The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You missed the speech, and the dinner,” the mind controller said. “And there’s no one to check you in, including me.”

Cyrus didn’t say anything. It was a surefire strategy for people having a problem with him. Blank expression, dead eyes. But his traveling companion had a different tactic: hopeful smiling.

“Maybe you can go in and find the—what’s the name of the super strong mind controller?”

“Damien,” Cyrus said.

“Damien!” Cary said, “Right. Maybe go tell him we’re out here? If you wouldn’t mind? If you wouldn’t mind control?”

Cary had a lot of flesh and radiated a firm belief that things would work out. He was soft and wet.

The mind controller smirked. His mental probe skittered all over Cary, learning his likes and dislikes, assessing his still-complaining bladder. Cary had no mental talent at all. The probe slid over to Cyrus, where it was stopped absolutely cold, at a mind that was wholly opaque. Impenetrable.

Or so Cyrus had always believed, until he’d met Damien.

Cyrus earned a grudging nod of respect. To save face the mind controller had Cary’s knees give out. He flopped backwards onto his butt, letting out a big gasp. The man’s cock wobbled between his legs. It was at least twelve inches long. Cyrus avoided looking at it as much he could.

“Damien told us to meet here,” Cyrus said. “Do you think he’d want you to help out?” Cyrus didn’t even try to exert mental pressure. He’d learned how to glare a long time ago. The mind controller rubbed at a oversized mustache and muttered to himself.

“I’ll check into it,” he said, finally.

“Good,” Cyrus said. “Thank you.”

“You’re one of HIS kids, right? I think we have three dozen of you this summer. Nothing but brothers.”

Cyrus flicked his gaze up to the mind controller. He waited for the man to try something, and then he shut it down. Pain blossomed on the man’s face. “Thank. You.” Cyrus said.

He helped Cary up. Cary’s hand was past moist—it was a stream, a terminus for condensation starting from his shaggy head. “Geez,” he said, hurt. “Sorry we’re late.”

Cyrus considered himself born into mind control. He’d felt around in other people’s heads for a long time, felt at home in the world that could sink tendrils into exterior thoughts. He glowed. And yet, Cary had been the one to end their flight with the stewardess hungrily sucking his dick. While the man ate a stroopwafel.

The final batch waited near the double doors. The main lecture hall at Seeprince University contained a half-dozen statues of old man appearing thoughtful. All the lights had been turned down very low. Which was tough, because the late recruits were all very tired. There were no chairs or anything, so they sprawled against the imposing granite columns.

Cyrus had been the last addition to a late group. From conversations with the others Damien had made his pickups swiftly and with prior knowledge. This despite the tremendous versatility in abilities, skills, talents. They were all young men, except Ronald, who was on the other side of 60, and fast asleep on the floor. Cyrus wasn’t even the shortest. They were sheepish and wore ugly shoes. The only thing they really had in common, at all, was that they were very, very, very good at getting women to fuck them.

When it came to that, they were amazing.

“We should be getting instructions soon. Everyone else is getting dessert.” No one said anything about crashing the main hall. Interrupting a huge crowd of mind controllers, moments before dessert, was a bad idea. Many of the crew were still in shock—Cyrus had been one of only a few to know that a larger world of skilled mind controllers and body transformers existed.

Ronald stirred. He sat up. “Damn. I keep expecting to wake up. But it’s still you people. Explain to me, someone, why all of us here, all of us so good at getting women to cream their panties, are hanging out at the sausage party of all sausage parties?”

Cyrus, who had some ideas about this, didn’t say anything. Neither did anyone else, although Cary seemed about to burst into tears.

“Well,” Ronald chewed on his lower lip. “Since we’re all waiting around, lets go around and say what it is we do. I can’t imagine even one of you can make a lady cream their jeans.”

“Please,” Cary said. “Stop saying, cream your… whatever. Please.”

“You start,” Ronald said.

Biggus Dickus

Over a two week period Cary’s prick doubled in size.

Big, shaped like a canteen, he hadn’t given his penis size a lot of consideration. There were a lot of other issues with his body. His dick was normal-sized and didn’t bend one way or the other. It worked. It was just a penis. It didn’t need to get bigger, longer, heavier, and thicker. It just did.

It was very hard to hide and Cary had to conclude he wouldn’t be able to. It was just too big. People were just going to know about it, even if he bought special pants. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he told the office bathroom mirror, firmly. At least, widely sized and freckled, he was well-experienced with forced body positivity. “You’re FINE.”

He strode out, stiffly, and took his place at his desk.

Cary was nineteen and the only male in a small office of women. Three other women, who were thoughtful, competent, and initially treated him like a puppy. After a few months they’d made a collective decision to act like he was one of the girls. It was one of his top accomplishments in life.

“Cary, you feeling okay?” Evelyn said. She very carefully didn’t look between his legs. She had to have noticed. It was basically like he’d grown a third arm. “Everything, you know… normal?”

He blushed. If the game was to make Cary blush, it was a high-scoring one. Blood pooled all about him. He winced—it was pooling again, between his legs. He’d had an erection on and off for two weeks, like his dick was trying to grow itself, during work hours. He’d measured himself just that morning at a little bit south of twelve inches. A full foot of cock.

The blood surge was possibly due to Clara walking by. Her professional attire was dominated by sharp-edged blouses and pencil skirts. The other two wore demure, sensible pants. It was an aggressive wardrobe, and matched by cat-eye glasses. “You okay, Cary?” she caught his strained expression.

“Getting my period,” he choked out. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the joke, and it never failed to kill. The girls loved it. Jane even cracked a smile. She was on the brink of middle age, with a web of lines at her eyes that threatened to switch over from “warm” to “old”. But she also wore taut sweaters and was clearly proud of her chest. All of her outfits referred to her cleavage in some way..

He excused himself back to the men’s room, which he had all to himself. Their group was the survivor of many corporate purges, and had much of a wing all alone. Nonetheless Cary locked the door. He lowered his pants.

It was getting really large. Really, really big dick.

And it hadn’t simply expanded, a doubled-up version of his inoffensive, mild pink prick. This was a more primal beast. Erect—and it usually was—it was more of an angry red, fire hydrant red. Generally speaking, because it also had veins wrapped around its considerable length, blue and red in alternate, the entire mechanism of blood delivery brutally exposed. His cockhead flared and seemed to throb. Definitely it twitched. More generally it was just long and imposing. It demanded attention. It was a really big dick.

His big dick.

Cary had initially been torn between jacking off and not, on the theory that masturbation was somehow making matters bigger. That option was getting taken away. If he didn’t jack off it became sore and—there was no other term for it—angry. His libido had ratcheted up along with his penis size. Cary put his hands on it, looked at himself in the mirror.

For a moment he had the utter conviction that his dick would look a lot better fucking some girl’s mouth.

He shook it off. He had no desire to reduce a woman to panting shocked silence by ploughing away between their legs. Thrusting and thrusting. With his fat prick.

“Cary, come on,” he scolded himself. This was—Cary wasn’t sure what it was. “You can handle this.”

The issue was—it didn’t fit. Being the calm, genial man, a friend to all, did not fit with having a monster dick that had a severe urge to fuck. Cary looked in the mirror and knew the truth:

He really wanted to fuck some nice tight trim.

Cary was nineteen and fine with being the jolly fat guy.

The world was brutal on fat girls. But the rotund guy with an easy smile, with a sympathetic ear, that was an identity niche that a boy could slide right into. From age thirteen Cary was the Friend Who Listened, who remembered birthdays, who could be counted on for support over text or voice. He had made a deliberate decision to value female friendships. But, High School being what it was, no one had an issue with a soft guy struggling to grow a beard, who could be counted on in group projects, who knew how to keep a secret.

This came with costs. It was broadly assumed he was gay. That was how these things went. But with some positive thinking Cary had seen a way forward: he’d eventually put on a little muscle, find a heavy-set girl with glasses, and wear her down with sincere compliments and thoughtful comments. It was a foolproof plan and, if he had been too shy to put it into action, at least it loomed in a comforting future. An attainable dream.

The working world was happy to have him in the workforce. There was much value in being the token male, the one who knew how to nod sympathetically. The girls were far from unfair about the arrangement. He was treated to lunch regularly. All of their letters of recommendation for transferring to a better college, those were done and signed.

“Everything good?” Evelyn said, when he emerged. He’d slid the offending penis down his straining underpants and then adjusted it next to his thigh. It was getting dangerously close to knee region.

“Oh, sure!” Cary said, positively.

“We think we heard a grunt,” Clara chimed in, from her own desk. They all faced the only window, overseeing the parking lot.

“Did you?” He’d struggled to force it down his pants. Possibly he’d grunted. Did he need to buy bigger pants? Were there pants that could accommodate big dicks? He half-turned. Clara was tapping a pencil against her lips, regarding him gravely. She was wearing a baby blue blouse. Behind her, Jane was deep in thought, her brown boobs held up in a black tanktop. All of Cary’s deep-breathing, and facewashing, started to dissolve. He was surrounded by pussy. Available women.

“I’ve got man problems,” he said. Clara and Evelyn shared a quick, amused look.

“Man problems!” Evelyn crowed. “Oh, Cary. You got your man period? We’re period brothers? Oh my GOD. Man problems!”

“Evelyn, please,” Clara had the grace to look concerned. “Cary, you may disclose the nature of your man problems to us. We will be bros about it. This is a progressive workplace.”

