*****
“I don’t wanna go…” Stevie said, pouting as he put on his jacket.
“Your fault for telling me you were a fan of Doctor Who….”
“David Tennant was so dreamy.”
“And I’m not?”
“Shut up, you know you are.”
Unfortunately, I had to take him home. It wasn’t that bad — his roommates were cool with his showing up with a random older guy. Possibly because the age difference was far less obvious lately.
There was no other way to put it: especially with the shave, I looked a good ten years younger. I certainly felt better than I had in ages.
And aside from the gym and the coffee shop, I still didn’t have much of a social life. Hadn’t seen family in a year, didn’t have a ton of regular close friends. The only folks who’d notice my recent transformation were already aware of it.
Knowing I would see him again, I’d left Stevie with the best kiss I could manage (I was assured it exceeded expectations) and myself with yet another nearly ten inch boner. I’d have to take care of that when I got home.
Turned out I needed to knock out two very full helpings of ball juice before I could get to sleep — if it hadn’t been for the post orgasmic vibes I would have been annoyed at the change in routine. Bad enough I had to miss the gym and coffee shop on Monday…
*****
“These numbers are remarkable,” said the doctor. “We will see the results of the blood work in a couple days, but Christ, just look at you!”
“It does feel a bit excessive. I can’t believe it’s just one shot, a couple months ago now.”
“Caleb, nobody else has had the level of result you’ve seen. Your physical transformation is …well, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t measured you myself.”
“Most of me,” I corrected him.
“I suppose we should, for thoroughness.”
“Flaccid: 6.8 inches. Aroused, 9.9.”
“Huh, yesterday I came in at 9.75 almost perfectly. Am I still getting bigger?”
“Possibly. Let’s measure your height again. I have doubts.”
Sure enough, I was at least a full inch taller, now 5’11.
“Damn,” the doc said. “It almost feels like you hit puberty again, but the lab work will tell us whether that’s really the case.”
*****
I had another 3-5 business days before I expected to hear back from the doctor, but unfortunately Stevie didn’t have time off at the same time. In fact, he had an intense project to work on, and other than crossing paths at Cuppa Joes, we wouldn’t see much of each other.
That was fine by me. I had another project going anyway.
See, my little condo was still pretty empty, and I used my second bedroom as an office. But the office part itself was modest – just a desk, a chair, and a tall file cabinet on top of which sat my printer. Everything else was laptop-driven. And – embarrassingly for my zoom calls – the back was full of boxes of old crap I’d meant to go through for some time.
But it also had a weirdly large dining room that had a French-door, into the living room, and I almost never used it. I had a two-person table there (a holdover from a previous tiny apartment) and two chairs, and that was it. So I decided that I’d turn that space into my office, and offer the second bedroom to Stevie. If he didn’t want it, I figured I’d pick up some stuff and make it a home gym – winter was coming, after all.
So while Stevie was busy grinding away, I spent the rest of that day and all of the next rearranging my house. But that was finished by 2pm on Tuesday and I still had a week left. I felt restless and bored, so I went shopping. Cue me at Ikea a few hours later having basically replaced half my shitty furniture with less shitty furniture…though it was satisfying as hell to carry a ton of flatpack stuff by myself. Wednesday, I hit the gym pretty hard, and visited Stevie at the coffee shop after, then finished putting the shelves and such together that afternoon.
On Thursday, I woke up bursting with energy and hauled all my replaced furniture to donate. Still feeling “stoked”, I decided to hit the gym to work some of it off, and ended up there for something like three hours, plus another half hour taking full advantage of the hot tub and sauna. But while the hot tub was empty when I got into it, by the time I got up to leave, there were six other people in the thing. The tub was big, so crowding wasn’t an issue, but when I stood up, I realized that my swim trunks, well…they weren’t really up to the challenge anymore. The bulge was obscene. And I swear, the looks of shock, disbelief, and interest from the various people in that tub triggered something in me. I quickly wrapped myself in a towel and headed for the showers, but by the time I got there I had the father of all boners raging down below.
Thank goodness the gym had individual stalls, because I *needed* to bust one a nut like a fish needs water. My cock seemed bigger than ever – or maybe I was just super turned on for no reason. Either way, I knew I was closing in on double digits and wouldn’t be shocked if I’d hit it that day. The only reason I didn’t use two hands is that I needed one to brace against the wall. I was rock hard and it didn’t take long for me to blow a load that felt endless, and when that didn’t relieve the pressure, I switched over to cold water – that helped considerably. But I knew I’d need to continue at home. If I hadn’t unloaded I’m not sure my pants would have fit.
But it was unrelenting, and returned full force during the short drive back to my condo, so I carried my bag awkwardly in front of me to conceal it. The gym clothes were tossed into the bin as I stripped on the way to the bathroom.
