Food of Love

(c) 2009 Josef Howard

“A toast, then, to new romantic adventures,” Brice offered, his wildly muscular arm raised over the dinner table laden with an elaborate feast. His lover, Ali, grinned and raised his outrageously large arm in unison, and Mark, their new roommate, slightly inebriated from the pre-dinner cocktails, joined them.

Mark was still not sure what he was letting himself in for having agreed to be roommates with the hugely muscular gay couple he had met at the gym and chummed with for the last few months. But last week his girl friend had dumped him, putting him out of their shared apartment and turning him into a serial sofa sleeper, spending a night or two at each of his male friends’ homes. Finally he’d run out of friends to impose upon.

Mark had known Brice and Ali for several years, since he joined the gym in the Mission District. Brice and Ali worked out all the time, it seemed, because it didn’t matter when Mark went to the gym. He always saw them there. It was a serious gym, filled with many talented amateurs and the occasional visiting pro, but Brice and Ali outshone them all. They were the biggest men in the gym, spotting each other as they lifted unbelievable weights to the astonishment of the rest of the regulars. Yet Brice and Ali were not aloof. They made friends with everyone, although Mark suspected they were auditioning every guy they spoke to as a potential sexual conquest the two of them might ensnare and share.

When Brice and Ali heard about his predicament they offered to let him stay with them. They had a huge house. There was no reason he couldn’t sleep in one of their guest rooms for a few weeks.

Tonight, the first night of the new arrangement, Brice and Ali had cooked a feast for the three of them. It was as they sat down to eat that Brice raised his glass to toast.

Even a straight man like Mark had to admit they were a striking couple. Brice was a dirty blond with wide jaw, a button nose, a constant five o’clock shadow and chest hair that couldn’t be kept inside any shirt he wore. Ali was a classically beautiful African man, but with light blue eyes. Their physiques were practically cartoonish. Although Mark had spent very little time browsing muscle magazines, because he wasn’t particularly interested in getting really big, he knew that both Brice and Ali were bigger than any of the current champions. Brice admitted to having 25 inch arms, cold. Ali acceded to breaking 26 inches a few months ago. He’d watched them bench 900 pounds for five sets of twelve more times than he could remember.

Although the quantities of food they feasted on that evening exceeded the gastronomic capabilities of six normal men, every dish fit with the slavish diet of a serious bodybuilder. Mark had never followed a diet as strictly as he knew he should. He figured after a few weeks of eating with Brice and Ali he’d probably cut up and put on ten pounds.

Not that Mark needed to improve his appearance. He lifted mostly to improve his athletic abilities in other sports, so he didn’t get huge, but still he had tightened his muscularity, developed washboard abs and generous proportions that titillated men who enjoyed other men. Even before he started lifting Mark had attracted gay men like picnics attract ants.

Across the dinner table his hosts’ across the dinner table as brightly as the candle light glinting off the silver. As Mark looked at the two of them looking at him, he considered what it might be like to be sandwiched between the two of them – not that he was sexually attracted to men, but their bodies were so outrageously powerful it was hard not to think of them sexually. Mark wondered what they looked like with each other, what they did, how their faces looked strained in ecstasy. It didn’t help that it had been several days since he’d slept with his ex and was in no shape emotionally to meet other women.

There were plenty of extra bedrooms in the mansion, but the one Brice and Ali chose for Mark was arguably the most spectacular. It had been a conservatory originally. It was built entirely of glass on the roof of the house with a view of the City in all directions. A pedestal bed situated in the center of the room made Mark feel as though he were part of some citywide window display. One had to be very comfortable with ones appearance to walk around the room at night when the lights were still on.

The bright city lights kept Mark awake longer than usual and made him sleep more lightly than usual. Deep into the night Mark heard a floor board creak. He opened his eyes. In the shadows near the door stood a massive silhouette, a bare-chested man-mountain in boxer shorts with almost no neck.

“Just checking on you.” It was Brice’s voice. “Do you need anything?” He stepped closer.

Before Mark could decide how to answer, Brice stepped closer. It was a hot evening and Mark had been sleeping with the covers pulled back. Brice took his engorged cock, visible through his white jockey shorts, as a yes. He walked closer, his own dick long enough to hang out beyond the bottom of his boxer short leggings, bouncing in front of him. It was another way Brice and Ali intimidated their straight friends. Not even the straightest man could take his eyes off their boa constrictor cocks as they walked from the showers to the lockers. Mark had considered himself gifted before he met the two of them.

Brice crawled up from the foot of the bed between Mark’s legs, warming his cock with hot breath through Mark’s shorts. By the time Brice pulled down the waistband of Mark’s shorts, Mark’s long, fat dick was standing straight up, presenting itself, and Brice made a show of devouring it full staff in one gulp, taking Mark’s breath away.

It was an open secret that gay men gave better head than women because they had both enjoyed and entertained the plumbing, and Brice confirmed the myth. At first Mark kept his eyes closed and thought about women, but the job Brice was doing was so good, Mark couldn’t resist opening them and watching the man’s mouth slide up and down his delighted cock. Between deep lunges burying it down his throat, Brice spent what felt like hours licking and sucking on just the head, digging under the foreskin with his tongue, and making Mark hard as a nail and making his dick feel like a balloon about to burst. Brice finally began a series of full cock slurping sucks that made Mark’s heart pound until the cum burst from his balls.

The next morning not a word or even a sideways glanced passed between Brice and Mark. It was as if nothing had ever happened, yet the following night Mark had hardly even climbed into bed before Ali was standing next to his bed, his long, thick cock rising between them, his hands pulling back the covers to unveil Mark’s prick, rock hard in anticipation.

Ali was every bit as skilled with his mouth as Brice, a fact that made Mark fantasize about the two of them in sixty-nine, vigorously devouring each other’s enormous cocks with uncommon skill, and brought him to a climax far quicker than he wanted..

But Ali didn’t stop there. After rolling Mark’s tingling soft cock around his hips and thighs with his large hands awhile, after he sensed Mark’s dick beginning to swell once more, Ali began to finger Mark’s ass. At first he stayed outside, giving Mark just enough anal pleasure to inflate his spent prick, but not long after he had Mark back in his mouth, his thick, warm thumb poked past Mark’s sphincter and massaged his prostrate gland.

It wasn’t the first time Mark had had a finger up his ass. Hell, just about ever woman he’d slept with knew that trick. But Mark suspected that when a man like Ali put a digit up an ass, he was halfway to plugging that orifice with a different extremity. Yet, the combination of Ali’s thumb and his mouth was so hot, Mark didn’t want to stop him.

Only when Ali pulled back and he saw the enormously muscular dark-skinned man lit by the dim city lights, his impossibly large cock swollen and pointing up past the bottom of his pecs, only then did a shiver of fear shake Mark’s body. But the touch of Ali’s thumb at the door to Mark’s ass as Ali found his way in the dark reminded Mark of the pleasure possibilities.

As Ali raised and spread Mark’s legs, Mark had an out of body sensation, as though this wasn’t him this was happening to, as wide as his ass was stretched around the head of Ali’s cock. And when Ali propped himself up with his hands on either side of Mark’s shoulders, Mark began feeling up Ali’s impressively muscular arms, something he could never have pictured himself wanting to do before now.

The heat in Mark’s loins rose as he opened to Ali’s slow advance. Through the intense shivers of pleasure that radiated from his ass, Mark barely noticed how hard and wet his cock had become. He could feel his balls sucked tight against his groin. He could feel his purplish prick straining against his abs, but mostly he felt the monstrous member pressing deeper.

Ali shook his head once as he bottomed out inside his roomy, then slowly allowed himself to fall back, leaving Mark hungry for another assault with every inch that vacated him.

Even in the relative darkness Mark could see how insanely Ali’s muscles bunched and tightened as he fucked him, and the vicarious pleasure of penetrating someone intensified the pleasure of getting fucked.

Their sexual rhythm built into an incredible buzz that rose and rose until Mark felt himself emptying his jism spontaneously, spraying his chest, his chin and his face.

Before he had stopped, Ali had caught up and he felt a rush of warm liquid spraying inside him.

After a slow retreat from his ass, Ali kissed Mark’s wet belly lightly and left the room as quietly as he’d entered.

So began a repeating pattern of nocturnal visits by one or the other of Mark’s new roommates. As much as Mark loved women, he found he loved the sex with Brice and Ali even more

As Mark anticipated, the food his new roommates fed him, began to show on his body. Or maybe it was just that he was putting more time in the gym now that he wasn’t dating. Whatever the reason, Mark’s pants began to get tighter in the ass and the legs. His shirtsleeves felt constricting and even with the top button open, his shirts impinged on his neck. Mark didn’t want to be really big, but he had to admit it felt sexy to be growing, to be getting hard all over his body.

His slow physical improvements made him feel more worthy of the studly couple’s nightly visits. The only thing he couldn’t understand was why their physical attentions never spilled over into the daylight. Mark often found himself lingering near them as they passed in the hall and enjoying their friendly embraces more than he had before, but he never sensed they acknowledged the physical nature of their relationship when they were clothed.

Was it possible that neither of them knew that the other visited him every night. Admittedly the alternation between the two of them was not perfectly symmetrical, lending the appearance that they might not be sharing him by mutual consent, but if neither knew of the other’s activities, how was it possible that the two of them had never arrived in the bedroom by chance on the same night?