“It’s—” Cary couldn’t seem to stop himself. And it would be easy to defer, joke it off. Something about his ego needing a massage. “Puberty. I thought it was all done with me but guess not.”

“Puberty,” Evelyn said. Her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Harmful… facial hair? I don’t know.”

“A growth spurt? I used to have growing pains,” Clara said. “You don’t look taller, though.”

“Maybe eventually,” Cary said, a little hopefully. That was a nice thought. Maybe this would end with him at six foot three. Maybe it had just practiced with his cock, to start. “But not yet. Just… bits. Right now. There’s some growage.”

“Bits… bits…” Evelyn looked confused, as if she’d run the various bits through her head, and couldn’t come up with an answer. Did they really not know? Or did they just want to hear it from him? “What kind of bits?”

He really needed to stop. He could not, should not, show the bulge of his cock to these girls. Although they needed to see it, needed to admire it. Needed to fondle and suck it. Needed to worship it, until all they were was useful toys to fuck it. He stood up, shuffled around. His dick had popped free of the little cage he had arranged and was trying to break his fly apart. He made a helpless gesture.

“Oh my GOD,” Clara said. Evelyn just mouthed it.

There was a long moment of silence while everyone’s reality rearranged itself. For all three of the women they were now in a room, everyday, with a man with a huge dick. Any lingering boyhood attached to Cary fell away and was gone. Only men got to have large cocks. For Cary, he was now a man with a known large penis in a fairly small room with three women. His penis loved the attention. It was achingly erect. Cary felt light-headed, powerful, incredible.

“You should —” Evelyn was trying hard to speak. “You should—geez.” She play mopped at her forehead. But it was sweaty. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Do you—smell—”

“You should probably go to the doctor,” Jane concluded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cary said. He was still standing. He was going to need new pants. “I should.”

“So how big is it?” Clara said..

“Fully erect?” Cary said, looking her in the eyes. Evelyn mouthed that, too: fully erect. Clara couldn’t quite keep her gaze up. It shuffled between his eyes and between his legs.

“Cary, just give us a number so we can return to work,” Jane said. But she had stopped her endless typing, and pushed away from her monitor, to better watch the situation.

“Not quite twelve inches,” Cary said. “Just a little bit less than twelve inches.”

“Twelve inches,” Evelyn said. Her eyebrows went well up.

“Thanks and congrats, Cary,” Jane said. “Please see a doctor. Lets get the quarterly report done.”

“A little short of twelve inches?” the doctor said. Female doctor. Woman, lady doctor. Dr. Beshy was Indian and perfectly clinical.. “That’s… healthy. And in about two or three weeks?”

“I guess, I don’t measure it every day, Doctor,” Cary said, politely. He’d made a same-day and hustled over. Of course only girl physicians had been available. He’d been torn about wanting some grey-haired motherly figure to regard his balls, or someone a little more… interesting. Dr. Beshy was in her mid-thirties and had long black hair.

“Hmm. Puberty is a time of miracles. Do very long penises run in your family?”

“I… have no clue. Do I have to ask? Or think about it?”

Dr. Beshy shrugged. She was sitting very close to him. She wore a white lab coat and a t-shirt just barely visible underneath. It looked like some sort of band tee, as far as Cary could tell. Dr. Beshy sniffed the air. “Hmm. Is there a family—did I just ask that?”

“Yes, and I said I don’t want to ask my Dad about his dick,” Cary said. He took a deep, calming breath. Talking back to doctors was not like him. He was used to getting praise for being so good about vaccinations. But Dr. Beshy looked—not fully focused. Like she was involved in a puzzle while trying to diagnose. Her mild eyes reconnected with his.

“I suppose its time to examine it, isn’t it?”

Cary felt a familiar slush of embarrassment. As much as he made the best of it, the truth was his body had been hapless from the get-go, a padded and wobbly blob that generated good-natured contempt. He wore extra-large t-shirts almost exclusively. His cheeks were always ruddy. With doctors he was used to cold stethoscopes needing some time to find his heart.

He dropped his pants. Cary had skipped underpants. They didn’t fit.

“Oh,” the Doctor said. “Oh, okay. Yes.” She swallowed.

He was getting hard. Cary looked down. Not only was it still growing, it had decided to add a wreath of pubic hair, again just about overnight. Overall it improved the look—more burly. The burn of humiliation was already fading away. What was there to be embarrassed about? It was a great cock.

He was looking forward to seeing just how big it was, today.

“It’s fine,” the Doctor said, quickly. “I’ve seen hundreds of penises. Although not of this… heft. And size. And you think its LESS than twelve inches?”

“I mean, it was, last time I measured.”

“Then we’ll have to measure,” Doctor Beshy said, a bit too quickly.. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“Oh no,” Cary said. It felt—a lot of things. Yes, it felt really good to stroke. He’d already jacked off that morning. Waking up and masturbating was becoming nearly automatic. And even so, and with another pre-bed whack-off, he was waking up to a half-hard cock dribbling pre-cum. “Doesn’t hurt at all.” Why not tell her? “Feels good.”

“I’m sure it does,” the Doctor nodded. “The male penis is covered with sensitive nerve endings. And this one even more so. I—” she looked down. At some point she had reached out and put her hand on top of, and partially around, the shaft. Her hand was brown and had a silver ring on.

“Oh, I should’ve gotten your consent for that,” the Doctor said. She inhaled again. “There’s a musk, isn’t there? That’s musk.”

A doctor telling him he smelled like a woodland beast at last penetrated Cary’s unexpected lack of shame. He wasn’t totally sure what musk was. He had cleaned off his cock in the shower pre-visit, but that had led to another session in the shower. “Sorry, I—”

“No need to apologize! Men have a—its a VERY normal scent and quite fine. We are all animals, after all.” She giggled, nervously. “Animals. Yeah.” Her fingers still rested on top of his dick, and now they started to rub back and forth. “It’d be strange if there wasn’t a—it’s very male, don’t worry. Very male. I am just examining you. That’s okay, right?”

“Umm—” Cary was uncertain. There had been so much strangeness in the past few weeks. The immediate thought he had was: he’d dreamt this, hadn’t he? He’d been having erotic dreams for awhile. They were all designed by horny teenage redditors, and had the same theme: show women your dick. They’ll be thrilled to see it. They’ll want to touch it. He’d woken up aggrieved at his subconscious. Girls wanted more out of men then a chance at their phallus. Right?

But here was a doctor, interested mostly in his dick. Touching the skin. His dick was at full extension. With its new pubic crown it looked more normal, more filled-in.

“I think my balls are bigger too,” Cary heard himself say.

“I should hope so!” Dr. Beshy said. She seemed to collect herself, wiping at her nose, and reluctantly pulled her hand away. Only to reach underneath for his testicles. “Yes, I see. Not quite to size, but I bet they’re still coming in, aren’t they? I bet they are. Have you noticed any differences in your ejaculate? Not to make any— “ she puffed a hot breath. It lasted all the way to his dick. “—assumptions.”

Had he? With all the other changes, examining his jizz had been a low priority. Cary shrugged. Over the past few minutes, by shifting his weight and shuffling his feet, he’d placed his penis in the exact center of the exam room. It missed the doctor’s fingers. She only had eyes for it, watching it twitch and jerk, trying to get back into her palm. Dr. Beshy traced her bottom lip with her tongue, very slowly.

“We should get a sample,” she said, dreamily. “A nice healthy sample.”

“You’re going to jerk me off?” Cary said..

“I—” her hand was already halfway there. Dr. Beshy had to halfway wrench it back. “No. No no. I mean—I could—scientifically I’d be the perfect —” the lights overhead glinted on her stethoscope. “I’ll be back in a second. You can get started. I—I’m sorry. I really can’t…” she heaved herself off the little exam stool and backed away, blinking hard. “But do jack off, okay? Pretty-please?”

Not long ago Cary would’ve keeled over dead at lamely self-stimulating in front of an authority figure. Now He clamped a hand on his cock and ran his own rough fingers all the way down the shaft. It was nowhere near as good as new, feminine fingers. What would happen, he wondered, if he told her to jerk him off?

“Just like that,” Dr. Beshy whispered. “Big long strokes. I should—measure it. E-excuse me,” she backed into the exam door, and then out.

Cary’s balls churned. He had been aware of their own growth. It just hadn’t seemed very important next to the stiff prong he was stroking. At least it really did feel fantastic. He was jerking off about four or five times a day. It seemed to drain off the very strong, very powerful urge to—mate.. The sense that he should take Dr. Beshy by the stethoscope and guide her mouth over to his dick. Put that medical training to work. Pressure grew at the base of his penis. This was going to be a spectacular shot.

“Okay, I have the cup here for —” Dr. Beshy walked in. He was at full mast, back arched, and popped. A long cumshot spiraled across the room and smacked into the wall. The room smelled like male, saline, and something indescribably else.

“Oh my god,” Dr. Beshy whimpered. She fumbled the cup. “Let me—oh no.” She brought the cup closer, hands shaking. Shot number two stained the entire length of her lab coat, and the third one caught her on the cheek. It was no accident—it felt right to aim a bit higher. Dr. Beshy didn’t react to it. After that even Cary’s new production slowed down, and the final dregs dropped into the cup. It was still halfway full.

“Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry I mucked you up.” He tried to mean it. Cumming all over the doctor wasn’t something he usually did. But it came out insincere..

“Lets—” Dr. Beshy tried to take a calming breath. She had cum all over her fingers. Her hand was all frosted. “Lets have you cum… cum… we’ll see you again in a few weeks, okay? One week. Just whenever you can get back, I’ll be here. I’ll get a bigger jar next time.”

