A Little Bigger (Patreon)

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This isn’t at all how I thought things would end up.  This certainly isn’t how I wanted them to.  All I wanted was to be a little bigger.  Now I can’t even leave the house much anymore.  It’s possible, but it’s a process that involves more than a little discomfort, and I never know how the people around me will react, so I save it for emergencies.  Luckily Dan does most of the running, or if not him I can get Charlie.  Or Myles.  Or some of the other guys whose names I don’t know.  The guys are here all the time now; another surprise twist that none of us saw coming.  But they can at least come and go as they please while I’m stuck in this prison with this...thing...between my legs.  I suppose I could cut it off, but I can’t bring myself to take that leap.  It’s not that I’m afraid of the pain, it’s that, no matter how much my life has been altered, I love how this feels.  

It all started just a few months ago.  The changes, at least.  I’d always wished I had a bigger dick.  All through puberty and adolescence I kept telling myself that it would eventually grow, but by 27 I had to accept that the thin rod topping out at just under 5 inches was mine for keeps.  I always did my best to make up for it.  I was a gym addict, hitting the weights and torturing myself with endless cardio seven days a week.  There’s barely an ounce of fat on my 5’10” frame.  I’m not bulky like some of the meatheads you run into who are obsessed with always getting bigger.  I was fine with being sculpted and lean.  There was only one thing on my body that I wanted to get bigger.  

And it’s not like I got complaints, either.  I knew how to use every one of those few inches that I had.  I’m not the most handsome guy in the room, but I’ve got a decent face, and coupled with my body I had no problem hooking up with women.  Any disappointment they had once my pants were down usually faded pretty quick once I went to work.  I’m proud to say I always left them satisfied.  Maybe it was the challenge, or just the feeling that I had something to prove, but I was a pro.  

Unfortunately, none of that mattered.  I didn’t care how many women’s toes I curled, or how ripped my abs were.  All I saw was the disappointing little lump in my briefs.  All I could think about was how much I wished it was bigger.  I tried all the remedies: the pumps, the supplements, the accentuating underwear.  None of it was good enough.  I even considered surgery, but never got that far before it all happened.  

I was on my way home from the gym one night and had swung by my health store to restock my supplements.  I never did steroids or synthetics for my workouts, but I did use natural, herbal remedies.  I didn’t know what half of them were, but as my chiseled frame showed, they clearly worked.  I picked up my usual bundle and was heading for home when I saw a pharmacy that I didn’t recognize.  I walked that way almost every day and had never noticed it.  Figuring I’d at least check out the prices, I went in.  

It was almost identical to my usual spot.  Same prices, same supplements, same teas.  Thinking back on it, it was clearly a trap.  It was the luminescent orb hanging just in front of the angler fish’s mouth, and I was the unfortunate prey.  Or maybe that’s too dramatic.  Nothing forced me to buy what I bought.  I could have turned and walked out the second I felt the creepy vibe, but I didn’t.  Instead, I saw a small package laying on its side on the dusty bottom shelf.  There was just one of them, but the label caught my attention.  It was all red and gold, surrounded in letters I didn’t recognize.  They weren’t chinese or japanese or russian like you usually saw in these places.  They almost looked like hieroglyphics or cuneiform.  What really caught my attention, though, was the man on the label with an absolutely enormous, erect phallus.  I thought it was supposed to be some sort of fertility god because there were other men prostrating themselves at his feet.  

“Uh, excuse me, can you tell me what this is for,” I asked the thin, pale man behind the counter.  He was all sharp angles and lanky extremities, with a shock of pitch black hair standing out against his almost stark white skin.  

He barely looked away from the small TV behind the counter.  “Is for...bigger…” he said with a thick accent that I couldn’t place, spreading his hands apart from each other to demonstrate something growing.  “You drink, make tea.”  

That was all I needed to hear.  Something in my gut told me I should buy it.  There was this nagging voice whispering in my ear “this is what you’re looking for.”  Not wanting to drag out the embarrassing interaction any longer than necessary I threw my money at him and hurried out of there.  