Yet the lack of daylight acknowledgement made the situation easier for Mark emotionally. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to have a real relationship with another man, and surely if they acknowledged him in their home, it would eventually lead to obvious overtures in the gym in front of their mutual friends. For now he could deflect the prurient inquiries of his straight gym buddies about his living arrangement by simply saying Brice and Ali’s sexuality wasn’t a problem for him, even if he had exceeded the original agreed timeframe for staying with them.

Still his friends at the gym were suspicious. The changes in Mark’s body were beginning to be more noticeable. At first his muscles had merely been tight cords that bunched when he moved. Now they were bulbous masses of sinew that bulged through his clothes and threatened to burst seams. Both his arms and his neck broke the 20 inch mark. Another mark passed merely because his size was important enough that he measured himself and spoke about it. The changes on top of Mark’s already stunning frame drove women and gay men crazy, but Mark had no eyes for either. The gay men understood him to be straight. The women understood him to be on the rebound. On some level this transformation into a man more like his two roomies seemed to imply a closeness of spirit. Or at least a shared purpose or pharmacological regime.

His straight friends could talk openly about his muscular growth, but none of them could bring themselves to mention the spectacularly obvious growth of the meat between his newly thick thighs. They couldn’t understand how that could be affected by diet and workout. Mark couldn’t either, but he didn’t care. It was another change that made him feel more confident, more worthy of his roomies’ attentions. It obviously delighted both Brice and Ali, and their reaction made Mark half suspect that he might be capable of driving a wedge between the two of them, not that he wanted to.

There was one final change that no one but Mark noticed, with the exception of Brice and Ali, who never spoke of it. That was the matter of his “loads”. Whenever Mark came, and he came much more frequently now, he came much, much longer, and the volume of spunk he expelled was far beyond anything he had thought was humanly possible.

No matter how much he came, Brice and Ali drank it all, whether it fired down their throats our whether they lapped it up from his chest, arms and face.

The changes accelerated when Brice and Ali invited Mark to train with them. He could only lift half their poundage at first, but the psychological push of lifting with the two of them and seeing how easily they controlled all that iron drove him to try harder. Every time he left the gym his muscles felt stretched larger than they had ever been before, filled with so much blood he could hardly bend.

When he was able to lift three quarters of their weights his body had become so extreme that no one could doubt he was hard core. Nothing he did could hide it. Short of Brice and Ali he was the largest man in the gym and could have stepped on any bodybuilding stage in the world and placed in the top three. His shoulders were four times as wide as his waist, and his lats pressed his arms out further still. His legs were so wide they forced themselves apart so that it was impossible for him to touch his knees together.

On the night of his third month in house of Brice and Ali, as the three of them rose from the dinner table, Brice pressed his body against Mark and gave him an open mouthed kiss. If that weren’t enough of a shock, Ali pressed against his back and kissed him on the neck. The two of them pulled his shirt over his head and began to devour his body right there in the dining room. When he was naked between them, Brice and Ali took turns slurping his cock while the other kissed and fondled his body from behind, sliding an elephantine cock between his ass cheeks and up the crevice of his back muscles.

The doubled stimulus of both their bodies brought Mark to a climax in record time, and as he came in long, forceful streams of milky honey, Brice and Ali took turns drinking his juice. When his orgasm finally abated, Mark was too weak-kneed to stand. Brice lowered him to a chair. Ali kissed him on the forehead, and the two of them walked hand in hand out of the room and upstairs to their bedroom, their fully engorged cocks pointing straight up and rubbing their chests.

Mark could not believe it. He thought this first act of shared love was the start of a deeper more affectionate relationship between them. He thought it would at least result in an invitation to share their bed that one night. Yet they left him sitting with the dirty dishes, feeling as consumed and forgotten as the meal they had just shared.

After wiping himself with the napkins and briefly considering clearing the table, Mark thought to himself, ‘fuck it’. He left his clothing on the floor in the small pile where he had stood as they had had their way with him and walked naked up the stairs after them.

The door to their bedroom was wide open, whether as an invitation to watch or join in or merely a careless act of wanton lust Mark could not decide. Whatever the motivation had been neither of them noticed as Mark stood in the doorway and watched Brice sliding his donkey cock deeply in and out of his lover’s welcoming ass. The two of them were more enraptured with each other than Mark had ever seen any other couple, more even than he had felt with either of them in all the weeks they had made love. It was as though the whole of the world had stopped all around them. Nothing existed but their lust for each other and the paroxysms of passion they shared.

The sight of them made Mark hornier than he had ever been, yet as he moved around them, touched them, even entered the ass of Brice as they fucked – nothing he did registered with either of them. How could they have loved him so forcefully just a few minutes before and now ignore him completely? Had the bond between them always been this strong?

The next morning nothing was said of the events of the prior evening. Still it started a new, maddening phase of their relationship for Mark. He had never felt more attracted anyone than the two of them, even emotionally connected in a way he thought he could never be with a man. He had never felt more worthy of their attention, yet they still treated him as no more than a friend in public, and even in private in their home, except for the minutes before they left him for their separate bed, the sexual nature of their relationship was never acknowledged.

Still none of that kept Mark from trying to earn their attention. He pushed himself even harder as they worked out together. In that one area at least he was not frustrated. It was not long before he not only lifted the same weights as the two of them, he began to exceed their limits.

If Mark thought that would change things, he was wrong. The two of them congratulated him on his accomplishments and heaped praise on his increased size as he passed even their immense proportions, but it won him no added considerations of affection. If anything it seemed to Mark they began to consider him less than themselves, someone who belonged to them and had no other choice but to stay with them.

Mark considered moving out, but he was in worse shape financially than he had been when he moved in. His ridiculous development had torpedoed his job. Not only had he been unable to dress professionally, his appearance made his co-workers uneasy around him, and the distance that developed led to performance problems that made his position untenable. Mark’s other friends, while still cordial, had also become distant. Gone were the days they envied him. Now they simply couldn’t understand him. Why would he do what he did to himself? What would make anyone do that?

It seemed that the only thing that kept Mark going was the sex with Brice and Ali. No matter how lonely he felt when they left him, for the moments they loved his body, he felt essential, vital, powerful and desired. That feeling, that moment, became the central part of his life.

A reticent man, Mark had always found it difficult to talk about relationships. Perhaps that was why none of his had lasted more than a few months, but one evening as they were beginning their meal, before the end was in sight, before any of them could fixate what they expected was next, Mark put down his silverware and asked them what was going on. “What am I to the two of you?”

A look flashed between the two of them, sharpened by the glint of a shared smile.

“Dear Mark,” Brice said to him, “we know you have developed feelings for us.”

Tears welled up in Mark’s eyes against his will. “If you know that, why –“ but he couldn’t complete the sentence for sobbing.

Ali stood and kissed his head. Under Ali’s clothing, Mark could see his cock swell. Not even his sorrow quelled their lust. “It will be hard to understand,” Ali told him. “We are not the same as you are.”

“I know that you’re gay. That doesn’t explain it.”

“No, Mark, we are not even really human. Our kind have shared the earth with you for centuries in seclusion, until one of us discovered the symbiosis that was possible between our species.”

The absurdity of what he was saying stopped Mark’s tears.

“Our fluids are not like yours,” Brice continued. “Ours do not impregnate. We don’t reproduce that way. We have no separate sexes. But what we discovered was that our fluids could change the males of your species into something very special to us. It changes your fluids – your seed – into a kind of psychedelic aphrodisiac for us. Along the way it also changes your appearance. It makes you bigger, more muscular than your kind usually grows, even bigger than us. For some men this, plus the joy we give as we drink from you, is enough.”

“You expect me to believe that all I am to you is some kind of cow?”

“We don’t expect anything from you. You are free to leave whenever you want. You stay because you want to stay, or you leave because you want to leave. The changes you’ve gone through will stay with you, at least for a good while, maybe longer than you want them to,” Ali said as he lifted Mark to his feet. Ali kissed him and pulled down his pants. As much as he wanted to resist, as much as he wanted to leave, Mark’s cock wanted to stay. Nothing felt as good as the two of them on him, in him. He may not stay forever, but for now he wasn’t budging.

A Djinn's Own Story - Part 2

“No! NO! I want to enjoy myself! You can’t put me in this bottle!” Charlie shouted loudly, deeply.

“We have no choice, Little One. We are Djinn and this is where we must stay until we are summoned,” said the voice of the Djinn.

Inside the bottle, Charlie had no substance. He was merely dense bluish smoke. He missed his hugely muscled body and the incredible sense of power he had felt, so briefly, as he stood naked to the world, the power of the Djinn pulsing through him with every heartbeat.

“How long?” Charlie asked.

“A few years, maybe longer. I waited only two days for you to open the bottle. Before that I waited sixty years. Once I was inside the bottle for three centuries, but inside the bottle there is no sensation of time, although we have a sense of what is happening around us. Think of it like a light nap. You can hear sounds around you, but time passes quickly.”

Charlie heard foot steps.