Jane was gone all morning, at some all-firm all-manager meeting that wasn’t even on-site. They’d rented out a hotel conference room. That had been the major topic of conversation last week, how damn dumb it was. As the analyst for the metrics division it was Jane’s task to go to the hotel conference room and present on the idiocy of the hotel conference room to the men who had selected the hotel conference room.

That was last week’s topic of conversation. Now no one said anything, and it was definitely about his dick. Every long silence was a pointed comment about his oversized penis. Even Clara’s outfit, a white blouse with periwinkle cuffs, was an accusingly virginal white. The girls flanked him, and each kept glancing at the shadow between his legs.

Cary was struggling. After each fire-hydrant gush of an orgasm he had the mental fortitude and simple insight of post-nut clarity. Something was obviously medically up with him. He’d reduced a doctor to a whimpering mess of hormones just by disrobing. Although his dick growth had slowed it was still changing in other, more subtle ways. He was certain there were new veins wrapping around it. And now that the doctor had pointed to it, in fact painted her face with it, his cum did seem odd. Like diluted white paint, not the usual pearly ooze. Porno cum.

Plus he apparently smelled, to women, very, very good. He just had to hope it was only close proximity that had an effect.

The post-orgasmic IQ boost was fleeting. Generally he was horny. It was definitely affecting how he looked at women. Cary was increasingly sure he needed to fuck a girl. Consequences be damned.

“So I went to the doctor,” he said.

“The penis doctor,” Evelyn said, straight-faced.

“Evelyn!” Clara said.

“You went to the doctor… about your penis,” Evelyn clarified.

“Right,” Cary said. “Good way to put it.”

“And…?” This was from Clara. While Evelyn had her interest written all across her face, Clara was trying to hide it. It wasn’t going well—she was already nibbling on the rubber end of a pencil, legs fidgeting.

“It doesn’t seem to be an emergency,” Cary said, slowly. Thinking about it, the Doctor hadn’t made any real diagnosis. She’d just stood there, breathing heavily, drenched with jizz. But he hadn’t been sent to the hospital. And the truth was… it didn’t feel bad, especially now that he was getting used to it.

It felt pretty good.

“Penis fairy,” Evelyn said, eyes wide. “I used to dream that the boobs fairy would visit me. Everyone else at my school got a visit. Meanwhile I was sixteen and could see my belly button no problem.”

“Evelyn, please,” Clara said, still scandalized.

But she hadn’t put the pencil away.

The girls were acting… off. But then, how should they be reacting? It was easiest to just absorb, to drink in their flushed cheeks, their frequent glances. There was no harm in it, Cary told himself. Nothing wrong with some flirting. It didn’t mean two women were getting the Dr. Beshy effect, voices low, turning into the horniest versions of themselves. And so what if they were?

“Oh, I have many gifts, my dear Clara, but I was not the product of a hundred generations of top-heavy european milkmaids. Like you. My people did not single-mindedly select for udders.”

The truth was, Clara’s well-endowed chest was unusually on display. The blouse had a number of buttons, but Cary didn’t recall this few getting set. She blushed so hard it reached her throat. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she managed, to Cary. “And if you need any help, let me know.”

There was a moment of awed silence.

“What, exactly, did you mean by that?” Cary said.

“What HELP?” Evelyn said, bug-eyed. “Geez, Clara, I mean— what? Really?”

Clara put her hands up, appalled. “No! I didn’t mean—I don’t know what I meant. If it’s that big maybe there’s some challenges that come along with it. Lightheadness. Trouble with zippers.. I don’t know. I didn’t mean I was going to…” she was overly flustered. It reached a breaking point. “Just jack him off right here and now!”

Cary felt a sudden sense of—detachment. That same unreal sense as when the Doctor first licked her lips, first stroked his dick with the lightest of touches. He noticed things: both girls were breathing hard, fast. They had red cheeks, unfocused eyes…

“I’ll let you know,” he said. “He appreciates the thought. And he loves your blouse.” That was his dick talking. Cary would never have dared. Clara managed a weak smile, and toyed with the last buttoned button of her blouse. “It’s officially over twelve inches.”

“Twelve inches,” Evelyn said, quietly. “OVER twelve inches.”

“And it’s getting thicker, I think. It’s really something. I was going to give it some breathing room in the bathroom.” Had he said that? What was he implying? An impromptu threesome? Evelyn had a boyfriend, for starters. Clara was a friend, they both were.

The two girls shared a look.

He excused himself. In the men’s restroom Cary felt himself a King. He even had a throne, right behind him, made out of porcelain. Facing the mirror he inched down the top of his boxers, revealing first a strip of new curly hair, then the very start of his hog, and then more and more dick. Hefting it out was exhilarating. There was just so much of it. Cary easily silenced all the remaining doubts. The weight in his hands was comfortable and promising. It was so big. A man with a big dick commanded respect—it was at the heart of all human social relationships. Precum drooled off the tip.

It was easy to erase doubts. It would be completely fine for him to nail both girls. They’d enjoy it.

“Come on,” he told himself, and then splashed his face. Clara and Evelyn were friends. He knew when their birthdays were. He was in Evelyn’s book club, the only male to be so honored. They were more then pieces of pussy property. Maybe if he fucked just one, he could treat the other as a friend…

He paused. It had been like, five minutes. Where were his sluts? He’d as good as told them to come fuck him. And they’d said no?

It was challenging to get his dick back in his pants. Embarrassment kicked in again as he went grudgingly soft. Had he just told two adult women to show up in the bathroom to admire his dong? What had he been thinking? A bout of gigantism and an oversized prick didn’t make him special. The glassy eyes on the girls—he’d imagined that.

When he finally managed to get everything tucked away, and went outside, both girls were at their desks. They had wan, hollow faces, even looking down at their desks. Jane had returned and sat, calmly, with her back entirely straight.

“Cary, take a seat,” she said.

“I’ll stand,” Cary said. Sitting was challenging with his current wang.

Jane shrugged. “You’ve been laid off. As have the rest of us. We have two weeks to get our resumes straight.”

His dick shriveled as much as it could, which wasn’t much. “Really?” he croaked. He’d thought—what had just happened? ”And then what? After the two weeks?”

“Then we just…” Jane made a vague gesture with her hands. “I don’t know. Die.”

Masturbation had lost its thrill. Cary was getting worried.

His dick had finally crescendoed at a mammoth, overbearing twelve and one-half inches. That was the good news. It wasn’t going to just grow forever.

The other good news was that he had—filled in. It looked appropriate. Mostly because Cary himself had belatedly realized he had grown another three inches. It had been difficult to notice, at first, because it wasn’t any sort of adopting a new manly body. He still had fresh cheeks and wide, watery eyes. But it helped. A big dick on a six foot two man was entirely different from a big dick on someone in the depths of five feet something. This did make his pants fit even worse, but this was a minor issue. He’d made a few exploratory google searches for pants fitting the well-hung man.

And otherwise it was a full-fledged well-formed cock. His balls were grapefruit-sized and hung heavy but they looked about right. His pubic hair had turned into a wild mane of tangled black hair, but it also worked. Everything about his dick worked correctly. It worked very, very well. It spun up into a firm, commanding erection very quickly, and could shoot a jet of cum across the entire room. He had almost no refractory period. The problem was he had no one to stick it in.

Work the next day was excruciating. All three co-workers were despondent, robotic. The warm glint in their eyes was gone.. Clara had shown up to work in sweatpants and with her hair in a ponytail. It made his dick mad. She was so hot.

“My boyfriend broke up with me,” Evelyn added, conversational. She was very conversational.

“Oh no,” Clara moaned. She rubbed at her face. “Nooooooo.” Jane only paused momentarily in her typing. She had determined to walk out the door after delivering a fifty-page thoughtful report on why the company was going to fall apart and die.

“Yeah! Yeah, You know how you suspect that a guy is just there for one thing? I mean, I knew that. I just thought it was the jokes. No, it was the paycheck. The same night. He claimed he was planning it for some time but that was a lie. How do I know? We have dinner reservations for tomorrow. Or did.”

“My last boyfriend broke up with me in an e-mail, and then he texted me to ask if I’d gotten the e-mail,” Clara said. “When I said I had he put a thumbs up emoji on top of it. That was the last thing he ever texted me.”

“My ex snuck out with our daughter’s birth certificate,” Jane said, briefly stopping her typing. “When we divided everything up. I think he thought it was a bargaining chip, if he had her birth certificate, like it meant he had more ownership of it.”

“Worthless fucking men,” Cary growled. He’d said similar things in the past, but without the deep, bestial growl. That was new. He’d jacked off several times before going to work, and it wasn’t helping much at all.. His dick raged between his legs.

All three girls sat bolt upright.

“Y-yeah!” Evelyn said, shaky. “Uh. Men.”

They were all three looking at him: now what? Sir? It felt right to stand up, put his hands on his hips. “Clara.”

“Yes, sir?” Clara said. No one seemed to hear that slip out, besides Cary. But he did. His pants didn’t go much past his shins.

“Why are you wearing sweatpants?”

‘I—” it didn’t seem to occur to her to say “you’re one to talk about bad pants.” Clara just looked horrified. “Because we got fired and—”

“Because you feel like shit so you act like shit. Go change. Do it,” Cary said. He crooked his fingers and made a walking motion. Clara stood up and walked straight out of the door. He whirled to Evelyn. “Call your boyfriend. Your ex-boyfriend.”

