Emo CTF Story (Patreon)

I visited a mall for the first time in years a while back, and it was such a profoundly empty shell of its former self it actually put me in something of a dissociative headspace, or something like that. Maybe it had something to do with realizing my childhood was well and truly dead, or maybe it was the existential implication of bearing witness to the end of an era. With all those confusing feelings floating around in my brainpan, I did what any normal person would do, and went into a fugue state, during which I wrote (and mostly completed) a story about an emo guy turning into a gigantic cock. It's still a WIP and I've gotten good feedback on how to finish/improve it, just need to find the motivation to actually do so. Enjoy!

=========================================================================

By the year 2023, the concept of the American shopping mall is a withered relic of its former self, its flesh of retail outlets, fast food restaurants and arcades barely clinging on to its brittle bones as it does everything in its power to avoid tumbling away in the wind. The decay of any ecosystem spells doom for its inhabitants, and many have perished in the wake of the mall’s collapse. The scene kids, the goths, and especially the emos -  All nearly extinct. There will eventually come a day when even knowing what those words mean will make you eligible for retirement.

Today is not that day.

Today, you’re a 20-something college boy, decked head to toe in magnificent black regalia, studded bracelets adorning your wrists, stocking-clad legs planted in a towering pair of chunky boots with innumerable straps. Above them, your altogether too-short-shorts are held up with several intimidatingly studded belts and draped in chains, giving way to your prominently (and proudly!) exposed midriff, your crop-top hoodie showing off the goods for everyone to see. Not that you care, of course. You’re way too cool for that.

You’re emo to the core, after all. The troop of moody, similarly uniformed boys surrounding you are your comrades, your kin, your family (but not like, in an uncool way, of course). You, and you alone, hold the line against the entropy of your species, and every Friday afternoon (and sometimes Wednesdays, whenever your mom lets you borrow the car) you take to the local mall to prove long shaggy cuts, guyliner and decidedly feminine outfits with too many belts never went out of style in spite of the fact they did. And hey, maybe the world should fuck itself and die if it thinks otherwise – Not like you really care what it does anyway.

If you did care, you might not have decided to post up in front of the arcade and scare away its non-existent customers with your blasé attitudes and irreverently androgynous clothing choices.
“Could you please stop scaring away my customers with your blasé attitudes and irreverently androgynous clothing choices” asks the arcade’s manager, wistfully eyeing the nonexistent throngs of prospective customers, who are too busy at homewatching Netflix to spend any of their free time playing rigged games to win cheap plushies. Connor, who

<<NEED CATALYST EVENT HERE>>

It starts slowly, at first.

Connor is just going on about the ethical implications of using AI to create a new Evanescence album but you’re not really listening, you’re kind of just idly watching his fat lips move. You casually wonder how those fat lips would feel to the touch, then how they might feel against yours. Or how about they’d feel moving down your body, planting kisses at every stop until wrapping themselves around… Wow. You’re actually kinda horny, huh? Where’d that come from? Usually you’re too busy acting emotionally detached to get randy in public.

You feel your dick getting excited in spite of yourself, but in a practiced maneuver you casually and covertly tuck it between your chubby thighs. Connor’s still going on, however. He definitely talks too much for an emo. You like him in a totally cool and detached way, of course, but sometimes you just wish you could stuff something fat into his mouth. Or maybe shove something fat somewhere else, get him too busy moaning to talk. Maybe get everybody else in the group in on the fun, get all sweaty and hard and throbbing and uh oh, your stomach’s starting to feel funny. Your core is tingling with a warm, jittery feeling, like butterflies, that is totally not emo and totally uncool. Also, in spite of the fact you tucked it away, your bulge is back, and definitely looking a bit larger than it’s supposed to. You try crossing your legs awkwardly to hide it, and try remembering the words to a moody song that’d totally kill the uncool butterflies in your stomach if you could just focus on anything that wasn’t blowing your load.

Kyle side-eyes you. You’re acting weird, and not in a normal way. Aiden is glancing at the bulge in your shorts that is, against all odds, getting bigger. Internally panicking a bit, you spy the Hot Topic nearby. Long has it served as a haven for the last vestiges of emo culture, and it shall serve again today.