The bathroom mirror showed someone who I barely recognized – if it weren’t my face there, I’d have guessed some underwear model had replaced me. My “swole” look had been a work in progress for months, but I’d really blown up the last few months.
But even that face looked about 30 years old, and if the body in the mirror were an underwear model, it would have to be for the extended sizes collection. I shucked the underwear and grabbed one of the rattier hand towels out of the closet, and pulled the tailor’s measuring tape out of the drawer.
Sure enough, my dick was now over ten inches long. In fact, it was closer to ten and a quarter. And it was so hard that it seemed like it was competing with itself to get bigger.
Friday was more of the same, but I didn’t stay as long in the gym because I was meeting Stevie afterwards for lunch at the end of his shift. For all my love of routine, I could make exceptions to the routine when it came to rare quality time with him.
*****
“Babe!” He bounded over and planted a big kiss right on the lips, right there in the middle of Cuppa Joes, eliciting a smattering of golf claps from the other staff and the handful of customers. He’d leapt into my arms and I had barely registered the weight. I blushed and looked around, but it was only a few people. Stevie wasn’t small by any stretch, probably around 170 pounds, but he really felt like a child in my arms. After dropping from the mid-200s down to 190, my own weight had crept up to 230 with all the muscle I’d added. I could bench about 350, but did 250 for reps these days.
“Glad to see you too,” I said.
“I can kind of tell,” he whispered. “Because otherwise you’ve got a mag light in your front pocket. Do you need to use the little barista’s room before we head to lunch?”
“I’d rather use the little barista,” I whispered back.
“Naughty,” he chuckled. “But we’ve only got about an hour, and I’m starving. For Food!!”
I was too, so I quickly agreed to rub one out in the restroom before we ran off. Say what you like, indy places like Cuppa Joes have either immaculate bathrooms, or terrible ones, with no inbetween – and this one was clean. Ten minutes later I was freshly emptied and feeling more like a human and less like an accessory to my own cock.
*****
Over lunch, I told him that I’d done some rearranging.
“Look, Stevie. I know it’s early days yet, but that second room is yours if you want it.”
“Really?”
“You don’t seem too happy where you are. No strings attached,”
“Fuck yeah, on one condition.”
“Which is…”
“I’ll pay you the same amount I was paying to live where I am now. I don’t want to take advantage of you, or look like a kept boy or anything.”
“I didn’t think you were,” I said.
He smiled and kissed me. “Caleb, you’re a good man, but I need to do my part too. But hell yeah.”
“I took the liberty of getting some basics in there to use as a guest room. I knew you were tired of sleeping on a futon.”
“Do I have to sleep in there?”
“I just want you to have a space that’s yours,” I said. “In case my snoring gets too loud or something. But don’t worry about the rent until you’ve satisfied your obligations for your current place.” Stevie nodded. He didn’t want to leave the guys on the hook for his portion. Even though they’d never fully clicked as friends, he wasn’t mad at them or anything.
“I”ll tell them tonight and see how long they need,” he said. “Wish I could come take a look today, but I’m having a hell of a time trying to keep up with the workload.”
“I understand. I’ll just drown my sorrows at the gym or something.”
“Seriously? You look stuffed into that outfit. Did your measurements go up again?”
“Yes,” I said. “ALL my measurements went up.”
“...fuck, really?” he said, sotto voce. I nodded.
“You know what, don’t tell me, don’t show me. Not yet. I really am that slammed and I have a working session with my group in 25 minutes. My big project is due on Monday and I won’t be working anyway — so how about dinner on Monday night after you get off work. I’ll pack a bag and stay at your place, and you can show me what you’ve been cultivating.”
“I don’t know if I can wait until Monday night.”
“Sure you can. Just don’t spend all your time at the gym, okay?”
*****
I didn’t spend *all* my time at the gym, because of course that would mess up my routine. But I did go Saturday morning, and spent the afternoon and evening cleaning and hauling the rest of my replaced stuff to the donation sites and dumpsters. But the hell of it was I was bursting with energy and ended up running a few miles in the evening, just to burn some of it off.
I tried, briefly, to refrain from self gratification, but that only lasted until I got back from dropping off the donations. Four bags of clothes outgrown, sheesh. I absolutely had to get some more clothing on Sunday or I’d be living out of sweats for the foreseeable future. I tried to watch some tv, but ended up doom-scrolling and before I knew it, I was stroking my unflappable no-reason boner and edging for two hours before blowing an impressive load.
Sunday, I woke up horny, having had several erotic dreams involving Stevie. It took firing off two loads before I calmed down enough to get the day rolling, and I was already cranky because my wanking had thrown off my plan for the day. Angry and frustrated masturbation just isn’t as satisfying, you know?