“What?” Evelyn made a feeble noise of resistance. “No, I—look, it’s FINE. I hardly blame—”

Her phone was on her desk. Cary picked it up. She hadn’t even changed the wallpaper, which showed her in a half-hug with some guy the exact same height as Evelyn. He wasn’t quite smiling. Cary flicked to recent calls, which were all to the exact same person.

The boyfriend picked up on the fourth ring. The voice on the other end sounded bored. “Hey, we need to arrange—”

“I HAVE A BIGGER DICK THEN YOU,” Cary yelled, into the phone. He hung up. His dick was wild, red, thrilled. It was also right next to Evelyn’s head. She was very close to it. Cary had started leaving his fly half-zipped, just to get a tiny bit more breathing room. Evelyn was, actually, breathing very hard.

“Thank you, Cary,” Jane said, from behind them.

Cary realized he was sweating, not just a little. Without quite thinking it through, he wiped his forehead on a tissue from her desk, tossed it next to her. It wasn’t all that necessary. Pheromones flooded the room regardless.

Clara reappeared, in a wrinkled pair of khakis.. They didn’t match her outfit at all, and had the look of apparel thrown in the backseat of her car. Cary caught her eyes and shook his head no.

She marched out the door again.

“This resume isn’t going to get it done,” Cary informed Evelyn. His erection still loomed next to her. She wasn’t complaining. Ever since getting fired she had found more and more reasons to pull him over for help. “It’s not even half a page. Evelyn, come on.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” Evelyn said, softly. She hadn’t spoken much above a whisper ever since they’d gotten laid off. “This is just what it is.”

“It’s a half-page. You didn’t even do a full page,” Cary said. “Do it again. Write a full page of your accomplishments.”

“Yes, sir,” Evelyn said. She sighed and took it back. When she thought he wasn’t looking Cary saw her sniffing his discarded sweat ball. It seemed to relax her, a lot.

Clara waited patiently for his inspection and approval.

“I want to say its better,” Cary said, turning. Clara flushed. She’d opted for a pantsuit in grey flannel. “But it’s saying—what? You want to be forgotten! You look like the background of an HR Block ad. It’s like camouflage. Clara, I want you to look at me and say—I’m hot.”

“Hot?” Clara said, uncertain. “I don’t—”

“I’m hot. Repeat after me. Hot. I’m hot,” Cary said. He’d learned to use his eyes to greater effect. If he didn’t blink at a girl, they tended to do what he said. For their own good.

“I’m— Cary, come on. I’m a six and a half out of ten.”

“Did some guy tell you that?”

It was written on her face. Cary shook his head. “Do it,” he said.

“I’m hot,” she lacked any conviction.

“Louder.”

“I’m hot!” It had been awhile since any of the three of them had said no to him.. It didn’t seem likely.

“Why are you hot?”

“I don’t know! I have decent boobs!” Clara kept her volume up. Her voice shook. She was breathing hard, which usually meant a girl was about to do anything he said.

“GOOD boobs and what else?”

“I don’t know! I’m a— s…seven? Seven out of ten?” She waited for his evaluation, tense.

“Lets keep adding. Put on makeup and put on a god damn skirt.”

“A….” Clara had to swallow. “Skirt?”

“You think I don’t know?” Cary thundered. “Girls in pants and no makeup, what that means? It means you don’t give a fuck. Go get changed! Right now.”

“Yes… sir.” she twirled and walked out.

“Jane, how long until the presentation?” Cary said. He knew it perfectly well. He just wanted to shake the image of Clara, properly made up with blush and red lipstick, modeling a puffy pink skirt for his approval.

“Ten days,” Jane said. Cary twirled. As usual, once he got a good sweat going, the girls got very, very quiet. And he was sweating. Not like the pre-penis days, when his sweat was big-guy flop. He felt very primal. Evelyn was very sluggishly trying to add words to her resume. Her tongue was half out.

Cary puffed out a deep, hard breath. He was perfectly aware that he was having an increasing effect on the slut—on the girls. Clara didn’t normally nod her head limply when told to go put on lipstick. Evelyn’s nipples stuck all the way out and she was just outright staring at his dick whenever she could. The issue was, Cary felt strong and powerful urges to bend all three women over their various desks and fuck them into a deep and soothing sleep. By exercising a great deal of willpower, and jacking off a ton, and going for long impromptu runs, he was just about able to keep from fucking them insensible. He was going to HELP them, damn it, even if he had to fuck them in the ass to keep them going.

“Evelyn,” Cary grated. Even his voice was deeper.

“Yes?” they all answered him the same way, especially in the afternoon. A startled, simpering assent.

“How’s it going with your asshole ex?”

“He’s..” Evelyn tried to peel her eyes off Cary’s groin area.. “...he’s coming by tonight. To get his stuff.”

“Do you want me to…” Cary had to put his hand on his own desk. Red spots floated by in his peripheral vision. He had the sense that roaring, ripping his shirt open, and ravaging the women would help. Cary choked it back. “...keep an eye on him, tonight? Pack your stuff up?”

Jane stopped typing. They were all perfectly aware of what was going on.. “That…” Evelyn said, slowly. “Would be so… so… thoughtful.” Her thighs jerked and spasmed. Cary felt a trickle of precum down his thighs. They were all practically panting.

“Happy to help,” he said. Evelyn drooled out of the corner of her mouth, staring at him.

“Lets get the packing done first,” Cary said, as soon as he got to the door. He strode in as soon as it swung open, tossed his jacket to the side.

Evelyn looked very nervous. She’d combed her hair quite a bit, and, interpreting Cary’s interests very literally, had put on all her makeup. She approached geisha but without their panache. A lot of lacquer lipstick, cheeks frosty with powder, and pools of blue mascara. Her outfit was relatively sedate—a linen print and a dark brown skirt.

The interior was a mural of a broken relationship. Male items were still scattered about, including an Xbox that had been stripped from the TV and then left in the middle of the floor. The ex’s items were in two suitcases in the hallway.

“These are your suitcases?” Cary said. Lord, he was already perspiring. He was getting it on both ends—his dick was ecstatic that he’d gotten inside a girl’s place, and Cary, actual Cary, was equally excited about losing his virginity. “And you’re giving them to that guy? No. Get me some trash bags.”

He stuffed everything in and threw the bags at the door.. Evelyn followed him around, handing him trash bags. She kept opening and closing her mouth, uncertain of herself. Cary decided to speed the process up. He wasn’t sure, himself, how much longer he could hold out.

“You’ve been feeling really horny.” Cary prompted her. “Horny and confused.”

“Yes!” Evelyn said, nearly gasping. “Cary, I’m so sorry, I don’t—I think it must be something to do with my breakup but I just feel—so—it’s like I can’t even—” she shook her head. “I don’t know—”

“Okay, yeah, lets have this talk,” Cary said. He tossed shaving cream, razors, toothbrush, and comb into a bag, and hucked it against the wall. Something glass in the toiletries collection broke. “It’s me. I have some sort of musk thing. Makes girls really horny. Plus there’s the dick. Sorry. Is that it for his clothes?”

“Yeah, but he has books… what do you mean… musk?”

“Books? He left his books here?” Cary frowned. “Yeah, that’s my dick. I think I’m spraying pheromones all over you. It’s rough on me too, if it helps. Oh, these books. Hornblower AND the Aubrey series? Why were you fucking a boat nerd?”

“I just — don’t know—Cary, I’ve… I guess I don’t know why I didn’t think… Cary I DROOLED because I wanted you so bad…”

“Yeah,” That left just the Xbox. Cary tossed that one out the window, since Evelyn seemed too overcome to hand him a trash bag.

“I guess it makes girls too horny to think. Alright. That’s it. Boring-ass guy.” He straightened. “Lets…” he barely managed to add a question mark. But he did it. “Fuck?”

“Oh, god, Cary, yes,” Evelyn whimpered. She fell right onto her knees, and kneeled over. Cary had to undo his own button. It was the only thing left keeping his pants assembly together—the rest was overstretched cotton damp with jizz. His dick hovered in the air. They were in the hallway to her apartment, and her face was in shadow, the light blocked by Cary’s bigger body.

He put a hand on her head as she opened her mouth as wide as she could. “No, I said fuck,” Cary said. “I didn’t say blowjob.” His dick waggled. Cary and the penis were in accord. This was necessary. “It goes inside of you.”

Evelyn stared at the oversized tip. This close, Cary was pretty sure his scent was deep inside of her brain, telling it what to do. Still she had enough ability to do basic physics. “Does it, though?” she said, nervous. “I can call Clara. We’ve been talking. You know.. About your dick. She has these hips that I don’t. I want this but it’s so big. It’s so huge, so perfect.”

“I’ll fuck Clara tomorrow,” Cary said.

“I don’t deserve it,” Evelyn said, backing away. “It’s too—you don’t want to. Oh god.”

It was easier to gently pick her up and put her on the bed. It was a sad, small full, with a frumpy marigold design. Thinking about it, Cary and his dick decided to flip Evelyn over and kick her legs apart. It meant he had to bend his knees, but Evelyn would otherwise slam her head repeatedly against the wall. He removed both her skirt and panties with one bunched hand.

Cary examined her ass, then gave it a hearty smack. Evelyn moaned.

“It’s fine,” Cary reported. “I’m gonna fuck it.”