“Are you like, good, brah?” Connor asks as you hurriedly shuffle away from the table, blowing everyone off as you make for the Hot Topic’s changing rooms – You’ve gotta jerk off, and you’ve gotta do it NOW.

You’re totally unraveled now, there’s no way you can keep your emotionally passive facade up, not with your nuts about to explode. Even the customers eye you strangely as you shakily force yourself through the changing room door. You’re aching for relief, panting as you try to force your pants down over your grapefruit-size bulge, finally giving up and ripping your zipper open to free your desperate cock – And two massive, soft-ball sized nuts plop into your hands.

You blink. Clearly you must just be seeing things. You blink again. You definitely aren’t seeing things. Your dick is still standing impatiently at attention though, so you decide examining your freakish new growth is less important than getting a grip on things (said things being your dick) and start pumping like your life depends on it.

Ten seconds. You’re close.

Thirty seconds. You’re even closer.

A minute. You have never been more close in your life.

Three minutes. You can’t believe you haven’t cum.

Five minutes. You briefly let go of your dick to take a breath and it melts into your balls.

Watching it happen didn’t help you process it any better. You just stare in mute disbelief for a solid minute while your brain tries to figure out if it’s dreaming or not. When it finally returns an answer in the negative, you panic.

You grope and grab at your balls every which way, you check your scrotum five times over to make sure you didn’t just misplace it somehow, but your dick is completely gone. In spite of your mounting terror you are exactly as horny as you were before, if not worse. And now your balls are growing again. Calling for help would be super uncool, so maybe you can just kind of hide your freakish bulge (which is now basketball-sized) and slip out the emergency exit unnoticed.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Hey brah are you good in there? You like, kinda looked a lil weird out there y’know, guess I’m just sorta checking in to see if you like, uh… Y’know”. Kyle isn’t doing a great job at hiding his concern.

You swallow your fear and confidently assert your emergency was purely a fashion emergency, your fit is SO two days ago. “Sure, cool, whatever. We’ll just be out here waiting to check your new threads, I think Aiden needs a new fit too so… Yeah, give us a call if you need anything or whatever,” Kyle says, tentatively relieved.

You aren’t relieved in the slightest. You’re now stuck in a dingy changing room with a missing cock and soccer-ball sized nuts.

<<NEED STUFF HERE>>

Your whole body throbs in a cascading pulse, starting from your massive balls and pushing itself up your torso. You clench up instinctively, bracing yourself against the wall as your eyes roll back and your knees go weak. Something gooey is rising in your throat and before you can even think to swallow it back down, it’s gushing into your mouth. It fills your cheeks in seconds, a single thick, viscous strand exploding out of your clenched lips and over your hands. The aroma meets your nostrils at the same time your tongue confirms the taste – heady, potent, and thanks to a few sweaty meetups with your boys, very familiar by now:

It’s cum.

You just blew a load through your mouth.

This fact is not quite as horrifying or confusing as the fact it felt, against all odds: incredible. And that some small part of you (that really ought not to exist) wants it to happen again.You swallow that voice back down with the massive load and try to decide how to panic in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a loser.

<<NEED STUFF HERE>>

And as your torso stretches, your myriad of studded belts and chains follows suit, leaving your waist and migrating up your torso. But you’re not just getting taller, you’re getting wider too, and you can only stare in mute dismay as the slim, lithe torso you spent so much time working on (more like just letting your parent’s genes do the work for you, since you basically can’t gain weight at all) swells and thickens, bloating out around you.

Your impressive collection of edgy belts now serves less to make you look cool so much as it constricts you, trying to hold your surging growth in, trying to prevent your torso becoming even thicker than it already is. As much as you desperately wish squeezing your body back into shape would make you normal again, you are incredibly uncomfortable right now.

Your body isn’t really listening to your opinions on what it should be doing anymore, but it does happen to agree the belts need to go. Another pulse builds up in your balls and you can only close your eyes as it does its thing.

