Woof!! Your writing is driving me wild, what skill. You think you have anything to put some hair on my chest? …and maybe everywhere else too? A thick dense manly pelt to show off!
"Cuntry Boy" is a strange name for a song. You didn't even know you had this record. It's not in a sleeve or labeled. You've certainly never heard of it or the artist. Cuntry Boi.
Huh.
You think nothing of it as you lower the needle. The first few chords of the song flow through your speakers. It's the typical twangy guitar you'd expect from a country tune. You finish your dishes and start thinking about what you want for dinner. Something light, maybe? Maybe try one of those recipes you've seen on -
Oh, my cuntry boy.
He's the sweetest thang you've ever seen.
He's got a nice voice. Smooth, youthful sounding. It's quite up tempo for a country song. The vocals sounded like they came out of absolute nowhere so you've forgotten what you were thinking about. Oh that's right, dinner! You were thinking about salmon and a salad, some cheesy garlic bread, maybe a little -
Oh, my cuntry boy,
Knows how to put a good meal down.
Corny ass lyrics. But anyway, your stomach is growling fiercely. You've never felt so hungry in your life. You're thinking of steaks and mashed potatoes and slices of sweet potato pie. You moan at the image of a hunk of pan fried ham next to five cheesy scrambled eggs and hash browns. Your stomach gurgles and grumbles in frustration. You open your fridge, and you blink in surprise at how full it is. There's absolutely no way that you would have all....of this.... Right? There's so much food you're a little overwhelmed at all the options.
But that comes with confusion. Why would you be overwhelmed by this? You've always kept a full fridge. You're a hungry -
Growing boy, just like my love for him.
The moan that comes out of your mouth is obscene. You blink as your vision blurs. Your spine snaps and pops, legs elongating as suddenly, you're looking at the top of your fridge. It should be extremely painful but instead, it feels good. Like a massage hitting the right spots as you groan, the soreness in your muscles coming from your joints and bones expanding to make you look proportional to your new height of 6'7". Your sweatpants are stopping at your calves, no actually above your calves. And the hemline of your flannel flutters above your waist. You can see your pubes peeking through the waistband of your sweats and briefs, because you're so tall your clothes are shrinking too small. Your hands pop and expand, thickening into big meaty palms crowned by long, thick fingers to match your longer arms and larger stature. You hold your massive hands in front of your face.
The first few drops of nervous sweat dot your forehead as your feet begin expanding. The pleasurable sensation seems tenfold here, like your widening and stretching soles, become huge stompers with thick toes, are becoming more sensitive. Your toes break through your socks and split them along the top.
You're still ferociously hungry but you slam the door and turn as your stomach feels like it's squirming. It feels oddly good as you lift your shirt and see abs forming through the skin. Dense, strong abs. The strength of your core is overwhelming and you drop your shirt, scrunching your browns in concern as your stomach roars. You place your hands on your stomach as you notice that there's more...give. Sweat drips from your brow as your stomach expands around your hands. The hard muscle gives away to densely muscled softness. Not a muscle gut, but the gut and core strength of a wrestler. The buttons on your flannel strain around your stomach as it thickens. You moan as you squeeze and massage the combination of muscle and fat. Your eyes snap open.
No, no this is - what the fuck is happening? Your -.
Head in the clouds and thinking of me/So many lonesome hours along dusty cuntry roads.
Cock swells in your sweatpants. What begins as an erection slowly becomes something more. You're not thinking of Cuntry Boi, you're thinking of men. Big, beefy, hairy men. And this isn't ain't new. But these images feel a little too real to be mere fantasy. Almost like your asshole feels a little empty, as hungry as your empty stomach. You clutch your head in confusion as your cock grows .... past its normal size. Your breathing becomes heavier as your cock thickens and bloats. You can feel all the muscles in your shaft pumping and expanding full of blood and sweaty cock meat. Even your head flares into a huge, gushing mushroom as your cock slips out from underneath your briefs and the sensitive head brushes against the fabric of your sweatpants. A huge wet stain appears as your knees nearly buckle and you grip onto the counter, falling forward and gasping at how far away everything is now. When your balls start inflating, you moan like a porn star as you actually cum. Untouched. Just gushing cum into your sweats as it drips down your legs as the image of you getting plowed in a flatbed rams its way into your mind.
My cuntry boy, growing just like his love for me
You gently grip the massive 10" meat stick between your legs. It's still hard and throbbing, and your balls feel like balloons between your thighs. Your nipples for some reason are buzzing. You're hyper aware of them hardening and thickening, their heightened sensitivity evident by how you can feel them rubbing against your flannel. There's an insane amount of pressure behind each nipple and you grit your teeth and close your eyes, hunched over your counter as you think about the huge muscle tits the men of your fantasies memories have. Your mouth drops open as your chest swells against your shirt. Pure dense muscle flooding into each pectoral before softening with an added few pounds of fat, the nipples expanding and poking like daggers through your shirt as the buttons begin straining. You open your eyes and see strands of dense, dark, sweaty hair swirling from between the straining buttons. With one massive hand, you cup one of your growing muscle tits and your eyes cross from the sensitivity, the muscle and fat piling underneath your fingers. You squeeze one and gasp as more cum fires out of your cock, dripping down your leg and splattering on the floor. Out of the corner of the eye you see -
He gives me eyes from across the room/Can't ignore a pretty boi like me.