“It sounds like our stay in the bottle will be very brief this time,” the Djinn said. “The man at the end of the alley who saw you slip into the bottle has come to investigate. Pay attention to me, Little One, when he opens the bottle. This is your first time as a Djinn. I have much to teach you.”

Charlie heard the stopper pop off the bottle. Light streamed in. The dense bluish smoke that was Charlie swirled madly like a tornado and Charlie felt himself exploding out into the air. It was a feeling as breathtakingly erotic as cumming.

Charlie’s smoky condensed form rushed out into the air in a high, wide arc, kissing the pavement, expanding and coalescing into solid matter. Charlie felt the immensity of his muscles again and grinned broadly as he looked down on the man who had freed him.

“The Djinn of the bottle awaits your command,” Charlie found himself saying. ‘Why did I say that?’ he thought. ‘I said it for you,’ he heard the Djinn’s voice answer inside his head. ‘Why are you still with me?’ he wondered. ‘You asked to be me. To be me my consciousness must stay with you. Otherwise you would just be you.’

“You’re real!” the young man said, looking up in awe at the masculine majesty standing in front of him. “I can’t believe you’re real! Can I have anything I want? No matter what?”

‘Tell him ‘yes, but there are limitations.’ Charlie heard the Djinn’s voice say inside his head.

“Yes, Habib. Yet there are a few things even a Djinn cannot do.” Charlie said. ‘Habib?’ Where did that come from, Charlie wondered. ‘Language is one of our limitations,’ the Djinn’s booming voice answered inside his head.

The young man walked around him, looking up and down in disbelief. Charlie stared straight ahead, but his Djinn senses could ‘see’ the young man even when he was standing behind him. He was handsome, dark haired, swarthy with a tuft a black fur hanging out of the top of his shirt. “Damn, you’re a big motherfucker!”

“You admire my body, Habib?

“Fuck, yeah! I been fucking around in the gym for years but I never had the gift, not like you. You’re bigger than any of those guys in the magazines.”

“You want to look like I do?”

“Well, I don’t want to be blue, and I’d still like to fit through a doorway. How tall are you?”

“Seven of what you call feet.”

“Seven feet! That’s way too tall, but the muscles, yeah,” the young man volunteered, without thinking about what he had said.

“As you wish, Habib” Before the young man could stop him, Charlie had begun to grant his wish.

The veins in the young man’s neck swelled. His face reddened. His eyes closed. His shoulders rolled back, throwing his chest forward. His shoulders puffed up inside his loose fitting dress shirt. His pecs pushed out, and his arms strained against the seams. “Oh, fuck!” the young man said, “I didn’t mean – I mean – fuck! It feels like getting a hard-on!” He slid the fingers of one hand between the buttons of his shirt and felt his furry chest expanding, straining the buttons. In a fit of sexual frustration he tore his shirt open. Underneath a dark carpet of hair thick, hard abs were taking shape. He flexed his arms and his biceps burst out of his shirt sleeves. “Oh, fuck, that’s hot!”

Charlie agreed. His cobra sized Djinn cock was stirring under the folds of his silk pants, creating a tent over his thigh, but he fought back his desire to keep it from tearing free. ‘Careful, my new friend. You are on the verge of becoming involved with your master,” the Djinn’s voice told Charlie.

The young man had torn the remains of his shirt from his chest and was flexing, watching his chest, arms and shoulders bunch up and grow. Then the seams of his pants started to pop and his thighs tore open holes along the sides. The young man ripped the leggings off and flexed his thighs. He was as big as a perfectly formed heavyweight amateur.

The young man was so into watching his muscles expand like bulbous stone as he flexed that he wasn’t even aware Charlie was there. Charlie smiled and adjusted his thick, firm dick inside his silk pants. A couple of yanks and it would burst free, but his prey wasn’t ready for that yet. Still it was an effort to keep it under wraps as the young man’s body expanded still more. His arms grew as thick as thighs. His shoulders as broad as a door. And the divisions between his sinews sunk deeper into his frame, making his unbelievably thick development appear ever more spectacular. The bulbous bulk of his biceps encroached on his thickening forearms and his ballooning deltoids. His lats spread like bat wings. His pecs swelled up and out in front of his neck blocking his view of the lower half of his body. His thighs were so wide they rubbed against each other half way to his knees. Even from the front his hips, though still narrow betrayed his thickening ass muscles. No longer a grin; his mouth was wide with astonishment at his bizarrely humongous development.

“Are you happy with your wish, Habib? You asked to be as large as I, but not as tall, and of course not blue.” Inside his mind, Charlie could feel the Djinn approve of his handiwork. Charlie had granted the wish, but had intentionally taken it further than he knew the young man had imagined. Such willful misunderstandings were de rigueur for a Djinn. He was proud of him, if not entirely in agreement with his motivations.

“Huh? Oh, but I didn’t – I was just answering your question.” The young man had recovered enough to speak, but he couldn’t keep his hands off his muscles. Indeed they were so immense they were impossible to ignore. His fingers combed through the black fur on his chest and felt up his rock hard pecs and his abs. “Does that count as one of my wishes? Do I only have a few? This might be a bit much. I – I don’t know if I can keep all of this.”

“You have two wishes left.”

“Can I wish to be a little smaller?”

“I am afraid none of your wishes may alter an earlier wish, Habib,” Charlie lied. It was a hitherto for unknown “rule”, and the Djinn inside Charlie’s head tried to make Charlie feel shame at his lie, but the Djinn appreciated the deception as well. Many lifetimes of unrelenting service made even the most obedient Djinn sociopathically passive aggressive.

“How will I cover myself? I look like the Hulk standing here in tattered pants. These seams aren’t going to hold after I start moving.”

“Do you wish for a suit of clothing, Habib?”

“Maybe a whole wardrobe -- no wait. I only have three, right?”

“Two wishes now, Habib.”

“Can’t you just take me home somehow and give me some time to think about what to do next?”

A more secluded venue suited Charlie’s designs on the young man. “As you wish, Habib.”

“No! Not a wish!”

Before the words had escaped him the two of them stood at the door to the young man’s modest home. “Tell me that didn’t count,” he begged.

“Of course not, Habib. Forgive my reflexive response.”

The young man patted his pants for his keys and slipped his thickened finger and thumb into his pocket to pull them free. “Good thing I still have pants pockets,” he chuckled.

Charlie followed him inside his small home, bowing his head ever so slightly to avoid bumping into the ceiling as he walked. “You should make yourself comfortable, Habib. You seem distressed. It pains me to see you so.” Charlie winked and the young man was out of his tightly stretched pants. It had not only been muscle that Charlie had grown all over his young master. His penis was as thick as a coke can. It billowed out from his groin, then lazily draped over a pair of gonads the size of avocados, wiggling and wagging almost to his knees. Freed of the tight confines of his pants and responding to the slight movement of air in the room it began to straighten and swell. Once it began its momentum was unstoppable, until it stuck straight out in front of him in purplish brown glory and dribbled sweet love sweat. The young man tried to remain nonchalant in the presence of his very masculine companion, but his eyes kept returning to it.

“I am your servant, Habib. You should not feel embarrassed by your arousal in front of me.”

“Sure. I –“

“Ignore my presence, Habib. Do as you would do if I were not in the room. Or allow me to give you the relief you so obviously require.”

“I – I won’t waste a wish –“, the young man warned.

“Careful,” said the voice of Djinn inside Charlie’s head, “a Djinn must not become too involved with his master. “Or what?” Charlie asked. “It is never wise to bind oneself with one’s adversary,” the Djinn answered.

Faster than the young man’s eyes could see him move, Charlie was standing in front of him, tugging on the young man’s needy flesh, milking the free flowing pre-cum.. “Banish the thought! Such a service is mere kindness, Habib.” The shorter man was swooning. He didn’t even notice Charlie’s Djinn size cock poking free of his silk pants and dribbling in unison. As he pulled Charlie felt the young man’s cock straining at its thin, sensitive skin, stiffening. “I could provide still more pleasure, Habib, if you allowed me to use my mouth,” Charlie offered.

“Yes. Please,” he asked.

Charlie knelt and sucked up the young man’s giant codpiece like a vacuum. He moaned. His knees weakened.

“Lie down, my young friend,” Charlie implored him. “You will enjoy this more.”

As the young man lay on his back, Charlie knelt over him, his knees above the man’s shoulders, his cock wagging over the young man’s chest, brushing against it as Charlie swooped down repeatedly on his cock. As the young man became more and more aroused he became more entranced by the sight of the Djinn’s prick. Charlie’s near omniscient sense of the area around him made him acutely aware of it. As he drew up off the young man and caught his breath, he said, “I am afraid I suffer from a similar need, Habib. Would you be so kind as to return the favor I am so generously granting you?”

The young man hesitated. He wanted to feel the Djinn’s manhood, but he feared for his life. No man could swallow such a cock and live.

“Do you fear for your safety, young master? There is no need.” Charlie rose over the young man and rubbed his prick on the man’s lips. The young man opened his mouth and Charlie slowly fed him his cock. As it passed the back of his throat, the young man struggled briefly until he realized he neither felt pain nor discomfort. In fact it was the opposite. The Djinn’s warm cock filled his throat and his chest with erotic heat and made his cock harder. The Djinn sucked up his cock as he fucked his throat. After a while it felt to the young man like he was sucking his own cock and he desperately tried to make himself cum. His sucking became more enthusiastic and the Djinn returned the favor.