THROB

and a bulging wave of growth cascades up your torso before meeting the first belt, immediately pulling it to its limit. The leather strains and creaks valiantly, and for a precious few seconds it almost looks like it’ll hold – Then it practically explodes off of you, the buckle embedding itself in the dressing room wall. You just stare in disbelief. At least you can breathe a little easier now.

THROB

the next belt puts up a lot less of a fight, but politely refuses to commit property damage.

THROB

the next two belts go as one, and you briefly wonder how you fit so many on in the first place.

THROB

the last belt rallies its strength and makes a heroic last stand that is tremendously uncomfortable for you. Gritting your teeth, you make an internal speech commending the belt for its service in making you look edgy and non-conformist, but now it feels like it’s going to cut you in two and if it would just let you turn into a giant fat cock now, that would be very much appreciated.

THROB

before the belt can reply, your body rudely interrupts what might have been a touching moment, sending its remains to join its comrade in the Wall of Honor.

At least you can breathe easier now.

<<NEED STUFF HERE>>

You’re doing everything you can to swallow your load down but your throat muscles are already turning into more cockflesh. In a matter of seconds, the surging torrent of cum in your throat is blasting past your esophagus’s failing resistances and into your mouth. But your mouth is still under your control, so you seal it as tight as you possibly can, and not a moment too soon. The wall of spunk explodes into your mouth and instantly fills your cheeks to capacity, the pressure instantly hitting a critical point and your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as you rally everything you’ve got against the gooey tidal wave. A few small strands of spunk dribble past your lips but the walls hold, and the tidal flow is stopped in its tracks.

You let out a triumphant snort, but the feeling of victory fades as you realize you’ve won the battle, and hardly the war.

In the mirror you catch sight of yourself – Or at least, what’s left of you. Of your former self, the only part still recognizable is your head, precariously perched atop the massive cock that has become your entire body. Your clothes, torn and hopelessly stretched over your girth and around your titanic balls are the last vestiges of your lost humanity. Your panicked expression is made almost comical by your distended cheeks: You look absolutely ridiculous.

This would probably be a lot more unsettling if you could think about anything that wasn’t cumming. Waves of sweat pour off of you, your entire body throbs and twitches and your beanbag-sized balls ache, yearn for release. Your pendulously sway back and forth, your massive shaft throbbing in frustration.

Every muscle, every fibre of your being is tensing up, preparing itself to blast the sloshing contents of your balls all over absolutely everything.

You can’t hold your load in forever, and the part of you that wants to hold it in is getting smaller by the second.

Oh no. This can’t be happening.

But the worst part of all is that in spite of how messed up, absurd and frankly mortifying this entire experience has been, you have never been more turned on in your entire life.

You can feel your entire being melting into glorious, warm heat. Identity, personality, your own name - It all becomes a meaningless, euphoric, fuzzy feeling, condensing into thick hot goop and trickling through your veins, down your shaft and into your balls to join the roiling, churning load you’ve been holding in way too long.

As the last of who you once were turns to cum, you finally realize what you actually are.

You’re a cock.

It’s so simple. You’re a massive, absurdly oversized cock, you’ve only ever been a cock, and all you want to do, all you ever wanted to do, is CUM.

Your balls give one almighty clench.

You arch up, brace yourself for what’s next.
Your core is on fire, it’s white hot,

And with one, final twitch

Reality falls away

Then explodes outwards

Gallons of hot, sticky spunk erupt out of your head as you

Cum

and

cum

and

cum

and CUM all over the dressing room, splattering the entire ceiling and knocking tiles loose, flooding the floor and repainting the walls, your quaking, earth-rocking orgasm wreaking absolute havoc in its wake. Gallon after gallon of hot, heady spunk blasts out of you in an uninterrupted stream. While your cockhead causes thousands in gooey, musky property damage, your jumbo balls perfectly keep pace in conjuring up gallons of spunk to blast out, clenching and pushing gallon after gallon up your shaft.

All you can do is blast rope after rope after rope of glorious white, gooey boy batter as hard as you possibly can.