I made the tea immediately.  I dumped the powdery substance into the hot water and watched it dissolve in a swirling array of muddy browns and grey.  It smelled horrendous and tasted even worse, but I slugged it back.  I don’t know why I was expecting something to happen in that moment.  It finally occurred to me that it was ludicrous to expect one cup of tea to make a significant difference.  Even if it worked, I’d have to drink it over time for it to build up.  All I’d do with one cup is piss most of it out, and one cup was all I had enough for.  

The next morning I learned how wrong that assumption was.  I woke up painfully hard with my aching tool sticking out through the fly of my briefs.  With one look I knew it was bigger.  When you’d obsessed about it as long as I had, you were intimately familiar with every centimeter.  I still remember that thrill when I stumbled out of bed, practically tearing out of my briefs, and ran for the tape measure.  My hands were shaking so hard I could barely pull the tape out, and sure enough, I now measured in at just over six inches.  Only a few hours before I’d been less than five.  And it was thicker, too.  I must have stared at it for a solid ten minutes.  I ran to the bathroom and turned this way and that to get a look from every angle in the mirror.  I bounced the rigid pole up and down, marveling at how just an inch made it feel so different.  It was just average, but to me it felt massive.

When I finally gave in and wrapped my hand around it for some much needed tension relief, I learned that not only had it grown larger, it had become more sensitive.  My knees actually buckled and I had to grab the counter for support.  It was like the first time I’d ever jerked off all over again.  I usually wasn’t overly vocal when I masturbated, but I was glad I lived alone because that morning I was howling.  I couldn’t help it.  And when I finally came, it was like a shotgun.  I sprayed with more force than I ever had before, coating the bathroom wall.  

I still wasn’t concerned.  The only thing I felt as I got dressed for work that morning was elated at the sight of the stuffed bulge in my briefs.  When my enlarged cock had finally gone soft, I was pleasantly surprised to see I’d developed the kind of hefty banana hang that I’d always envied on other guys.  I practically skipped into the office that morning.  After a few hours, I knew something wasn’t right.  I’d been semi-hard all morning and trying to ignore it, but my underwear was feeling tighter and tighter.  The constant tightness only further tantalized my sensitive rod, causing it to throb and start the cycle all over again.  I couldn’t ignore it anymore.  I grabbed a file to carry in front of my crotch so I could hide the tent and hurried into the bathroom.  

Luckily there was no one else in there to hear my loud gasp when I fumbled my pants open.  I was still growing.  The solid piston that shot out  was almost twice as thick as it had been, and though I didn’t have my measuring tape, I could tell it was at least an inch longer.  And it wouldn’t be ignored.  I shivered as soon as the air hit it and had to shove a fist in my mouth to keep from groaning.  I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pumped away as quickly and quietly as possible.  It was a good thing I’d sat down because when I came that second time I saw stars.  If I hadn’t been biting my fist so hard I almost drew blood, I’d have screamed.  The thick bundle of toilet paper I’d been holding was sopping.  I only went back to my desk long enough to email my boss and say I was going home sick.  I never thought it would be the last time I’d set foot in there.  

Instead of going straight home I headed for where the new supplement store had been.  I needed to ask what exactly it was that I’d drank and how long it would take to work itself through my system.  After almost an hour of increasingly frantic circling, I thought I was starting to go crazy.  The store was gone.  Not closed, like it had gone out of business, but missing entirely.  The block that it had been on was nothing but a decaying clump of abandoned buildings.  What had been the storefront the night before was now a series of shattered, boarded up windows.  It was clear nothing had been there for a considerable amount of time.  

I didn’t understand it.  I sat in my car, staring at the empty building until the pressure at my crotch was becoming too much.  I was still growing.  I’d popped out of my briefs, and the long, thick member now so clearly outlined against my pant leg was noticeably longer.  A growing damp spot was forming at my thigh so I sped back home, not wanting to risk an eruption behind the wheel.  I was barely in the door before I had my clothes off.  My memories here get a little hazy.  I think I was in shock.  I remember extending the tape from the tape measure over and over again, as if the numbers would change.  I was over eight inches at that point, and starting to become so wide I could barely close my hand around it.  My smallish balls were changing as well.  They were starting to puff like balloons being inflated.  I staggered up to my bed, the growing monster dripping steadily as it bounced with each step.  I didn’t even have to touch it that time.  I was a few steps from my bed when it just blew on its own like a geyser.  I made it the last few steps to the mattress and passed out.  