“Please—oh god—that’s gonna be in me,” Evelyn said, staring back at it. He decided to let her leave her shirt on. It’d be a fun thing to rip off for the second session, and teach her an important lesson about how her tits were good. For now Cary lined up his cock with the puffy pink line of her slit. She’d already shaved it down bald, and very recently.

“This is some sort of—magic dick,” Cary said. More for his own benefit then hers. Already Evelyn was quaking and moaning, just from his cockhead nestling right outside her pussy. She had the bedsheets gathered up in both hands to improve her grip. “So I don’t know what’s gonna happen. Could get a little crazy. Also, thanks for taking my virginity.. I appreciate it. You’re a good friend.”

After the first half-inch it wasn’t a challenge at all. His penis, already soaked with precum and shiny-smooth, slid right inside of her. He had a moment of doubt when nearly at the hilt—was there some sort of actual magic? How was it possible that much dick had disappeared inside a petite asian woman? Evelyn, who had absorbed all of this with wide-eyed shock, didn’t react very much until he started to thrust. Then her already wet and needy moans added a lot of electricity. Much later he’d find out that she was trying to say “harder” but had forgotten the word, or any words.

It was good. Cary felt a tug at himself, looking down at the orgasming girl wrapped around his cock. It was obvious that she was his. This wasn’t very progressive, having a person, but it felt very natural. Thoughtfully, Cary started to cum inside of her, and then slapped her other ass cheek for good measure. Maybe a tasteful collar. Or, even better, a tattoo right above her cunt.

Evelyn’s ex-boyfriend walked in. Evelyn herself didn’t notice—she wouldn’t notice much of anything for some time, her world condensed to a white hot core around Cary’s cock. Cary barely noticed either. He’d settled into a nice rhythm he could easily keep up for hours, perhaps days. A good way to think. Eventually he picked up on the shocked man holding several trash bags in the doorway.

“You fucked up, guy,” Cary told him. “This is top-tier A-plus pussy. You fucked up big time.”

The next day Cary went for a long and refreshing walk.

His head felt clearer for the first time since he’d begun his shift from mild-mannered account clerk to huge-cocked girl-fucker. He’d finally stuffed it in cunt and sprayed cum all over Evelyn, and it had made a big difference. It swung back and forth between his legs, temporarily calm..

Something more than puberty had happened. If the size of his cock wasn’t proof enough, there was what it did to Evelyn. He’d expected some sort of pillowtalk after they’d become lovers. It hadn’t worked out that way. She’d really just wanted more dick. Which Cary had been happy to give to her. They hadn’t said much at all, just a tangle of limbs and figuring out the physics of large cocks.

She’d assured him, during her more lucid moments, that this was all great. She’d never been happier. That was clearly true from the way she shook, around his dick, and drooled, and came. Her shyness about her body died off quickly. By the end of the night she’d been wondering if there was room in her ass. And her self-consciousness about her boobs seemed to be gone. She’d taken to rubbing his cum into them. She was sure it would help them grow.

So it was all for the good, right?

As usual when he was unsure Cary ended up at his local library.

“Oh! Hi Cary!” He’d volunteered there for years. Maria had urged him to pursue a career in the Library Sciences, based on his running of the Board Games Group on Tuesdays and regular curation of the YA Book Recommendations. “I haven’t—” she trailed off.

Cary thought to look down at himself. He’d walked directly from Evelyn’s place after eating all of her cereal. While she’d finally gotten to suck his dick. He wore joggers and one of the ex-boyfriend’s discarded shirts. Although he’d been really good about making sure his cum ended up in or on Evelyn he probably still smelled like it. He had to think through this musk thing. Could he go to the supermarket without making a bunch of cashiers squirm?

“I have a big research project!” he said, quickly. Maria, like Clara, also had big dark glasses. She had her hair bobbed and wore single-color blouses almost every day. She’d seemed like she was getting a head start on middle age. “I’ll be in Room 2A, alright? No need to check in on me! Unless you want to say hi!”

The internet was not much help. He just didn’t have any keywords to check. And the library’s porn filter, although not updated in a dozen years, did its best to frustrate him.

“Everything okay?” Maria came in behind him. He waited for the moment of surprise, where she inhaled sharply, and wasn’t disappointed. His research subject started to stir.

“I’m—” should he send her away? He’d just fucked Evelyn all night long, why did he feel a sudden urgency to bury his cock in another woman? “—well, I’m researching… men?”

“What— is—” he waited while Maria put her thoughts together. Perhaps, he thought, this was a type of research. Women, effect of Cary on. He’d need a lot of different girls as research subjects, to see if they all had the same nice and tight pussies. “Huh. If you’re looking for answers about men, I’ve never found any. Cary, are you..?”

“Oh no,” Cary said. “No no no. Not that that’s bad. But no. It turns out I’m definitely 100% straight. I’m kind of surprised too. I was looking more into… kind of… sex-ed-y? But also anatomy?”

“Sex ed.” Maria thought about that. “The local parent’s group took out most of our relevant books. They’d prefer teenagers learn about sex from redtube and gossip, I suppose. But we held a few back.” She inhaled. “I’ll.. help. Congrats on… being straight.. Or not, I mean…”

She managed a weak, confused smile. Cary would have to ask her: how did this work? Was it attraction, to him? Or just a mindless urge to rut?

The books she brought weren’t all that helpful—they were from the late 1980s, outdated, and printed in a distracting font intended to be edgy for teens. They were all written in factoid style. “FACT: The human penis swells to several times its flaccid size when aroused.” he read, out loud.

“It sure does,” Maria agreed. She’d developed a dopey, pleased smile. The Maria that Cary had worked for had cultivated the librarian’s mannerism of being helpful but distant. This one kept inching closer to him, agreeing with whatever it was he said. Some of her blouse buttons had come undone. And she’d shut down the library, so she “could focus on helping out.”

The human physiology book was more useful. But it didn’t match up with what was hovering between his legs, and apparently making Maria silly and wet. The penis in the book was a useful appendage briefly capable of penetration. It doubled as a way to pee. It almost never got to silly, gargantuan lengths, with equally big balls to match. The way he could casually cum, over and over, made no anatomical sense. And why were girls so desperate for it? Not everyone was a size queen. In fact he’d tried to hide his new girth from Maria. Nonetheless she was purring deep in her throat, legs open in her chair. So it wasn’t just a matter of: see big dick, want to fuck big dick.

“Maria, what do you think about big dicks?” he said. No, that was just a bit too much. This was going much faster then it did with Evelyn and Clara. Maybe now that he’d lost his virginity…? Or maybe he just needed a shower. “I mean, do you have any opinions about large penises.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Maria said. She sank back into her chair, considering it, and him. “Mmmm…. Big dicks. How big?”

“Around a foot.”

“Oooh,” Maria’s eyes were very soft and unfocused. “That’s a lot of dick,” she concluded.

“Maria, you want to just start feeling yourself up?” Cary said, considerately. “You want to just start rubbing yourself?”

“Wha—?” a brief moment of confusion that faded away very quickly. Whatever was calling the shots, it was very powerful. Maria was a headstrong young woman, and, within a half-hour, she was lost to something that felt very good.. She started to rub between her legs, with just a slight blush.

“I don’t know—why — “ was all the protest she could manage. “I’m touching myself. It feels so good, Cary.”

Cary came up with another idea. “Cum,” he told her.

She did that, too. Noisily. It was all very instructive.

The internet, eventually, came through. Someone had posted on a dead medical advice forum, years ago, about their weird dick. “Penis doubled in size—normal?” The post history was dead on. “Odd reaction from women.” “Very strange hormonal changes re growth.” Not a single person had responded. The forum appeared to be just a front for improving SEO of a supplements company. Nonetheless the poster had dutifully recorded their changes.

“Starting to think it might be magic,” Cary read. “Or the next best thing.”

Magic..

He looked down. Magic would explain some things. Maria had gotten between his legs, underneath the table. Her mouth should’ve been aching fiercely. It was too much cock. Instead she seemed blissed out, tongue gamely licking at the underside of his cock. She swallowed a lot of penis. Every spurt of cum made her shiver and cum.

His dick reminded him: he needed to fuck. He didn’t feel the same crimson-tinged rush, the blood pounding in his ears, but the need was still there. Perhaps he was like a vampire, but for sex? “Maria, can you— actually, lets fuck first. I’ll think more clearly.” The important thing was to keep a clear head and act ethically. He sat her on the brief library laptop shelf and yanked her panties off. They were far too damp to be of any use, anyway. Maria didn’t bother trying to talk. She just panted, like a dog, her legs spread wide.

After struggling with placement Cary finally just picked her up and fucked her against the wall. With his virginity lost it was easier to pick up on strangeness: he should’ve been slamming his dick against her cervix.. There was no way it should slide this easily, this thoroughly, a wet and wonderful pussy rippling against his penis.

“Do you think I’m some kind of a sex demon?” he asked, curious. Cary bottomed out, for emphasis, grinding his hips into the librarian. She passed out and came, almost at the same time, face going slack as she fell against him. Luckily her body was still on auto-pilot, bucking back against him, and Cary let himself cum. He slid her down the wall, cum still oozing out of her, and left her against the carpet. Cary gave his dick a wag. Alien entity? Magical endowment? Demonic possession?

His predecessor on the long-lost forum had left an e-mail address.

“I didn’t get the job,” Clara told them. She said it without affect, which made it that much worse. A numb disappointment. “They—I knew it right away. They had those dead eyes, you know? They could barely get their mouths to move.”