Thirty seconds pass and you’re still cumming.

A minute passes and there’s a solid two feet of cum coating the floor that someone really ought to notice.

Two minutes pass and the gigantic cock that used to be an emo boy is showing no signs of slowing down.

Five minutes pass and the floodwaters are halfway up your eight foot shaft.

Six minutes and “Bro what the fuck is going on in-" Aiden wrenches the door open and is immediately washed away in a Biblical flood of boy batter. You offer up an apologetic-sounding splurt of cum, your mythically-proportioned orgasm finally winding down. The firehose of semen dwindles to garden-hose proportions, then a mere faucet, then slow, languid dribbles that finally cease. The white-hot fire that had consumed your entire body fades into a warm, happy afterglow as you soften, your length drooping to a mere 5 feet.

Your friends are just staring in disbelief, their jaws practically swimming in the 8 inches of cum on the floor.

“Dude”.

“DUDE”

“What”

“The fuck??”

“Is that?...”

“It’s wearing his fucking CLOTHES! It’s TOTALLY-”

Your friends are busy freaking the fuck out before realizing every customer in the store is recording and that your bizarre fate is going to be all over the news tomorrow, along with their totally uncool and definitively un-emo reactions.

“Uh… I mean…”

“Ahem… Uhhh, what I MEANT to say was”

“It’s uh… Cool, I guess”

“Yeah, g-guess it’s a uh, hot look”

“Y-yeah, it’s whatever I guess, not like I care that much”

“It’s totally whatever”.

You don’t really care about what’s going on, of course, since you’re a gigantic cock and gigantic cocks don’t have opinions. If you still had a brain you might wax philosophical and argue you now completely embody the emo ideal of a totally detached, emotionally passive and “above it all” personality. In becoming a mindless oversized cock whose' only purpose is to cum, you may have actually achieved a kind of emo nirvana.

Then again, that’s just a hypothetical - As aforementioned, cocks don’t have opinions.

Your friends do, however. Their latest opinion is that they should get you away from the prying eyes and hands of the public. Aiden hunts down the top of your shaft for a handhold, sending waves of pleasure down your length as you start to stiffen again. He finally grabs the tattered remains of your hoodie, still wrapped around your top, and lifts. Kyle and Connor each grab an armful of your significantly heavier bottom half and, bring you up with a wince..

“Shit, are his balls sloshing?” Connor whispers under his breath, your sloshing balls nearly spilling out of his skinny arms. You’re ingloriously carted out of the dressing room as the enthralled onlookers gleefully broadcast your fate to dozens of chatrooms that are quickly filling up with “wtf am I watching” and “fake and gay” and “god i wish that were me”.

Your mom’s car is the only one big enough to comfortably fit you but the keys got washed away with the rest of your accessories in a cum flood, so your friends stuff you into Aiden’s convertible and pack in snugly beside you.

The general consensus is that a hospital probably won’t know what the fuck to do with a giant cock, so if weird internet rituals caused your transformation, weird internet rituals should fix it. Thankfully Kyle has been studying weird internet rituals this summer instead of paying attention in business class, so even if he has a long career in burger-flipping ahead of him, you’ll probably have a short career in being a fat, helpless cock.

Again, not that you care at all.

Right now, you’re a 20-something, 8 foot tall and 4 foot wide cock. A tattered crop top hoodie is wrapped snugly around your upper shaft, its empty arms flying in the warm summer breeze that’s slowly teasing you erect again. (Much to your friend’s trepidation). Massive veins circumnavigate your shaft, down to your beanbag-sized balls, wrapped in a terribly stretched pair of “My Chemical Romance” themed undies. The day is still full of possibility, your balls are almost full of cum again, and your head is full of empty. It certainly won’t be long until you’re painting the highway white. “Dude, step on it before he blows again” says Kyle, nervously eyeing your growth. Aiden is already flooring it, but he’s having a hard time safely breaking the speed limit while examining the suddenly way-too-large bulge in his pants.

“Uh… Guys?” says Aiden, “Not like it’s a big deal or anything, but uh… I feel weird”.

The End