Sports stores and big and tall were going to have to suffice, and I needed at least two presentable outfits plus some new undies. And that meant I needed measurements.
Travis, the young 20-something dude at the big and tall store, seemed very attendant and very interested in measuring me thoroughly. He was cute in a college way — athletic, a bit bulky, and clearly eyeing me up. It felt kind of nice to be ogled that way.
“So you’re, what, six foot? Six-one? Probably 240 or so?”
“That sounds about right? I’ve been putting on some size so I need updated stats.”
“Okay, big guy, let’s get some measurements then…
Chest: 53 in
Shoulder: 59
Upper arm: 19, lower 16
Neck: 18
Waist: 35
Thigh: 29, calf 19”
I didn’t say anything, but every one of those numbers was at least an inch bigger, except the waist. I was *big*.
“That’s going to be a challenge, because there’s a big difference between your chest and waist. You’d need a 52 long, and some tailoring, for a jacket or shirt. Trousers much the same — you have a healthy behind and big thighs.”
He smiled and said “ and you dress left. For what it’s worth, I think you might want to order your underwear online from a specialty store. Our house brand probably won’t handle what you’ve got going on down there. I have a similar problem,so I can recommend some options.”
Shit, I hadn’t really worn much besides sweats and some old baggy jeans that were no longer baggy. How much had I been showing off without realizing?
“Clearly, man, you work out. Are you even pumped right now?”
“No.”
“Might need to add another inch to allow for that…”
He walked me around the store, and showed me a bunch of staples, gradually amassing a handful of shirts and pants to try on. Athletic fit shirts with a bit of stretch seemed to work okay here at least, but even then the ones that should have fit showed some strain. At this point even fitting clothes was becoming a nuisance. No wonder bodybuilders tended to wear workout clothing exclusively.
In the end, I bought just a few items that mostly fit…and one shirt and one pair of chinos the next size up, just in case.
*****
I refilled my fridge, adding in a few things I’d noticed Stevie particularly liked, though he wasn’t picky about food. I’d taken to buying mostly from Costco because protein was expensive and I went through a lot of it. A stray comment while in line for checkout made me aware that I clearly looked like a meathead, literally, with all the protein in there. Stuck in line, people were actually staring, some with a hint of judgement and disgust, but many with blatant envy, and a few with outright lust.
I kind of liked it, but if I kept thinking about it, I wouldn’t be dressing left anymore in these sweats. I glanced down and realized my bulge was verging on the obscene and required immediate repositioning. I cleared my throat and that seemed to shake a few eyes loose, and I quickly readjusted myself. Definitely half-chubby down there. Luckily the lines were moving quickly.
By the time I got loaded and sat in the car, I was actively and unmistakably hard. I couldn’t waste the time — and frankly there wasn’t really room in my increasingly cramped seat — to take care of things. I basically raced home and got the groceries put away, and then settled in for a serious wank. When one didn’t satisfy, I decided to measure my cock again. If everything else had gone up…
Shit, I hadn’t just imagined it.
I was topping out at 11 ¾. And definitely a bit girthier, too. Over an inch bigger than it had been last time. Last WEEK. Almost a foot of thick cock.
Stevie was going to get a very big surprise indeed.
****
Spending Sunday night alone with a cock that big and a raging libido is dangerous. Your brain does some wild stuff to you.
I did *try* the self suck option, because, well, who wouldn’t? It’s definitely something I would attempt if I could. But I wasn’t flexible enough, mostly due to the muscle I’d been accruing. There are worse problems to have.
Then I got the idea to measure my spunk output. They say a teaspoon, of 5ml, is the high end of normal and I was sure I was well beyond that. And I’d already nutted three times that day.
So I got a towel and a measuring cup, and set about finding out. The idea of measuring this somehow got me hot and bothered anyway, so I was raring to go even before I loaded up the porn. I gave myself a good ten minutes of warm up wanking before I really went at it, marveling at the sheer size of my improved dick and hefty balls. And I managed to aim it pretty well into a measuring cup. A very healthy cumsposion later, once I caught my breath, and I estimated maybe twice that.
Ten minutes later I was hard again, and five minutes after that, I added to the measuring cup. Then I figured, fuck it, let’s really go for broke.
Over two and a half hours, I relentlessly wanked myself to erection, shot, and recovered six times, with 10-15 minutes or so on average between each round. Each round I unloaded closer to a tablespoon than a teaspoon. By the end I was glad I’d sprung for good lube, as my dick was a little raw.
But it was finally sated.
Despite the physical euphoria, I had a bit of post nut clarity. That was an absolutely off the charts amount of ball juice, and a negligible, teenage level refractory period. And I’d spunked nine times in one day. Nine!
My only thought was that I was even hornier when Stevie was around.
Fuck.