It was Dan that woke me a few hours later.  I came to hearing the sound of a voice in my house.  Outside, the sun had gone down and everything was pitch black.  

“Vic!  Yo, Vic!  You in here, man?”  Dan called from the kitchen.  We’d been friends for twenty years, so our houses were basically each other’s.  We came and went as we pleased.  This was the first time I ever regretted that.

“Up here,” I called weakly, still in a daze.  I heard his steps come up the stairs as the hall light flicked on outside my bedroom door.  

“You okay?  You didn’t answer your phone and you weren’t at the gym so,” he paused outside the darkened room, his voice lowering.  “Oh, shit, sorry man, are you sick?”  It happened too fast for me to stop.  Not that it would have done any good.  It would have happened eventually anyway.  Dan reached in and turned the light on, giving him a clear view of my naked body on the bed.  “JESUS CHRIST!  WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”  

I hadn’t seen it yet either, but now we were both face-to-face with the impossible sight of the club standing up between my legs.  It was over a foot long and as thick as my forearm.  

“What...fuckin’ hell man...what did you do to yourself?”  Dan’s eyes were saucers as he stared.  

I stammered out the story as I knew it.  I told him about the shop and the tea, and the shop disappearing.  The whole time my huge monster begged for attention.  Even with Dan, who I thought no more about being naked around than I did myself, I was embarrassed.  It pulsed and oozed and I prayed that I wouldn’t have another explosion in front of him.  

For his part, the more I talked, the more Dan’s expression changed.  His eyes went back to their normal size and he was starting to look more amused than anything.  “I...I don’t even know what to say,” he laughed awkwardly.  He slowly approached the bed, still not looking away from my massive organ.  “I mean...does it hurt?”  

I shook my head.  “No...it’s crazy sensitive, but it’s not painfuuuuhhhh” I whimpered when Dan unexpectedly reached out and tentatively grabbed it.  His large hand wasn’t able to close around it.  “Dude!  Come on...don’t…” I panted as I oozed even harder.  

“Sorry,” Dan said almost absentmindedly.  “I just don’t believe it.  It’s….huge!  I can’t even…” 

I was too shocked to say anything when Dan undid his pants and fished his own girthy hose free. I’d always been envious of him.  He was every bit as sculpted as myself, only he had the perfect, sparkling teeth and amazing cheekbones to go with it, not to mention a thick, seven inch dick of his own.  Those seven inches were hard and pointing at me as he continued to gape.  For once that impressive endowment of his finally looked small compared to mine, but I wasn’t as happy about that as I thought I’d be.  

“What the fuck are you doing, dude?!”  I started to get up, but Dan grabbed me again, causing a spasm that pushed me flat onto my back.  “Fuck, Dan, why are…”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so….perfect.”  If I hadn’t been so overcome by what I was feeling, I would have been floored by what he said.  His eyes were glassy as he stroked me with one hand, then the other.  I could only clutch at the sheets and arch my back while he worked me in his hands, grinding his own tiny-feeling cock against my huge new growth.  I could feel things shifting inside me.  Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.  The more he stroked the less I saw Dan as my friend and the more I saw him as drop-dead gorgeous.  The sculpted pecs straining against his tight shirt, the huge biceps that flexed while he pumped me, the flat abs that I could see above his open pants; it all hit me like a wave.  

I could tell it was hitting Dan, too.  He was starting to look at the rest of my buff, naked body the way he looked at my oozing club.  Without looking away, he pushed his pants and boxer briefs free and clambered up onto the bed, stripping out of his shirt as he did so.  He was like an animal.  We both were.  He fell forward, kissing my neck violently and squirming his well-muscled torso against the throbbing organ pinned between us.  I clutched desperately at the coiled muscles of his broad back while I oozed a steady stream.  Dan slid down to lick around my obscenely wide head and run his tongue all over my long shaft.  The horror of it was finally sinking in.  No more blowjobs for me.  No more regular sex, either.  There wasn’t a mouth or human orifice big enough to handle me now.  All I’d wanted was to be a little bigger, but now I’d priced myself out of the market, as it were.  I wasn’t big; I was freakish.  I was trying to wrap my head around this terrible realization when I blew again.  