“Bastards,” Cary said, indignant. They were outside, at his insistence. It felt to him like prolonged exposure to Cary fumes was a bit much. Girls needed a break from it. Otherwise after about three-four hours they tended to sit in place, drunk on his scent, and as horny as it was possible for their bodies to be. They drooled more then was probably healthy.

Evelyn was clearly somewhat—different—after a delirious night getting her snatch stuffed. The good news was, she’d found a lot of personal self-confidence. The bad news was, she didn’t seem interested in much besides getting Cary’s prick back inside of her. She kept trying to sit on his lap, and she kept texting him pictures of her twat. He’d told her to go take a cold shower, so now he was getting photos of naked, wet Evelyn.

“Is it the—?” Cary and Clara had collaborated closely on the interview outfit. Cary was proud of it. It wasn’t just tits and ass—although it wasn’t shy about Clara’s chest. Nonetheless they were business-friendly in a pearl blouse. The jacket was dark black and sedate. The real key was a velvet purple skirt that was both warm and daring.

“No! The outfit was perfect! I was so— but the questions came so fast and I just—”

Cary grunted. It was becoming apparent that prolonged contact with his body wasn’t all that great for the girl’s higher cognition. He’d told Evelyn to go do some math problems, just to check. “Stupid decision on their part,” he told Clara.

She indicated with her eyes that she’d like to sit on his lap.

“I told you. Too dangerous.” He’d gone ahead and purchased an N95 for the girls in the office. Or just Jane—Evelyn was thoroughly fucked and didn’t seem like respiratory protection would help much. Clara had decided it was too hard to pair with her outfits. Jane had listened to his explanation in silence, and then slowly strapped on the mask, staring at him the entire time.

“Then can I—?”

“Of course!” Outfits was Clara’s favorite game, and she’d gotten really good at it. She’d told Cary that she was watching makeup guides, something like three to four hours per night. She’d also unlocked several achievements on her Shein account. Clara instantly cheered up. Cary watched her butt wiggle as she walked away.

He’d done more research into his condition. But now that he was in the world of myth and sorcery it didn’t seem like there was much useful. If it was that. Dr. Beshy was leaving increasingly breathless voicemails about getting him back in the clinic.

He really did need someone to talk to, soon. Just as he’d gotten used to the daily feel and routine of being a big dicked man, and made the adjustments to his self-image, he now had to worry about his rapid acquisition of a harem of fuckable submissive girls.

He’d never thought of himself as the kind of guy to build an extensive gallery of eager sluts. Each one a different but fascinating pussy, desperate to grind against his dick. But already he had two, two and a half if he was being honest about Clara. She didn’t even make eye contact with him unless totally necessary. Mostly she kept an eye on his dick. He hadn’t put that final imprint on her tits, but already, looking at her, his dick said: one of ours.

Cary wasn’t sure how much he could fight his cock on it. He’d thought that maybe having sex a whole bunch would be enough. He’d gotten Maria and Evelyn in a bedroom and spent the night reducing them to tired, happy moans. At six in the morning, licking together, Maria and Evelyn had triggered his—he wasn’t sure what number orgasm it was. One of an enormous amount. His cock was as stiff as ever and generously spunked both girls up with big cum volume. Then he’d walked out front, seen a girl jogging by, and thought: nice butt. Want to fuck that butt. It was concerning.

“What do you think?” Clara purred. For the past several days she’d been trying, with less and less subtlety, to get him to fuck her. Her theory was that she just had to find the right outfit. This one was obviously “horny MILF” and had nothing to do with Cary’s actual interests. Still she’d done a great job. High-waisted tights with a furred tiger print around the waist, white sneakers, a tied off halter-top that she’d thrifted somewhere. It looked like an altered shirt from a Backstreet Boys tour in 2002. Her cheeks looked heavy, almost leaden, with makeup. “Hot?”

“Hot as hell, Clara,” what he said didn’t really matter. His dick, bobbing up and down in front of him, was the actual audience. It never lied. Clara shuddered, happy again. He didn’t resist as she got on top of him, rubbed her pussy against the sizable outline of his dick.

He had managed to solve the dick-in-pants problem. GAP made a pair of men’s joggers that, apparently by accident, had enormous crotch room. Coupled with absorbent fabric it was the perfect pair of pants for the large-cocked man. He’d purchased a half-dozen.

“Clara, I told you, you need to get a job.” Evelyn showed no interest in it. Cary had done a lot of thinking on this, as well. Harems cost money and they were all unemployed. Well, Maria had a job, but it was unclear after a night of getting her pussy pounded if she could or would read. But there were cost savings from having all the girls in one bed, or scattered around the floor. “Off.”

She bolted off. “One more! Just one more!”

He’d spoken with both Maria and Evelyn about their experience of being enslaved to his cock. They’d both assured him that it was really great, and that they weren’t just saying that to get more dick. Although they’d like more dick. Did they feel like—the same person? The Evelyn and Maria he knew weren’t devoted cock sluts, dedicating their lives to servicing his prong without any hesitation. Not only had they both jumped into his bed, right away, they’d energetically scissored within a few hours of meeting each other. Clearly they were different. But then, so was he.

“It’s like…” Evelyn had trailed off. Her lips seemed plumper, her tits a little heavier. “...a dream.”

“Oh, yeah,” Maria agreed. They laid on each other, entangled in sweaty limbs. “That’s a perfect way to put it. Deep, deep dream.”

“I’m gonna wake up at some point and be Evelyn. Like I know she’s there, somewhere,” Evelyn waved a vague hand around. “I’m not this cum-guzzling slut who sexually services a nineteen year old. That’s nuts.”

“It’s crazy. And especially with Cary,” Maria agreed. She still had on tattered bits and pieces from her workaday librarian outfit. Her socks, her striped blue underpants. “I read books and stuff. I only, like, lie around waiting for dick in a dream.”

“Pretty sure it’s real life,” Cary told them. He thought about it. “Pretty sure.”

It was a nice thought, that he was a butterfly who got to have sex with hot women all day.

As usual Cary tried to stay positive about the situation. He had an enormous, possibly magical/demonic dick. Every girl who encountered it, or did some incautious breathing in his vicinity, became overwhelmingly craven for his penis. So the endless need to breed took care of itself. The girls themselves seemed—vacuous, single-minded, but happy. The remaining problems were fiscal and a guy with a big dick and a good attitude could solve that, so long as he didn’t keep adding and adding to a household of cooze.

He could do this. He just had to stay optimistic.

“Cary, what do you think?”

She’d put her hair back in pigtails. Cary wasn’t sure how that was possible—she’d only been gone momentarily. Clara had also changed into a hot pink miniskirt that, even fully extended, didn’t cover her pussy. It was a brief strip of fabric with some frills. She wore a kind of scooped tanktop that existed to shape her tits, in black. It had ‘COCK SLUT’ embroidered on the front in bedazzle gold. Clara had also gone with big hoop earrings and bone-white makeup.

The heels were the key to the outfit. Knee-high fuck-me boots, also in hot pink. They seemed to be vinyl with a five-inch heel. It was almost certainly an illegal outfit to wear, at least in daylight, and outdoors. Her snatch had been trimmed and then waxed.

“Pretty good?” Clara said. She had an actual degree in accounting. A—was it a week ago? How long had it been? — she had been a friendly co-worker. She owned a cat. She had a hiking trip planned in March with some friends from college—all the way across Oregon.

“Yeah, pretty good,” Cary said. He stood up. “We’ll have to…” there was no obvious place to fuck. They were outdoors, next to a bunch of office buildings. They wouldn’t fit in his car. His dick told him: hurry. “Bathroom. There’s a bathroom right inside the building.” If he fucked her against the door, no one would be able to open it. “We’ll fuck there.”

“Really?” Clara looked so overjoyed. She rubbed her thighs together in anticipation. “Oh my god, Cary, this is like—”

“Yeah, I know,” Cary said.. He put a hand on her bare ass. “Lets hurry.” So that made three.

It was getting cozy in Clara’s house.

Technically Evelyn slept on the couch, Maria slept on the other arm of the couch, and Clara slept in the guest bedroom. Cary had come up with this plan to create a semblance of equality in the fucking arrangements. All three girls had to be equidistant from his dick.

In reality they were all in a big pile of dick and cunny in the master bedroom. Master’s bedroom, all the girls called it. The girls found any excuse to be close to him, which meant that Cary slept in the middle of the mattress, a girl cuddled on either side, and the unlucky third at the foot of the bed, like a dog. This did mean the odd woman out got first dibs when they woke up, because Cary believed in fairness.

There were many problems, but the main one was, Cary couldn’t stop himself from fucking them. If his dick had a limit he hadn’t found it. He was definitely eating a lot—he’d gone with all three girls on a very strange trip to the grocery store. All of them had worn heels and flimsy dresses. He’d pushed the cart with his tool banging back and forth against his knees, and put a big strain on his credit card from a week’s worth of groceries.

But he was burning so many calories. When he woke up a girl was typically hunched at the foot of the bed, eyeing his heavy balls, waiting for his slight nod. He’d bounce one up and down on his rod until she was used up, fucked stupid, and then usher another one aboard. That one usually got a load in her pussy, but he was still plenty hard to fuck whoever made breakfast. Lots of oatmeal. Oatmeal was dirt cheap. Cary was eating multiple bowls.

He sort of owned a cat now, by proxy. Cary’s Clara’s cat.