The young man stiffened and moaned as he emptied inside of the Djinn. An instant later the Djinn returned the favor.

“I never thought I would enjoy that so much with a man,” the young man said as they uncoupled. “Is it as good with a man as it is with a genie?”

“Do you wish to find out?” Charlie asked.

The young man considered the weight of the question, but moved by the intensity of his recent experience to trump that wish with one far better. “I wish to have sexual experiences even more intense than that one for the rest of my life.”

Charlie grinned. “Your wish is my command, Habib.” Charlie’s imagination was already on the job. His momentary satiety was already washed away by a tidal wave of new lust as he regarded the obscene depravity of his previous handiwork. The young man’s physique was a walking wet dream, and the Djinn’s penis was stiff as a board.

“Perhaps we ought to begin by continuing your initiation into intimacy with hyper masculinity,” Charlie suggested. In a blink of the young man’s eye he lay beneath Charlie’s immense blue body, his thick, muscular legs flipped up and hooked over Charlie’s shoulders. The blunt knob of Charlie’s prick pushed at his asshole and spread it wide. This time Charlie did not accord his master special abilities that might have lessened his discomfort, and neither was Charlie inclined to be patient. In one forceful stroke he buried his enormous cock inside the muscle man’s ass, making him scream and forcing his eyes to bug out.

“Get it out of me!”

“If that is your wish, Habib.”

“No! That’s not a wish!”

Charlie had begun to withdraw, but pushed in again, pinning the young hulk once again, this time to slightly different effect.

“Shit!” his master shouted. His cock, which had lost a little of it’s bounce on first entry, was firming up again.

“Do I hurt you, Habib?”

“Fuck, yes, but . . . don’t stop now. It’s just getting good.”

“Yes, Habib.” Charlie suppressed a smile at the young master’s change of heart and began to fuck him.

“Goddamn! That feels fuckin’ great!” The young man braced himself with his hands on the Djinn’s outrageously large chest. What had at first been a convenience became erotic. His hands began to squeeze the rock hard muscles and then to wander around Charlie’s shoulders and his triceps. “I think you are still bigger than me,” the young man mused as he grimaced at Charlie’s assault.

“Is my size pleasing?”

“Yes. I mean. Kinda. I always admired big guys.”

“Like yourself?”

“Yeah. Like both of us. Oh, fuck, I’m cumming! I didn’t even jack myself!”

“Is that good, Habib?”

“Yes, but I just came a few minutes ago. It was hardly more intense than the last one.”

“Habib, this is just foreplay.” Charlie bent his legs and twisted him around his cock, landing him on his stomach. “The first hour is just for fun. The real orgasms begin in the third.” The young man caught his breath and arched his back, raising his ass in service to the Djinn. Charlie grinned lasciviously at the sight of the young man’s muscular ass, wide rippling back and his thickly muscled arms splayed out over his head. At last he was really enjoying being a Djinn, and if he could be of service to this young master, then that was fine too.

A Djinn's Own Story - Part 1

Charlie held the ornate fluted bottle and looked at it incredulously. That he would find such a thing buried under sacks of garbage in a dumpster inside his apartment building garage seemed like a twilight zone episode. He loosened the stopper and removed it, sniffing inside and expecting to smell bad perfume, but instead the scent he inhaled was spicy and dry as desert wind. A thin trail of white smokiness wafted from the lips of the bottle, thickening, escaping suddenly in a rush of wind. The white smokiness filled his living room and stung his eyes. His eyes watered. He coughed. He swirled his arms to dissipate it, but it was already dissolving. In its place stood a blue skinned giant in sheer silk pants, his head a bald plate, a gold loop ear ring in one ear, and a pair of thickly muscled arms crossed over his huge, defined chest. Charlie’s eyes wandered down and caught just barely caught a glimpse of the creature’s ungainly tube of manhood dangling down the inside of his silk pants before the visage spoke to him in a voice deeper than the growl of a bear.

It was a language Charlie did not understand, but assumed must be Middle Eastern. He excused himself for not understanding and the voice answered in English.

“The Djinn of the Bottle awaits your three commands.”

Charlie grinned. He suppressed a laugh, appreciative of the impossible nature of his circumstance.

“My commands?” he repeated questioningly.

“Yes, Habib.”

“Anything I want? No matter how incredible or impossible?”

“Nothing may be denied the one who possesses the lamp.”

Charlie was well aware of the pitfalls of wishing: the unfortunate unintended consequences, the trickery in their execution no matter how carefully the phrased. He knew no matter what he requested, the creature before him would undoubtedly find some way through subterfuge to ruin the outcome. However servile the Djinn may claim to be, it was always he who was in control. How could it be otherwise when Charlie’s requests were limited while the Djinn’s abilities were not? Long after Charlie’s wishes were granted, the omnipotent Djinn could do whatever HE wished. Not to mention the trouble the Djinn’s next master could create for him.

He needed a strategy, Charlie thought, but it was difficult for him to concentrate in front of the scantily clad giant whose “manhood” – if a Djinn’s cock could be called such – stirred suggestively before his eyes and reached out toward him seductively.

Charlie looked up from the elegantly long, thick cock, now obscenely tenting his silk pants, into the Djinn’s eyes. His stoic visage neither dissuaded nor invited advances. His body language, however, cried out to Charlie to touch. His thighs, so massive the insides pressed tightly against each other, pushing his enormous testicles in front of him.

Charlie reached out and tugged it. It stretched almost as fast as he pulled. The Djinn pulled the waist of his loose pants down and underneath his genitals, giving it infinite room to expand as Charlie cradled it in his hands.

Ten, twelve, fourteen, eighteen inches. Each time Charlie thought it could grow no more, the Djinn tensed the muscles that supported it and it swelled again, both in length and girth, until it stood up almost two feet with a smooth, urgent curve.

Charlie wet his lips and opened his mouth, wrapping his lips around it somewhere in the middle. He sucked along the underside along the whole two feet, feeling it jerk and strain on his tongue. As impossible as it seemed, Charlie had to try sucking it. He pulled it downward with both hands and pointed it at his mouth. He opened wide and sucked it in. He coughed and sputtered as it hit the back of his mouth, but he was determined to take more than five inches of it. He let it fall from his lips. He licked it appreciatively, then dove down on it again, this time drawing it past his tonsils and down into his throat.

Charlie was astonished he could fit it in. It was so thick it was like swallowing a coke can! But it became surprisingly easy. Inch after inch slipped through his lips and tunneled down his chest cavity. The Djinn’s breath quickened. He cradled the back of Charlie’s head with one massive hand and pulled him closer to his crotch.

As Charlie passed the halfway mark he realized it had to be Djinn magic, but what did he care? Sucking the giant horse cock made Charlie so horny his balls were sore and a syrupy stain was spreading at his crotch. He was going to swallow the whole thing and drink the Djinn’s hot cum if it killed him, and then he’d make his wishes, although it would be difficult to top sex with a Djinn in the wish department.

As Charlie got closer to his goal, his eyes flitted from the Djinn’s undulating abs to the stiff tube of flesh that drove deep into this chest, rubbing tightly against his throat all the way down. Finally the giant’s pubic hair flossed Charlie’s teeth and then the Djinn began to fuck his face. Charlie had never felt anything like it in his whole life. Being able to accommodate two foot of cock flesh plunging and poking inside him made his heart pound and his dick jerk in his pants. Charlie shot load after load as he squeezed and jerked the Djinn’s cock with his hands between penetrations. Finally the Djinn let loose himself with thick, foot long streams of bluish cum extruding from his piss slit in wave after wave. It tickled Charlie’s gums, lubricated his throat and filled up his stomach. Between thrusts it covered his face, arms and clothes as the Djinn roared like a lion.

Charlie was drenched with cum and the Djinn’s sweat before the giant was sated and drew his still tumescent, yet slightly limp cock from his throat and slathered his cum over Charlie’s face with it. Slowly it shrank back to its original, merely hefty size.

Charlie caught his breath and scrapped the cum from his face with his hands.

The Djinn was a stoic as before, staring down at him from over a lordly chin as his enormous chest rose and fell.

“Now for my first wish,” Charlie sad as he fell back on the ground on his elbows.

“You mean your last wish, Habib.”

“Last? How do you account for that?”

“Seeing my naked man flesh in all its glory was the first, devouring it completely was the second.”

“But I didn’t ask you for either of those things. I never said a word!”

“Do you deny you wanted them whether you expressed yourself verbally or not?”

“Do you deny YOU wanted both?” Charlie argued.

“It is not my wishes that are in question,” the Djinn answered with a hint of a smile.

“Very well,” Charlie said. He knew the Djinn’s rules were all that mattered. He’d known from the beginning the deck was stacked in the Djinn’s favor and that there was no way a mere man could win. Still he smiled inwardly at what he had gained so far, even if it had cost him dearly in what he might have otherwise had. “Then for my last wish, I wish to be you.”

“That is out of the question,” the Djinn replied.

“Did you or did you not agree with me that there were no limits on my wishes?”

“A man cannot be a Djinn.”

“Are you saying it is not within your abilities to grant my wish?”