When I came to, it was to a flurry of mouths on my body.  I was still on my now-sopping bed, but I lifted my dazed head to see a naked Charlie and Miles in bed with Dan and I.  Later, when we were all more coherent, I would learn that Dan had called them earlier to come over and watch the game and they’d found us going at it in a frenzy.  They’d been more than a little confused at first, but like Dan, they quickly succumbed to whatever force was at work.  I watched Charlie’s broad, stocky shoulders flex as the burly little ginger buried his face against my inflated balls.  They were so big now that you could palm each one in a separate hand.  I screamed when he slid upwards, writhing his furry torso against my even-larger cock.  I was in no position to measure, but the tip now reached the bottom of my chest.  Charlie was using every one of his beefy muscles to work me, his own squat, pudgy cock seeming insignificant.  

The difference between his furry body and Dan’s smooth frame was like night and day.  I was gasping and panting, hardly able to breathe from the intensity of it.  It was through this haze that I saw the full effects of what was happening.  While Charlie took up the bulk of my attention, Dan and Miles were going at each other.  I could barely believe my eyes when I saw Dan’s perfect, gym-built body on all fours while Miles’ lean, runner's build plowed into his perky, solid cheeks.  All three of them were covered in the remnants of my oozing emanations and they all had the same glassy eyed, stoned expression.  

We didn’t stop for two days.  The next 48 hours passed in a haze of bodies and mouths and sticky fluid.  I kept getting bigger and bigger through it all, to the point where I could start to lick myself as it reached the level of my chin.  It shouldn’t have been physically possible to support something that size, but as far as my body was concerned it was all totally normal.  At least until I stood for the first time and almost fell forward.  My enormous new balls threw my gait off and my new hose hung like a fire hydrant down past my knees.  

That was all several months ago.  Since then, Dan, Charlie and Miles hardly ever leave my side.  They’re addicted to this giant cock of mine.  We’ve all been permanently changed.  None of us have been to the gym since this started, but our bodies are still just as sculpted.  It’s like we’ve been locked in place, and it’s all because of the pendulous log between my legs.  Just being around it is enough to affect other men, but once they get my oozing fluid on them it’s like an aphrodisiac.  They paw at each other and me in a lustful haze, like harem girls hooked on opium.  Instead of their old routines of work and the gym, the guys spend their days mostly as one big cuddle puddle, always wanting their naked bodies to be in contact.  And, like any addict needing a fix, every so often they converge on me, working me up into eruption after eruption.  

We’ve finally got it under control, to a point.  Now, men pay to come and prostrate themselves before me, hoping to get a taste for themselves.  One of the guys will go out and come back with a new member for our expanding cult.  It’s always the same.  Gay or straight, it doesn’t matter.  One look at the long, impossibly huge cock standing the length of my torso and they fall under the spell.  Their clothes come off, their own insignificant little rods become rock hard, and they start begging.  The other guys will move in and it turns into a sweating, writhing mass of muscle and bodies.  If the man is deemed worthy, they get to wrap themselves around my gargantuan column.  It takes a person’s whole body now.  Gone are the days of using hands;  now a man has to wrap both his arms around the oozing trunk.  

Looking at the men prostrating themselves before me, I understand the picture on the wrapper now.  Whatever I’ve become, the word is spreading.  Men are coming from far and wide to join our ranks.  I don’t even know if I’ve stopped growing.  Whenever I think about ending this, about going and getting help somehow, that same voice I heard urging me to buy the powder in the first place always stops me.  I can’t resist it.  So that leaves me stuck in this freakish body with a growing sect of men worshiping whatever it is that I’ve become the living embodiment of.  I know that sounds crazy, but that’s what those men on the wrapper were doing.  They were worshiping something.  

I know I technically asked for this, but I never wanted to be trapped in this prison of flesh and lust.  I just wanted to be a little bigger.