The vinyl spinning. Fuck, you have gotta get to it. Gotta get to it. The rest of your buttons burst from your shirt as your tits take one final heave forward and the densely muscled globes pour out of them. Your cock is straining against your pants. One hand idly rubs and massages the muscle in your chest. You whimper and take a few unsteady steps towards your record player. Your chest wobbles and you whimper, biting your lip as you try to adjust to the heft of your torso. Your widening shoulders and the bulking muscles in your back shred your shirt. You close your eyes in defeat as your shirt splits apart and hangs limply from your huge shoulders. Everything back there seemingly built for the massive rack you've got. Except for your cock and torso, your arms and lower body look underdeveloped. The issue is that a part of you is waiting for the rest of your body to catch up, but really, the rest of your body is the real you, right?
And I can't ignore a man like him, and neither can the other Bois along this graveyard bar.
Wait a minute? You take a few tentative sniffs. That smell. That musk. It's not BO at all but this kind of -. Oh, fuck that's coming from you ain't it? You're not this musky. The musk is impossible to ignore, like a pheromone. It's intense and addicting. But this isn't you, Goddammit! In fact, why are you even lifting your arms to smell your pits. Your pits, which are hairer than usual, sweaty and smelling oh so -
Take me out back, I'll ride the bull. Grab 'im by the horns.
You're practically licking your armpits as you fish your cock out of your pants. Your cock and balls are just as hairy as your pits. Just as sweaty. Just as musky. You stroke your cock and remember all the football boys and wrestlers riding your cock and sucking your cock and worshipping your balls and them worshipping your ass and blowing your back out and-.
No. You're still stroking your cock over the waistband of your sweats as you make a mad dash for the record player. Cock slinging strands of pre everywhere as-.
Take you out back and you can ride the bull
You moan so loud you wonder if the windows rattle. Your ass is growing. The growth feels as good as your tits. Pressure and warm inflation. Your hips widen as fat and muscle pour into your ass and your sweats feel like they're about to give up. Huge fatty cheeks, swirling with a dusting of hair, that sensitive pink hole of yours becoming just as hairy, swell and grow, plush and grab-able, two pillows like your chest. Like a good cuntry boy, you can take as much as you can give. And this ass, huge and swelling still, a few tears forming in your sweats, is pretty much built for it. You collapse to your knees, whimpering, moaning and groaning as you spread your legs apart, the wobble of your cheeks making your cock lurch as pre oozes out of it. Your huge balls sag from beneath your rock solid cock, dripping all over your floors. So much muscle and fat fills your ass that some of it overflows into your thighs. Your thin thighs inflate. Muscle and fat piling underneath the skin and blowing them up into huge slabs of -.
Come on, cuntry boy lemme grab this bull by the horns.
All this talk about bulls is making you so horny you're starting to forget about stopping the song. Because all you can imagine is the cuntry twunk singing it and how good it would feel to have him bury his face between your -
Speaking of your ass, it rips through your sweatpants and the huge sweaty globes are released to the air. You are bent in a prime rutting position as your cock head brushes against the cabinets, smearing them with pre. Your thighs break the seams of your sweats as they slowly but surely close in on your balls, the hair on your thighs tickling your sensitive, churning balls. You've never felt this horny. Like your cock -
Oh.....
As Cuntry Boi holds his note, you moan as your throat thickens, your Adam's apple expanding as you detect the first inklings of a Southern accent dripping into your voice. Your brain feels like it's under a thick fog, and the fog is preventing you from crawling forward and -.
Cuntry boy I believe I can tame this bull.
You throw your arms up, flexing (almost) involuntarily, as your biceps expand. The dense muscle is covered up with a thick layer of fat. The ham hocks stretching the skin as fat and muscle pour into them and down into your forearms, and you get another powerful whiff of your musk. You're humping the air with your powerful hips, your ass clapping behind you and balls swinging as your thighs rip the rest of your sweatpants away. Your calves expand and fatten to support your slabs of thighs, that dense torso that continues to grow as more weight piles onto your form, taking you close to 250 pounds.
Make him just as sweet as pie/Oh, my cuntry boy.
Your cock is going to explode. Preferably in someone. Then you could cuddle them and fall asleep. Wake up next to each other coated in sweat and cum, and then you can make him a nice big cuntry boy breakfast and send him on his way, for another man to come and see if he can tame you. Your face rearranges painlessly. Cheeks softening, jaw sharpening. Your lips fatten and become just as sensitive and pink as your hole. A moustache blooms around your lip as a final rush of testosterone races through -.
Oh. Cuntry boy!
Oh indeed.
A geyser of cum erupts from your cock. You've never made this much cum before, but those massive balls of yours have enough space for them. Those overactive cum ducts make sure your balls are always full to bursting half the time, so much testosterone pumping through your veins. With each volley of cum, you forget that old life of yours. You remember horseback riding and doing another type of bareback riding, so horny and so insatiable. Your IQ plummets as you remember not being the best of students during school, not going to college and instead using your hot body for your dream job of being a porn actor. You came to the big city to introduce some Southern hospitality to these Yankees. Including if that meant fucking it into them. One whiff of you, one sight of those huge muscle tits, or that fat ass, or hell any part of your oversized, hyper sexy, hyper masculine body, would have even the straightest of men worshipping you, begging for your cock or a taste of that ass. When you finally stop cumming, there's a huge puddle of musky cum in front of you, the shots so strong it's landed on your records and on the wall behind it.
The record on the vinyl spits out static. Damn how long have you been edging?
Of course you're naked but the scraps of clothing around you is puzzling.
But your brain, your dumb, horny, cotton candy brain, doesn't give it much thought. You chuckle and dumbly
And anyway you've got a big dinner to make for yourself. And also so many cocks to ride. Asses to fuck. Tongues to let worship every part of your beefy, hairy body ....
You bite your lip in pleasure as your cock stiffens again. Thank the Lord you've got a shoot in an hour to unload your six shooter.