“A Djinn is not limited in anything he can do. A Djinn is a physical manifestation of creative energies of the All. If a Djinn may exist as part of the All, a Djinn may create a Djinn from it, but such power is not for the feeble mind of a man. Man’s judgment has been flawed since his creation, as evidenced by his very first choices. To make a man a Djinn is to make him like a god. To make man like a god is to invite cosmic catastrophe.”

“Your excuses don’t interest me. I have made my wish. This time I have spoken it. Nothing could be clearer than my wish and your obligation to fulfill it.”

The Djinn glared at Charlie and seemed to grow taller and even more intimidating, but Charlie did not give in. He clambered to his feet, brushed the dirt from the alley from his jeans and slowly unbuttoned his shirt to make room for the growth he anticipated to be part of his transformation.

The skies darkened above them. The air became electric. Lightning struck at the Djinn’s feet and clouds of smoke billowed up around him. Charlie began to feel lighter than air and at the same time stronger than a bull. His breath came in deep draughts and with each inhalation he felt himself expanding. The seams of his jeans split and the fabric fell to his feet exposing a cock that stretched and thickened until it was as long the Djinn’s. His arms and his legs swelled with thick cables of muscle that twisted and tightened around his bones. His chest and his back expanded drawing his breast bone high and pulling his shoulders back. His waist tightened. Charlie raised his arms and flexed. His biceps bunched up like mountains under his bluish skin. When he laughed his voice was a deep as thunder.

But Charlie’s growth was only just beginning. His bluish blood pounded inside his veins. His muscles swelled like steel balloons. As impossible as it seemed, Charlie could see himself grow as if he were looking in a mirror, or more exactly, as if he were walking around himself, even though he could feel the growth from the pit of his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes.

When it ceased Charlie stood naked, magnificent, almost seven feet tall, in the center of a swirl of wispy bluish smoke that rose from his feet, four hundred pounds of muscle. A man at the entrance to the alley stopped as he walked by and just stared. Charlie grinned at him and laughed, proud of his nudity and unafraid of anyone. He was a Djinn.

“And now, Little One, it is time for us to go home,” said the deep voice of the Djinn inside Charlie’s head.

The smoke at his feet grew thicker, swirling like a tornado, until it completely obscured him. Then the tip of the blue tornado rose from the pavement, touched the mouth of the fluted bottle, and was sucked inside. The stopper floated from the ground and rocked into place, sealing Charlie inside.

Yakima

(c) 2009 Josef Howard

I was the smallest kid in my class at the start of junior high. If you had seen me then in a classroom of my peers you would have thought a little boy wandered into the classroom by mistake and no one had the temerity to show him the door. I was five foot two inches tall and a pudgy 120 pounds. As all the kids around me grew into young adults, I stayed a sniffling little kid.

It was because those constant sniffles that my parents took me to the doctor, who sent me to an allergist, who put me on a course of weekly injections for my allergies. The coolest thing about the allergy shots to me that spring was that I was excused from gym class for 24 hours after each shot, and given my size and relative clumsiness, staying out of gym was a respite from further humiliation.

Then suddenly that summer I grew so fast it made people’s heads spin. At the start of ninth grade I was five foot ten inches and a very muscular 180 pounds. None of the kids who hadn’t seen me during the summer recognized me. Some of them thought I was a different guy who just happened to be named Jack Ackerman like the old me. They must have figured the old me moved away. Or maybe he just slithered away and hid in some hole.

Even after they heard I was the same guy, they didn’t treat me like the same guy. Logically they might understand it was still me, but emotionally they treated me like someone else. My bulky body, my chiseled and fuzzy face, and my new found athletic ease meant I hung with a whole different crowd. Suddenly every girl wanted to date me and every guy wanted to be friends with me. In gym class I went from being a klutz to a natural athlete. The football coach started trying to recruit me, and I half considered playing on the team, but after so many years of ignoring sports, I just wasn’t interested in the game.

I kept up with the allergy shots all that year even though they didn’t seem to affect my sniffles or my stuffy sinuses, but I noticed something strange after a few months of being the new me. Most of the Doc’s patients were teenager boys, and half of them were huge. Lots of them even bigger than I was. The Doc himself was huge, now that I thought about it. He wore a loose lab coat, but it was cut like a circus tent to cover his chest shoulders and arms. His neck was wider than his head, and his hands were enormous. All during ninth grade I noticed he treated me differently too, like he was proud of me for some reason. He grinned from ear to ear when he walked in the examining room.

By the end of ninth grade I had packed on another sixty pounds of muscle and stood six foot two inches tall. I looked like a college man. I was shaving twice a day and I didn’t know what to make of my endowment. Most of the girls wouldn’t let me near their pussy because it hurt when I fucked them. The most I could get was a hand job.

The summer between junior high and high school my parents moved across the country. We never lived in a real city before, but this new town was really rural, in the middle of central Washington.

School was a little strange that year, because a lot of the kids were a little afraid of me, like they thought I was an adult planted in the class. In one way it felt normal – like in seventh grade – I was different again, and I spent a lot of time alone.

That spring I got the envelope in the mail. Inside were these pictures of huge muscle dudes – just from the neck down. Some of them my size, some way bigger. Some of them wearing speedos that bulged as obscenely as mine would if I had enough nerve to wear one. Some of them naked with cocks like donkeys. Some of the cocks were stiff. It fucking freaked me out, but it also fucking turned me on. I thought it was sex that turned me on, but as I looked at those pictures I realized what really had turned me on the most was my own body. Seeing variations of bodies like my own only made it clear. I was turned on by big muscle dudes with giant cocks. It was embarrassing to admit even to myself, but looking at those pictures made my skin tingle; it set my blood on fire.

I locked myself in the bathroom after I opened the envelop, greased up my dick with my mom’s hand lotion and wacked out a shit load of cum, all the while moaning and groaning almost uncontrollably.

When I heard the front door close I scrambled to clean up. My parents had been at work when I got the mail after school.

“Jack? Is that you?” my mom’s voice called from the hall. “Are you alright?”

Shit! “Yeah, I’m okay. I just bruised my leg on the counter in here.”

“Let me see,” she said. “How come the door’s locked.”

“Must have been a mistake. I’m okay. I’ll be out in a second.”

In my rush to clean up and vacate the bathroom, I almost overlooked the compact disc and the post card mixed in with the pictures. The disc had a guy on it. He said he was part of some group of guys like me. He said they knew about me. They had been watching me since back in Ohio in junior high, only they’d lost track of me when we moved last year. He said if I wanted to meet guys like me, guys like the ones in the pictures, I should contact him. I should write down a date and time and a place on the postcard and put it in the mail. They’d come met me. 

As fucking excited as those pictures made me when I first opened them, I was scared. Finding out you’re a queer is a big deal to a small town guy. Queers had no life in a place like Yakima. But I never for a minute hesitated to mail the postcard. I chose a day two weeks from now, because who knew how close they were or how long it would take them to get here.

The day came and I skipped out of school at lunch and walked downtown to the dying mall. I knew who they were the instant I walked by the food court. One guy – the older one – was gargantuan – over 300 pounds. The other guy was closer to my age and size. They stand and shake hands and introduce themselves. The older one, Frank, is friendly but businesslike. The guy my age, Jesse, is all smiles and eyes.

We don’t order food. Instead they take me to their limo and we go to a small hotel a few blocks away. Frank leads us to a room where they undress me and measure me and weigh me, like I’m some specimen. I’ve got an erection from being near them, but they work around it. No one touches it, not even Jesse, who as least stares at it when he thinks I’m not looking, or when he thinks his long, lanky blond hair is hiding his eyes.

Frank tosses me a robe when they’re done and we sit down. He says he’s glad they’ve found me. I should have asked who they were and what they wanted from me, shouldn’t I? That would have been normal, but I was so juiced by the sight of them. My cock was still hard and wrapped around my waist under the hotel robe, twitching occasionally as we talked and dribbling pre-cum like a leaky faucet. Frank tells me the doc back in Ohio picked me back in the eighth grade. He put me on the shots my parents thought were allergy shots. He tells me not to worry now about why. There’s a reason and there is time enough to talk about it later. Maybe I’d like to take the afternoon off from school today to spend time getting to know someone my own age from the program.

I don’t need encouragement.

Jesse and I leave the hotel. He’s got a motorcycle parked by the limo. I sit behind him and we ride to the local Y. As big as I was I never lifted. Jesse is amused by my cluelessness in the weight room, but he never makes me feel inept or ostracized. He’s attitude is too salacious to let me feel anything but appreciated. It’s a shock to me how strong we both are. We have the place to ourselves because kids are in school and adults are at work. It’s a small town and no one works out during the middle of the afternoon. I’ve leafed through bodybuilding magazines before. I know what the big guys lift, but Jesse and I are almost twice as strong as those guys.

With all the grunting and suggestive positioning as we spot one another, I feel like my cock is going to burst. I wish we had stayed back at the hotel room and Frank had gone away. Or not gone away. I just wish the two of them had given me some relief.

In the locker room we are all alone. As hard as I still am as we walk into the showers, I take my own stall, but Jesse surprises me. He walks into my stall and closes the curtain behind him. He lathers me up and as he finishes my legs he sucks the end of my cock into his mouth. It only takes a few minutes before I’m firing down his throat like a fire hose.