Then off to work. Maria, of the three of them, seemed somewhat more with it, and headed off to her own job independently. But “with it” was a pretty subjective term—she’d briefly forgotten english after a pre-work session in the living room, and it had only returned about mid-day. She wore thigh-highs and abbreviated minis to work. She’d confessed that she found reading “super boring” and “kinda whatever”.

The other two were helpless. Clara had package after package showing up at the house, innumerable outfits and scandalous dresses. All kinds of fetish footwear. Evelyn, the first of them all, was showing alarming signs of second puberty. None of her bras fit. At work both girls found excuses to bend over in front of him, yawn enticingly, or sometimes just flip up-skirt to reveal no panties at all.

Jane, tapping away on her final report, face secured behind an N95, made no comment. But she’d also worn a blue skirt to work. And shin-high white socks. Cary was very aware that she had nice heavy breasts.

He excused himself just to take a short breather from a life of pussy. Even briefly away from them, his body wanted more. Evelyn walked over to the window glass and pushed her tits against it. His dick strained in his pants.

The phone rang. Maybe its another girl, Cary’s dick told him.

“Hello? I don’t own a house if you want me to sell mine.”

“You the guy with the big dick?” the voice was very male, very tired.

Cary paused.

“Speaking.”

The voice chortled. “Me too, friend. Welcome to the club.”

Cary had thrown an e-mail into the ether, containing his phone number, to the mystery man on the ancient message board.. A yahoo address that seemed like a throwaway and had to be defunct. “Are you—like me? Just kinda exploded in penis over a month or so?”

More slow laughter. “Oh yeah. Big month. Hard to believe I was this weenie-dicked guy. And the balls. Big balls. Grew a lot.”

“You ever figure out what…?”

“No, no. My name is Miles, by the way.”

“Miles of Dick?” Cary said.

“No. That’s just my actual name. Miles. Listen, I had to call. Give you some advice. You feel it, right? You get around some trim and you’re just—you gotta, right? You gotta? And the girls are just all about you? Feels like you’re not calling the shots, right? Your underpants are.”

Evelyn was putting on a show in the window. She slipped her tits out of her shirt and pressed her nipples against the glass. They pancaked out, brown and heavy.

“I’m calling the shots,” Cary said, eyes distant. He was facing Evelyn, he noticed. His dick had gotten lined up right with the juncture between her legs.

“No, you’re not. I don’t know if it’s magic—I mean, it’s magic, don’t get me wrong. Look, here’s the big thing I have to tell you. Just keep walking. You try and stick around, it’s a dozen girls in a house, all of them out of their minds addicted to your jizz. It’s not manageable. And they only get hornier, you should know. Once their tits start growing again? Walk.”

“Walk,” Cary said, flatly.

“Well if you run you’ll hurt your dick. You and me, we aren’t runners anymore.” Another coarse, bitter laugh.

“What happens to the girls?”

“They’re sexy little things. They’re fine. They just miss the dick. Look I’ve run into other—not like us, but close. Just keep walking. It’s what you’re gonna do anyway. Every time you run into new pussy… we’re johnny appleseeds, you and me.”

“Okay,” Cary said. He pulled his eyes away from Evelyn with difficulty. She was trying and failing to press her slit up against the glass as well. She was trying very hard. “Thanks for the advice. Very much appreciated.”

“Hey, I’m just try—”

Cary hung up.

“Jane, can we talk?”

“Cary. Amazing timing,” Jane sat behind her desk, as usual. Her N95 was nice and snug around her face, and she talked in her usual steady, sure voice. “I’ve put the final touches on the closing report. Well, I should say, I did yesterday. But now it has polish.”

“That’s—that’s great, Jane,” Cary said. He eyed her. It was hard not to assess her fuckability. Although on the other side of forty the immediate score was highly bangable. Jane had a sworl of close-cut black hair and patrician features, and only a few lines when she smiled, which was rare. Cary was afraid to ask how—affected—she was. She was wearing a jean skirt, although in the darkest shade of indigo blue, and she’d bothered to wear a necklace. Jewelry and other accessories had gone away for his other girls—not worth the effort.

She definitely had big mouth-watering tits..

“If you read the first letters down the left hand side it spells out F-U-C-K-Y-O-U, and there are similar word puzzles throughout the copy. All of them cruel. Also my assessment is that this company is doomed. We were fired because I dared to say how troubled. Now I see I was being too kind. Did you fuck poor Evelyn? She’s been sulking after you ignored her window routine.”

“Ahh—no,” Cary said. Jane’s eyebrows went up. “I got a phone call, from another guy—like me. Jane, what are you…?”

Jane slipped her N95 off. She had coated her lips in pink lipstick. She took a deep, ostentatious breath, and smiled, very broadly. “Finally,” she said.

Now her eyelids were low and lazy.

“Jane, maybe you should put that back on?” Cary said, nervous.

“Cary, you don’t get it, do you?” Jane said, lazily. She pushed back in her chair. “What you’re doing to us women? You’re the best thing in the world. You’re happiness. I just wanted to finish my fuck-you report before I fucked you.” She took another deep breath. “Oh lord.”

“I’m actually kinda thinking maybe this is a bad idea— I sort of came over to you for a breather—”

Jane waved her hand, dismissive. “It really doesn’t matter,” she said, and put her feet up on the desk. She shifted her legs apart. The lighting wasn’t quite right, but Cary was suddenly very sure she wasn’t wearing panties. “If a god wants to fuck you, you do it. You don’t really have a choice.” For the first time a note of uncertainty crept in.. “I mean, if that’s okay, sir. You—you’ll fuck me, right?”

“I’ve already got a bunch of—” Cary started. Jane stood up, alarmed. She felt at her own face, checking for wrinkles.

“I know I’ve been wearing boring outfits but they’re gone, believe me,” Jane said. “And my pussy is—actually, I don’t know if you want it loose or tight.. It’s whatever you want it to be. Cary, you aren’t really going to—I’ve been watching you fuck those two girls senseless. I haven’t said a thing. Please, sir.”

“Jane—”

“My daughter Helen is coming home from college soon. She’s a hotter version of me. Just put one of your sweaty shirts in her room, that’s all it’ll take, believe me.” Jane waved her phone in front of Cary. A raven-haired girl with big juicy tits smiled for the camera.

“Jane!”

“Yes, sir!” Jane said, nervous.

“Of course I’ll fuck you. Bend over. Right now. On my desk.”

She had that last moment of hesitation: really? In the middle of the work day? Out in public? With a dick that big, a man nowhere close to her age? Changing her entire life forever? But as usual it was just that—momentary. Her body started moving before her mind agreed to it, smoothing her skirt and walking her over to the desk. Cary was now experienced enough to recognize someone who didn’t know exactly how to get fucked doggy-style by a big dick on a desk. She flopped over like a folded book instead of arching her back and setting her feet.

For Maria and Evelyn Cary had been deliberate and slow.. But with Clara he had tried something new—just shoving it all the way in without any warning. It was counterintuitive but seemed better for the girls. Or at least, Clara had acted like he had stuck a live wire in her brain.

He wanted to still talk to her. “I’m worried about how I’m going to afford all you girls. Like, now I have four sluts to take care of. And I’m probably gonna fuck your daughter. What happens when it’s eight?”

“I have a…” Jane was losing her composure. He moved her body around to get into position, and she was already shaking. Especially when he did his usual test of how wet she was, rubbing a finger on the outside of her pussy. It was plenty juicy. “...nice big house. I got divorced and… oh.. God… please, Cary. Stick it in me.”

“Can it sleep ten? Twenty? At this rate…” Cary broke off. Why lie to himself? He was eager to fuck Jane. He needed it as much as she did. He shook his head. The important thing was to keep a positive attitude and be sensitive to the needs of others, and things would work out. He shoved his fat prick up Jane’s cunt.

“I think what we need to do is—” but she was already past listening, mewing and moaning. He just had to hope she stayed a little smarter then the others. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to..

He wondered idly when her daughter was coming home.

He had finally called her back. Dr. Beshy had at first made a number of nervous schoolgirl calls at odd times during the day. Finally she had listened to herself stammering, her voice pitched artificially high, and had asserted a small bit of self-respect. Now she only called once a day, at two. True, her messages had nothing to do with bloodwork, and were just wistful pleas for a boy to reach her, but there was only one of them a day.

Although she had been very bad and done a few on weekends, whispering into the phone. “Cary. I’m calling about your big dick. It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen. Call me. It’s your doctor!”

“Hi Doctor!” He’d called her at work, which meant that the sudden burst of heat, the immediate dampness between her legs, was very unprofessional. Dr. Beshy closed the office door. “Sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ve been really busy.”

“Yes, of course, I wanted to—” professional, professional. “I’m calling about your test results. They’re all normal.”

“Even testosterone?” Cary didn’t seem surprised, or all that interested. But that made sense—he had a twelve-inch dick. Problems were things that happened to other people. Those with smaller cocks, or without a nice firm cock to fill them up.

“Yes. Normal. All normal. I guess… that means… we have nothing else to talk about,” Dr. Beshy cursed herself.

The past month had been very confusing. She’d expected to put the strange incident of the boy cumming huge loads in her exam room out of her head.. Laugh about it with other doctors. In the distant future.

Instead she had found herself rewinding the hot spurt against her fingers over and over through her mind. And also licking her fingers. And, by the end of the day, when everyone else was gone, going back to the exam room, sticking her fingers down her pants, and cumming so hard she had to muffle herself against a labcoat sleeve.

After that, she’d realized—she’d kept a sperm sample.

