’m amazing at it. And Connor is already giving her re-orientation in his office.”
Oh, god DAMN it. Jeremy hustled out onto the floor, made a beeline for the manager’s office. Customers turned and stared at him, his scent bustling through the shop floor. A wave of pussy-flooding scent surrounded him. Girls dropped bags, men paused. His dick wobbled around, fully erect and now getting in his way.
Sarah was in Connor’s lap, and they were watching the re-orientation video together. HR had rushed it out, detailing proper sexual conduct in a work environment. “Oral servicing can not and should not interfere with store functioning,” explained the blonde in a grey suit on the screen. “And please, refer to the store manager for designated rest areas for when you need to take an oral rest break.”
The store manager was a year younger than Jeremy, and favored a heavy beard along with too-tight polo shirts.
Connor had, a few weeks ago, taken Jeremy aside and explained, very thoroughly, that he would be assigning store employee oral servicing periods, and if Jeremy had a problem with the assignments, Jeremy could go fuck himself.
“Jeremy, I’m busy with Sarah,” he said, barely looking up. Sarah was still basically a plump partial blonde with a too-small nose and too-big forehead, with a body typecast as “farmer’s wife.” She just had much bigger tits. Right then she was moaning deep in her throat as Connor rubbed her slit underneath the khakis she had stuffed herself into.
“Sarah’s coming with me,” Jeremy said. He drew himself up. His dick hurt from running. But seeing Sarah had made him confident, once again. She and him had been work buddies, had texted jokes behind Connor’s back for months. She had texted him, not long ago, to say that she was coming back. He had already been thinking about going seven days. That clinched it. Especially when she had confessed she was more than a little scared.
“Sarah is undergoing reorientation, and then, an immediate oral servicing period, and than another one,” Connor said. He frowned. Jeremy’s scent was probably reaching him. “And perhaps a third. Sarah has been getting by on government cum, isn’t that sad?”
She did look underinflated, her skin lacking that healthy sheen that came from the good stuff. That was fine. Jeremy had plenty for her.
“I’m handling it,” Jeremy said, firmly.
“No, you’re—oh, christ,” Connor said. He stopped rubbing. Sarah’s eyes opened. She looked at him. Jeremy wondered what he looked like to her. “You stopped cumming. For Sarah? Seriously?” Connor stood up. He had several inches on Jeremy. Maybe fifty pounds.
Jeremy glared at him. He was certain he could kill Connor. He was ready to. He wasn’t sure it would even be difficult. He put his arm out, and Sarah hustled over and snuggled right into it. Did he need to say anything? This wasn’t really an argument, it was him taking what was his. Scent did his argument for him.
Their stares met. Biochemicals burst between them. Sarah, overcome by it all, sagged against Jeremy.
Connor broke first. There was no real reason to fight. He hardly cared about Sarah, after all. “Fine,” he shrugged. “Have fun, lovebirds. Does she even know your last name?”
“I don’t care,” Jeremy said, honestly.
He hustled her away. Sarah could barely walk. It had been way too much for her. She had hid out, emerged into a world of overwhelming scents and male competition. A god in glasses walked next to her.
“Men’s room,” Jeremy decided. He hustled her along. His cock was starting to really drip. He was getting concerned he wouldn’t make it. It didn’t help to have a girl pushed up against him, his hand on her ass to help her walk. He could smell her, too, a subtle scent of violets, submissive-scent, need-scent, sex-scent. Lots of sex-scent.
“Mmmm… Jeremy,” Sarah said, through a thick tongue. “You’re Jeremy, right?”
“Yeah, it’s me,”
“You gotta…” she pawed at his crotch, clumsy. “This for me?”
“Uh huh,” he slammed open the employee restroom door. If anyone was in there he was prepared to murder them. It was empty. He settled Sarah onto her knees and unzipped. Her lips smacked. She stared at it.
“Sarah, will you.. Oh. I forgot the ring.” God damn it. Well, he had debated that part. It seemed presumptuous. Although it was also presumptuous to have her suck brain-altering cum without some sort of prior relationship.
Sarah inhaled and exhaled. The miasma of it settled in. She was vaguely aware that she was about to change in very permanent ways. His cock was so big.
“This is going to be a lot to take in,” Jeremy cautioned her. “And, uh, I’m going to cum almost immediately.”
That was fine. Sarah opened her mouth for the god. A good way to start the week.