Jesse flips me around and leans me against the warm and wet tile wall and slides his soapy cock in my ass. I know it must have hurt that first instant, but I know I was a lot more turned on than I was uncomfortable. Jesse’s not as easy to get off as I was so we’re going at it quit a while. The wet Brillo fur of his chest on my mountainous back rubs me the right way, and I get time to get off a few more times myself.

Jesse drops me off at home after the Y. When my mom gets home she asks me about my day. I know the whole experience is a life changer because it’s the first time I really can’t talk about any part of it with my folks. I also start to wonder what’s next. Neither Frank nor Jesse gave me any contact information. They know how to find me, but both of them could disappear tonight and I’d never see them again. Still I expect that they wouldn’t have bothered to hunt me down if there wasn’t more to this deal than one afternoon of sex.

Circus of Freaks - Chapter 5

The freakishness continues at the circus. Don't worry. I still haven't forgotten chapter 3. It's just not ready yet.

(c) 2009 Josef Howard

None of the men of the circus understand how the purple hash changes us, just as none of us understand why it affects us differently. Increased muscle mass and exaggerated primary sexual characteristics are a constant, but sometimes it changes us in other ways as well. One man might grow fur and another might grow wings. Some of us think its effects are affected by our individual or collective fantasies. There is no question of the affect that witnessing the changes have on the average man in our audience.

My name is John. When I joined the circus a few years ago in my teens I was scrawny and bookish, obsessed with the pulp fantasies. My father took me into the men’s show tent to shake me out of my daydreams, to show me the excitement of the physical world around me, but the show shook him up more than me. He couldn’t talk about it afterwards. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I ran away from home by the end of the week to join the circus.

The entire tent is pitch black as the MC announces my act. When the spotlight illuminates me, I stand alone wrapped in a long cloak without sleeves, half again as tall as the average performer, my shaved head shining in the bright light.

One mighty muscled arm slides through slits in the black cloak, then another. I shake the blood into them as I loosen up, and then I begin to flex them, allowing the audience to appreciate their size and shape. The veins rise to the surface and the muscles look as smooth and hard as ivory, yet limber and strong. My teeth glint in the stage lights as I smile with pride.

And then, as my arms dance in the air around me, captivating the men with their fluid movement, something stirs inside my cloak. The movement beneath unsettles it from around my neck and it flutters to the stage. But no one is looking at my cloak. All eyes are riveted on the second pair of arms that unfold and dance in harmony with the first. The reason for my extra height is obvious now. An ordinary man’s torso ends at his waist, but beneath mine is another equally muscular set of shoulders, my second set of arms, and another chest.

As I flex my upper body, the audiences gasps, and their appreciation makes something else stir beneath the black, loose-fitting pants that ride on my hips. My posing slows as I allow my attention to drift below my waist. I watch as my trousers rise. I rock my hips gently to encourage the flow of blood to my snake. I reach my lower right hand under the loose elastic and squeeze and tug at it, sharing my pleasure with the men in the tent. With my lower left hand I reach deeper and fish out the end, pulling, pulling until two feet of thickly veined cock flesh flops out above the straining waist band.

Although by this time the audience has seen equally well endowed men on this same stage, they are plainly not jaded. They look at it in awe, their mouths wide open and dribbling, as I twist and twirl it like the rope it resembles.

Now from the darkness outside the spotlight steps the man they have seen just a few minutes before who has proven his ability to devour cocks like this with unsurpassed ease. He lays at my feet and slowly raises his head up, engulfing the thick knob at the end with his mouth, then vacuuming inch after inch inside his throat as he raises himself up higher. My cock swells and stiffens like a board as he succeeds, making his task increasingly difficult the further he goes, but his lips pull his mouth up along the shaft like a snake’s, without regard to the capacity of his distended throat.

When at last it is all inside of him, I start to withdraw and to thrust, taking advantage of him the way he wants me to. The tiny veins in his muscular neck pop in stress as I fuck him and he turns red for lack of oxygen. At last I withdraw completely and as his chest heaves he catches his breath. Still I bury his gasping lips in my groin.

His hot breath causes something else to stir. I slide my lower hands under the elastic waist band. My pants slide over my hips and drop to the floor, revealing an equally thick rope of cock flesh below the first, and under both and array of four lemon-sized testicles inside a wrinkly skin purse. The imaginations of the men are enthralled to the possibilities of pleasure.

The sword swallower laps at the newly discovered cock flesh with his tongue and then begins a second ascent, seducing it as thoroughly as he had seduced the first. But this time I wrap all four of my meaty hands around the top cock and work it with all my might. That only sends the blood racing into its twin all the faster.

The sword swallower pauses again to catch his breath as my twins bob in front of his face and I play with them both with all four of my hands in every combination of potential attention. Then my compatriot sets himself at his task again, beginning this time with both enormous heads and straining as he devours both of me more slowly than before, but just as deliberately.

It is a sight that no one in the audience will likely see again in their lifetimes, and it elicits unprecedented enthusiasm as strangers go wild on each other, uncontrollably fighting for release even as they are unable to take their eyes off us. Before the sword swallower can satisfy me, every knob in the house has squirted, filling the tent with such an intense scent of spunk it finally sends me over the edge as well, squirting simultaneously inside the stomach of sword swallower. Then freed of his confines, pouring more of my cum out on the stage in thick volleys that spray into the front row.

One Hundred and One - Wolverine Fan

A few months ago I posted a chapter on the Evolution Forum to a continuing story I started earlier in the year called One Hundred and One. The idea with One Hundred and One is that a group of guys at a college campus were injected with what they thought were flu shots, but they were actually unwitting test subjects for a muscle growth serum that a campus doctor was testing. The doctor gets them all together to tell them and suggests they form a support group. My idea was that each of the guys had a story to tell during subsequent support group meetings about how his personal muscle growth and the way it affected his life. This would become a sort of muscle growth version of the arabian Thousand and One Nights stories, but I wouldn't feel like I was on the hook to write them all.

Anyway after several people went off in different directions, I posted another chapter of my own about a guy named Cal -- a short furry guy who was a Wolverine Fan. I figured his background would make him a little different than the average WASPy college kids and make an interesting story. But I never realized how popular he would become. I think I got more comments on that chapter about Cal than I had on any other story I ever posted. Even though my self imposed rule on the series was that each character appears only once, I got lots of requests to have Cal return.

Things like that stick in the back of my mind. Eventually I start to envision how I might accomodate the request. The truth is I am a comic fan myself, and my first lover was a short furry guy who was a Wolverine Fan, so I kind of liked Cal too.

This story fragment is in answer to those requests. There is more to come. I know where I want to go from here, and hopefully it won't take me too long to pick it up and finish it. In the meantime, since the first part is relatively self contained, I thought I may as well post it, since there was quite a drought on this blog over the last few weeks.

One Hundred and One --Lonewolf Part II

The guys who’d been coming regularly to the support group recognized Cal right away when he stepped forward at the meeting. Cal was one of the guys who told his story in the early meetings, and he had a distinctive look. He was the shortest guy in the group – only about five foot six – and not only really hairy, he was one of the most muscular guys in the group. He was three hundred pounds and zero body fat. His upper arms were as big as his head. If you like little hairy guys and you love muscle, he was a soaking wet dream on two tree trunk legs.

It was one of those rare warm days in October and he’d come to the meeting in just a black tank and mid calf baggy shorts. Only they weren’t baggy on Cal. They were as tight as his tank top, and they exposed his furry, watermelon-sized calves. His chest hair was like a freaking carpet that thinned around his clavicle and at his deltoids to a sparse forest that covered every inch of exposed skin.

He sat at the chair at the front of the room and leaned forward, bracing his tank-sized torso with his elbows on his knees. Bending his arms forward like that made his biceps pop up bigger than cantaloupes, made his upper arms bigger than his head. He grinned.

“You probably figured you’d already heard my story a few months ago,” he said. “I admit it sounded pretty complete. I told you all about my shot at the clinic, my explosive muscle growth and the change in my sex life. What more could there be, right? But there’s more. Some of you might have even read about it in the campus daily, or seen it on the local TV news.”

Cal’s hairy hand brushed a dangling lock of coal black hair from in front of his square Polish face and hooked it behind his ear.

“I can hardly believe what happened to me after I told you my story the first time and I’m a freaking comic book fan. I’m used to strange stories. Most of my life I’ve expected the unusual to happen, but my life since then has been un-fucking-believable!

“How many of you are in a frat? Yeah? Not many. I know I never thought I’d be asked to join. I was just too fucking geeky until last year. But a few weeks into last semester I couple of hot jocks corner me as I’m walking to class and started talking to me – guys who would never even have said hello to me in the old days.

“But the really freaky thing is that even though they acted straight both of them were checking me out. Every time I locked eyes with one of them, the other one was looking me over – even staring at my crotch. It made grin like a Cheshire cat, and inside my pants my dick stirred as I looked into the tall one’s pale blue eyes. I gave quite a show to his pal, who was not as handsome, but still fuckable.

“The two of them asked me all that straight guy shit – what sports did I play; what was my major. They made a big deal about what a chick magnet I must be, but of course guys always think girls are into muscle, but girls always get scared of guys our size. But I let ‘em think I was just between women, playing the field.