The scent had mostly faded. She kept the vial on a chain around her neck now. It was crude and gross, and she’d been rubbing one out every several hours for a long time. It was difficult to keep her mind on doctoring. At her apartment she had big dick porno on repeat. She’d purchased an enormous dildo. Maybe that was the conversation starter she needed, with Cary.

“Hey, so, strange question,” Cary said, “but do you want to come to my—to our house? House call? Fair warning, you come over, you’re basically a sex toy for the rest of your life. It’s a big decision. Like, that’s it, you’re just a hole for me to fuck. Take your time, I know its a big one.”

“What?” the Doctor said. “Sorry? What?”

The house was very nice, and in a beautiful, brightly colored neighborhood. Out front a few Dads were ostentatiously hosing down their lawns, eyes covertly set to check in on the house at the address Dr. Beshy had been given. It was two stories, and the girl who answered the door had huge, incredible tits. They were held up by a stretchy elastic band, and even jiggled when the girl talked.

“Hi Doctor!” she said, cheerful. Dr. Beshy hardly noticed. The scent wafted out of the front door. It was an animal’s den, wild and untamed. “Can you strap this on real quick?”

Big-boobed girl held up a heavy-duty respirator, with actual filters on the side. It looked ready for a nuclear meltdown.. “Sorry, I know it’s ugly, but nothing else works!” the girl said. “Oh by the way I’m…” she paused, uncertain.

“Clara,” a male voice said, from deep within the house.

“I’m trying to get him to change it to Tits,” said Clara, helping Dr. Beshy with the various elastic straps. “And Evelyn is Pussy. Isn’t that neat? But Cary doesn’t like it.. Come on in!”

The respirator was heavy. Dr. Beshy had worn sedate doctor clothing for what she assured herself was a routine house call, albeit the first one she’d ever made. True, she’d slipped into a pair of very expensive lacey pink underthings. They’d arrived at great expense that morning.

“Let me give you a quick tour!” Clara said, chipper. Immediately inside the well-appointed foyer was an inexpensive particle board table, with a fully naked girl on it. “That’s Helen! She’s kinda new so she’s on relief duty.”

Gobs of sticky cum were slowly oozing down the back of the girl’s legs, and there was more on the top of her ass. She had a nice one, too, a pert rear that was a little red from an obvious pounding. She had very dark black hair. Dr.. Beshy walked carefully around the table. Helen’s head was cushioned on a small soft pillow, and she was smiling, apparently asleep or passed out.

“Yes! Yes, I can see that,” Dr. Beshy said, nodding vigorously. “Relief duty, of course.”

“For when Mister Cary needs to just stick it in someone, he knows there’ll always be a hole for him,” Clara said. “She’s like a—a thing. A thing with a hole.”

“Safety valve,” said the manly voice, from deeper in.

“BEST job on the schedule,” Clara said. “I’m on maid duty, which is second best. Poor Jane and Maria are on detox, which is no fun, and Evelyn is on kitchen duty.”

“How many girls are… here? You all live here?” Dr. Beshy said. The scent was finding its way even inside the rubber seals of the respirator. Or was she just imagining it? Wanting it? Her legs, hidden under loose khakis, were starting to quiver.

“Oh, we are very budget friendly!” Clara said, proudly. “Just one streaming service, and we’re stealing it from Jane’s ex-husband! The mortgage is all paid and we’re mostly entertaining ourselves without our holes so it’s all very affordable! Look!” In the next room, the kitchen, a petite asian woman was dressed in an apron and nothing else. Her butt was well-rounded and stuck out both sides of the oversized white apron bow. Two equally fat tits stuck out either side. She was also bent over a table, but apparently chopping up vegetables.

Dr. Beshy watched the girl absently reach down and finger at her exposed pussy.

“Does she wash her hands a lot?” Dr. Beshy said.

“It’s probably nutritious,” Clara said, waving the concerns away. She gave the cook a welcome slap on the butt and passed to the backyard. A large tent was set up in the far end. Presumably the air was clean, but Dr. Beshy kept the respirator on. It helped, to have something covering her face. She felt—weak. Wet and weak.

“The detox tent,” Clara said. “Too much Cary turns girls a little too silly. Evelyn doesn’t have to ever detox because she was first and got a LOT of him. Lucky girl.” A hammock was strung up between two large trees, and Dr. Beshy could see four feet peeking out, two on both ends.. It all looked very complicated. The hammock swung gently.

“Okay, and now lets go see Master!” Clara concluded. She gave Dr. Beshy a big wink. “You excited? You getting pretty excited?”

“I’m here—” Dr. Beshy tried to take a deep breath, failed. “I’m here on a housecall. To check on. Cary.”

“Mmm, sure,” Clara said. She took a quick step in, gently lifted Dr. Beshy’s tits. “This is more clothes then I think we all own combined! Look, it’s okay. Cary’s a really nice guy. I mean, yeah, you get kinda dumb, but do you ever wonder what it’s like to be happy, all the time?”

“No,” Dr. Beshy said. “That sounds— monot— monoton— that sounds super boring and I wouldn’t want that.” This girl was rubbing her boobs. She reached up and planted a big fat kiss on the respirator canister. She had her hands between Dr. Beshy’s legs, expertly rubbing the damp in to the khakis.

“Clara!” A male, commanding voice. Dr. Beshy turned.

“You’re bigger,” she croaked.

He was six feet something, and still very much Cary. Fresh-faced cheeks that burned an embarrassed red.. A pudgy dad-stomach, and a haircut he hadn’t changed since age 13.. Also he had a horse cock bouncing around in a pair of grey joggers.

“Not really, I stopped at twelve and three quarters of an inch,” Cary said. “Come inside.”

He turned and walked in, then upstairs. Dr. Beshy found herself following him. It was funny—it had all been quizzical, bashful Cary—until the steel of an order at the very end.. The scent of a man followed them in, laughing at the attempt at respiratory protection. Dr. Beshy could feel herself juicing up, her nipples still painfully hard where Clara had rubbed them. She really shouldn’t go up those stairs. She had a career. She was a doctor, not a sex toy. She was not a plaything, joining five other needy pussies. She was walking up the stairs.

Cary sat on the bed—a good bed, a bed worthy of him. King-sized with room for many. His legs were bent, and the mattress sagged under his weight.. His cock stuck nearly straight out.

“I kind of need your help,” he said, apologetic.

“Another… another massage?” Dr. Beshy managed. Cary laughed.

“No! No… no, not really. Fiscal help. Money. I’ve been doing the math, you know?”

He’d brought her up here to talk finance. No wonder she had to wear a heavy, humid facemask.

Dr. Beshy wrenched it off and tossed it on to the bed. She took a deep, glorious breath. It was everything she had hoped it would be—a musky stench, like an entire forest in rut. She lost herself in a long, happy moan. It smelled so damn good. And there was dick for dessert.

“I should stop bothering with the masks,” Cary said. “I mean, sure, that’s your choice, Doctor,” He took a long, deep breath of his own, apparently to center himself. With a practiced gesture he eased his cock out of his pants. He didn’t seem all that surprised that Dr. Beshy had tossed away her medical degree, and probably most of her undergrad as well, to abruptly get a brief whiff of him. “I was going to do this whole presentation and give you a big choice on—anyway, that’s fine. Why don’t you go ahead and suck on it.”

Dr. Beshy—she caught herself. All these girls were exhibiting such advanced intellectual degradation, along with all the other degradation. “It’s Diya,” she said.

She’d only gotten to touch it before. Now she could get her mouth involved. Her brain stopped processing scent as she got close enough, trying to preserve whatever it could. Instead it was all experienced as a complete and total tunnel vision, a world that existed wholly around Cary’s cock. The veins around it, both an icy purple-blue and red-hot. It shook as she got close, and she had just enough self-possession to put a tiny kiss on the cockhead. Then she started slobbering on it.

“Anyway, I think we’re making progress on sustainability,” Cary said. “We just need more income. The girls want to just go fucking but I just don’t feel right as a pimp.” He looked out the window, thoughtful. “Maybe as a team? A strike team of sluts? Four-scorts? Here, let me hold on to you, girls tend to pass out with the first load.” He reached out to gently hold an arm, and then sprayed jizz all over her face.

Diya floated, at peace.

It was such a positive, self-actualizing moment. She was a whore for cum. What she wanted was dick. Her Maslow pyramid of needs, collapsed into a cube.

“Okay, your eyes haven’t rolled back, that’s great,” Cary said. “Anyway, the obvious way to make money is me. My scent, my sperm. You’d do anything for it, right? I mean, you have, you know? You’re just a toy for me now.”

“Your toy,” Diya murmured. There were parts of her protesting that. She’d worked very hard for her medical degree. She’d enjoyed reading books and having intellectual conversations. But all that was sinking into a pink bath, and not swimming very hard…

“Don’t worry, I take good care of my toys. And if you detox we’re pretty sure you can at least do some math. I mean, arithmetic, but still. That’s math. Diya, I need you to make connections for me. You know people who sell drugs. You know women with money. I bet you even know hospital administrators who need a team of budget analysts. Ones that wear little skirts. I bet you—oh, you passed out.”

She was gone, and didn’t even feel Cary gently picking her up and putting her into the bed. Next he crossed his arms and looked out through the window, at all the houses with all the girls in them. “Well, that’s fine,” he said, to no one. “Six girls. I think we can make this work.”

A neighbor jogged by. A redhead in brief purple shorts.

His cock twitched.