“That weekend they had me over to their frat house at a big party with lots of women and beer. The whole house was so into me I could hardly circulate. Have you guys ever noticed how straight jocks are like school girls when it comes to big guys like us? Every where I stood there were ten guys milling around asking me questions and struggling to keep my attention.

“A week later they voted me in the frat. The tall guy with the blue eyes – Steven – was president. He kicked his roommate out and put me in the big room with him. He had the biggest crush on me. Every night when we turned out the lights he chatted me up in the dark like some school girl. When I undressed in front of him his eyes drilled holes into me. The first time I took off my under shorts in front of him and let my dick flop in full view he gulped in disbelief. Not a surprise, right? What normal guy wouldn’t be intimated by fifteen inch cock flesh? I’m sure he wondered just how big it got when it was angry, you know?

“Steven kept saying his girl friend had this friend they could introduce me to, but I got the idea what he wanted was for the four of us to end up in his room fucking so he could watch me get my rocks off.

“One weekend near winter break when most of the guys had gone home, Steven brought in this straight porno DVD and a half dozen joints. We both got shit-faced and then he popped in the DVD and we sat on the floor at the foot of his bed and watched. Steven started massaging his dick through his sweat pants and it was pretty impressive for a regular guy. He took off his shirt. He has this tightly muscled body that’s really hot – kind of like a fitness model – with hard abs. Although Steven was watching the movie as he rubbed himself, I could see in the mirror that he kept glancing at me. I kept my cool. I watched the movie and even though I prefer guys, my dick was pretty stiff. It filled out along my thigh inside my pant leg like a third leg, but I didn’t touch it. Not yet. I wanted to tease him. I wanted Steven to want me to touch it so bad that he almost reached over to touch it himself.

“Still I’m only human and after it while it was so hard inside my pants it hurt. I tugged down my jeans and up popped all nineteen inches, all the way to my chin. That was when Steven stopped watching the movie and started watching me.

“I kept my eyes on the television as I jacked my huge cock with both hands, but Steven turned to face me as he masturbated. Then, slowly, he put his hand on the top half of my cock and started helping me. Then the other one. Four hands weren’t enough to do it justice, but they sure felt better than two.

“Steven abandoned pretense. He sat down in front of me. He leaned into my cock and licked the head. Then he took the whole knob in his mouth and in another couple seconds he was sucking as much as he could handle while I encouraged my straight jock roommate with a hand on the back of his neck.

“And so began my low key affair with Steven. Hardly a night when by after that one without Steven reaching into my shorts and helping me cream. Sometimes he only used his hands, but most of the time he tried to suck it. The longer it went on the better at it he got. He never got much more than half inside his throat, but half is fucking good. I kept the mystery up about the rest of my sex life so he thought I was straight, and from what I could tell the sex with his girl friend only got more intense as a result of our affair. I think he got off fucking her imagining he was me, you know?

“But the story about Steven and the frat isn’t why I wanted to speak tonight. The rest of the story is the spectacular part.

“Is it hot in here?” Cal asked. “Does anybody care if I take my shirt off? I didn’t think so.” Cal was a magnificent fur rug down the front of his torso, but even with all that hair you could appreciate the balloon size pecs and the thick divisions between his abs. Leaning forward he looked like he was pushing out a ‘most muscular’ as he continued his story. There wasn’t a dry crotch in the room, and several of the big guys made a mental note to give him their number after the meeting was over.

Circus of Freaks

Earlier chapters are posted on my website. This chapter shifts focus from Billy to a new visitor to the circus and introduces new types of freaks. The focus of future chapters will be additional freaks.

(c) 2008 Josef Howard

Chapter Four
Reverend Williams was a man as strong of body as he was of spirit. Although his black minister’s frock covered his body from the backwards collar at his neck to his ankles, exposing only his hands and his head, it was easy to see the power of his body. He came from a family of hard laborers. His grandfather had worked the fields of the old country. His father was a farmer who still plowed his fields with a horse, though some men in the state had begun to use tractors. His brother worked on a loading dock.

Reverend Williams was almost six feet tall, taller than almost every man in his parish, and broad backed with powerful shoulders. Hair curled up from beneath his stiff collar and covered the backs of his hands. When he ministered to his congregation and gesticulated behind the pulpit, his arms and shoulders bunched powerfully beneath his frock, straining the fabric so much that occasionally he tore a seam.

Though he was crudely handsome and almost thirty-five he was not married. There were no single women in his parish, and Reverend Williams would not marry a woman who did not share his faith.

When the circus came to the small farming community, the reverend was dubious. He did not trust circus people and feared they would tempt the weak members of his flock. So it was in the interest of his flock that the reverend went to the circus the first day to see for himself the entertainment that was offered, so that he could warn his church, if need be, against its dangers.

As he entered the gate he was pleased to be greeted warmly by the stalwart man who took his ticket, and further pleased at the hearty men he saw manning the booths, every one of them strong, powerful men like himself whose bodies were a testament to their hard labor. The games he observed appeared to be fair, and he noticed there were no loose women in this circus to tempt the devoted husbands into fornication.

But when Reverend Williams came to the large tent at the edge of the circus that was festooned with pictures of suggestively dressed women, his suspicions seemed confirmed. Yet he knew he would need to experience what was inside first hand if he were to preach against it on Sunday. His face dark with anger, the reverend paid the two bit admission as he looked closely for faces he recognized in the line behind him. He was not worried about who saw him; he wanted to know who in his flock he must chastise.

The tent filled with boisterous men, crowded near the stage. The lights inside dimmed. A dark figure walked on stage and was suddenly lit by a bright spotlight. He smiled broadly at the crowd. He wore a black tuxedo but strangely he wore no shirt. The open front of his tuxedo jacket exposed musculature the reverend had only seen on the men of his own family – thick billowing chest muscles separated by a deep division at the breast bone and cut horizontally by the clear separation of his upper, middle and lower pectoral muscles. From his breast bone to his waist, his stomach was deeply etched with eight tightly packed smooth stones of abdominal muscle. Besides his own father and brother and himself, Reverend Williams had not seen such a stomach. None of the men in his parish were so tightly muscled, nor as well defined, though they worked every day but the Sabbath in their fields.

The bright light shown in the eyes of this master of ceremonies, yet in the face of it, the man picked the reverend out of the audience and spoke to him.

“You, sir! You are a man of the cloth?”

“Yes, sir. I am,” the reverend shouted proudly.

“Then come to the stage, please.”

The reverend hesitated. Although he was not ashamed to do the Lord’s work ferreting out immorality to protect his flock, he feared that being seen on to the stage might weaken his moral authority when he spoke against what he was about to see. But he was the Lord’s warrior. He could not appear to be timid. So he walked proudly up the stairs and took a position next to the MC, but so that he did not appear to endorse the proceedings, he did not smile. He answered his questions, but he did not banter with the man. He stared straight into the audience, as solemnly as he did from his pulpit.

As they spoke the reverend heard the beating of great wings above and in front of them. He searched for the source of the sound and saw a winged man descending from the air above the crowd, not on ropes, but by the power of his own ivory feathered wings. He landed between the reverend and the audience, and in the bright lights focused on the stage, Reverend Williams could see that he was naked. Yet his form was not obscene. It was the most beautiful, most perfect masculine form that God had ever created, framed but wings that arced high above his head and reached all the way to his ankles as they rested behind him.

His hair was as yellow as gold. His face was pure and strong. His body was as well muscled as the MC’s, but completely without hair, save for a light golden haze. Though he thought it impolite, Reverend Williams could not help but stare at the creature’s crotch, for he was completely naked, and his penis was immense! It was bigger by far than that he had seen on his father, though he knew his father had been unusually well endowed by God.

As the creature walked toward Reverend Williams, the thick, wide muscles of his legs flexed and tensed, and his smooth buttocks bounced as his weight shifted. The MC disappeared into the darkness on the stage. The reverend fell to his knees before the creature and clasped his hands in prayer to the almighty, his eyelids clenched tightly.

“Creature from heaven! Forgive my frailty in thy presence!” the reverend cried out across the hushed tent.

“Do not fear thy God, nor his servant, faithful one,” the creature answered in the deepest, most authoritative voice the minister had ever heard. “Your righteousness and service of our Lord is well known in heaven.”

The creature had stopped just inches from Reverend Williams, and he laid his broad, thickly veined hand on the reverend’s head. The reverend opened his eyes and raised his chin, but blushed because his face was only an inch from the base of the creature’s penis. As he looked up into the face of this perfect creature of God, the thick flesh began to stir and to swell. The reverend leaned back, not only to give it room, but to avoid untoward contact with the creature’s holiness. But the angel of God did not want him to shy away. He held the reverend’s head from recoiling and moved his hips to brush the base of his thickening cock against the reverend’s lips.

“Touch me, faithful one,” said the creature as his cock rose. “Do not be shy with thy God’s holy servant.”

Reverend Williams suppressed his inhibitions and wrapped his strong, hairy hand around the angel’s swelling cock. He tugged on it as he knew he would have wanted someone to have tugged on his own, and it filled out even more, straightening to a ninety degree angle from the angel’s flat stomach and pointing past the side of the reverend’s head.

“Taste me,” the angel said.

And although the reverend knew that such acts between men were immoral, this was not a man. This was a more perfect being, a servant of God, and nothing it instructed him to do could be evil. The reverend obliged, taking – at first – just the head of the creature’s foot and a half long cock into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, tasting the acrid flesh. The angel moaned and he steadied the reverend’s head as he pushed more of himself into his mouth, then deeper into his throat. Reverend Williams relaxed his throat muscles and submitted to the angel, offering as much of himself to him as he could.

The crowd stared in rapt attention, silently, reverently, certain they witnessed communion of man with the divine, their eyes wide, their mouths open, their crotches bulging with excitement. Never had a religious experience been also so visceral.

The angel became more enthusiastic. He plunged deeper inside Reverend Williams and fucked his face harder. The reverend obliged by sucking harder along the steely shaft and slobbering over it. At last he emptied his holy seed down the reverend’s throat as his wings fluttered and he gasped for air. The reverend swallowed as much as he could, but copious amounts of the angel’s seed sprayed all over the reverend’s vestments. When the angel was finished, he put his hands under Reverend Williams’ arms and raised him to his feet. He planted his lips firmly on the reverend’s mouth and gave him a masculine kiss. Then he retreated, his wings flapped and he rose into the air, disappearing into the darkness.

A deep chorus of praise filled the tent. “Amens” and “Hallelujahs”. The reverend dropped to one knee, clasped his hands together and prayed.

But as his lips moved in near silent communication with God, another kind of flapping was heard in the air above – not wings of feather, but of leather – and a darker creature, just as powerfully built landed behind the kneeling reverend.

As he walked into the light the crowd gasped. The reverend opened his eyes and stood to face the dark skinned creature with leather wings and the curled horns of a ram. As strong as the angel had been, this creature appeared even more powerful. His chest was even broader and decorated by a thick thatch of fur at the cleft that gathered and dove down his rippled abs to his hairy groin. His arms were as big around as his head and his thighs were broader than his waist. Swinging malevolently between them with an independent gait was a cock even longer than that of the angel. The creature smiled at Reverend Williams, exposing pearly white teeth sharp as knifes and baring incisor fangs like a vampire bat’s.

“Now that you have tasted seed, holy one, perhaps it is time for you to be filled with the thick, sticky scum of real masculinity. Don’t step away,” he warned, “I can move much faster than you.” And before the reverend could take another step, the demon had moved like lightning and closed the gap between them. He held both his wrists together, and tore at the front of his frock with his long nails, exposing Reverend Williams brawny chest, which was still hairier than his aggressor.

The demon tore away the reverend’s shredded clothing. The reverend tried to pull his hands free, but the demon’s grip was too tight. The reverend kicked at him but even direct blows to his groin had no effect. Instead the demon became aroused and his cock swelled and squirmed in a macabre dance. When it had reached a length of two feet, the demon twisted the naked and full muscled reverend around and bent him over. He positioned himself at the reverend’s ass and – with his free hand – he guided his barbed cock inside.

The reverend shouted in pain and cried out for salvation. As he had willingly submitted to the angel, so was he forced to submit to the demon. The audience stood frozen in horror as the demon fucked him. Yet as he was filled far more than he thought possible, he was granted a warmth from heaven above, a raw sensation that began to excite him and made him greet the demon’s onslaught, accepting it as a penance for his life’s sins. Reverend Williams felt his cock stiffen as he gave in. It swelled up so hard it bounced against his tight abs and began to dribble precum. As the demon’s thrusts became more forceful, the revered began to shake all over. His muscular body became hard as a rock as he braced himself against the onslaught. The demon cried out, and the reverend’s cock began to ejaculate. The creature withdrew and the reverend fell to the stage floor at his feet. The demon grinned at his conquest and laughed.

Just then, above the laughter, the audience heard the sound of wings flapping. The angel landed on stage. Angel and demon stared each other off, the crumbled man between them.

“Demon! How dare you defile a man of God?” the angel shouted at the leather winged creature who stood defiantly behind the minister, his powerful arms crossed over his broadly muscled chest as he grinned. The angel dove at him. Their hands locked above their heads. The angel’s wings beat as he struggled to gain the upper hand and push the demon to the floor, but the demon was obviously more muscular and held him at bay. Like two arm wrestlers locked upright, struggling for dominance, the angel and demon trembled, their veins swelled, the angel’s pale skin reddened. Through clenched teeth the angel began to speak, at first under his breath, slowly louder, but no intelligible words, and as his voice began to carry over the crowd, his wild musculature began to swell with new power. The haughty expression on the demon’s face melted into uncertainty, but as the angel’s body began to exceed the thickness of his own, the demon’s face began to betray panic. And between the angel’s thickening thighs, his massive penis had swollen as well, lifting straight up between them. An expression of supreme peace came over the angel’s face. The demon fell backwards with the angel on top of him, pummeling him with fists like sledge hammers against his dark leathery skin. The demon clawed to freedom and leapt into the air, beating his wings.

The angel stood still, watching him fly away. Then he turned to the reverend, still as big and aroused as he was when he had defeated the evil one, and picked the immense man up in his arms as though he was light as a pillow. His feathery wings beat at the air and lifted them both into the air.

Reverend Williams was too exhausted and too ashamed to keep his eyes open. He nuzzled into the cradling arms of his supremely powerful savior as the angel flew to a shadowy platform high in the tent, away from the crowd. The angel lay him down. The reverend’s eyes fluttered open. The crowd was applauding, roaring. The MC was speaking about something else by now and the titanic struggle between good and evil that the reverend had witnessed first hand was almost forgotten.

“How can I ever be forgiven for what I have been a party to?” the reverend said to the angel, looking up at him through teary eyes.

“What has been done has not been done by you, but to you, servant of God,” the angel said in his deep, comforting, resonant voice. “But even had you participated willingly, had you done it out of appreciation for the beauty of god’s creation, it would not have been a sin.”

The reverend’s face blanched. He saw the full heft of the angel’s stiff member still standing straight up above his crumpled body and he began to doubt the truth of the angel’s origins, for he knew that even Satan can appear as the Lord of Light.

“The laws of the book that you teach were abrogated by His son, servant of God – replaced by the admonition to love one another. Physical love is one facet of that love. It is not lust when it is not destructive.”

Though his moral guard was alert, there was sense to the angel’s words, and the warm blood that pumped through the reverend’s body at the sight of the angel’s magnificence and made his skin tingle merely underlined the argument. The truth was that the reverend’s own staff had stiffened again at the sight of the angel’s extra large bare body and at his firm grip as he had carried him into the air. It bounced like an enthusiastic child against his breast bone, thick and moist. Though the reverend rarely gave himself over to pleasuring it, for fear of losing himself in lust, the experiences of the day had given the reverend a new appetite. His mouth was dry and tingly. He licked his lips and the angel moved closer, allowing the reverend to suckle on the angel’s cock again. The angel’s body obliged him with sour wetness that coated his tongue and made him thirsty for his juice. Once again the reverend strained to accommodate all of it inside his mouth and the angel struggled to help him, but since the angel’s struggle with the demon his cock had grown to the equal of his dark twin, making it impossible. Before the reverend struggled too long, the angel pulled away, turned from him and dropped to all fours, his wings extended over his mountainously muscled back and his huge, high, round ass arched upward for the reverend’s appreciation.

“No!” the reverend shouted, even as his thick prick trembled with anticipation of penetration.

“I give myself to you freely. What I ask will be as pleasurable for me as it is for you, servant of God, and the act will honor our creator.”

Whether by the loss of will or the force of gravity, the reverend’s groin began to fall toward the crack between the angel’s smooth mounds of creamy flesh. The reverend’s cock gurgled pre-cum. He wiped it down the shaft and toyed with the concept of breaching the entrance to the angel’s ass by positioning himself there and rubbing its head in the deep fuzzy cleft.

He allowed himself the indulgence of sliding the head inside and felt every muscle of his rough hewn body tense in extreme delight. The angel tossed his thick neck from side to side and jerked backwards, ending the reverend’s indecision. He was inside and surfeited with such bliss that he could no longer conceive of retreat. One more backward push on the angel’s part was all the reverend needed to start his gentle rocking fuck into and out of the angel’s ass.

The reverend rubbed his rough hands over the immensity of the angel’s back and his tightly muscled waist and allowed himself to hold and caress his two foot cock as it quivered from his onslaught.

The reverend had never allowed himself physical pleasure with another creature, not even before he took on the cloth, not even as a horny young boy with a wild streak that his father had beaten out of him. The ecstasy along his penis and the pure pleasure that washed over his beefy body was inconceivably delightful. He could not imagine that he had lived so long and denied himself these sensations. He wondered briefly if sex with a woman was as intense, but he knew in an instant that nothing would top this for him. He realized why it had been so easy for him to deny himself the pleasures of women for so long.

As he fucked the angel, he felt the angel’s fleshy spear harden in his hands. He felt the angel thrusting back into him more frantically and finally releasing himself on the platform beneath them. The wet, pungent liquid that poured from him and coated the reverend’s hands weakened Reverend William’s resistance to his own ultimate pleasure. It sent him over the edge, pounding without control and filling the angel with the gism of a thousand unclaimed orgasms.