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New Star Players
The first thing Derek Hale smelled was musk, so much that it was overwhelming like a jockstrap was in his face or a sweaty towel from a post-game shower. Ever since he and Stiles had left Beacon Hills, it never stopped the thought of the supernatural being around, even if it came about with dealing Derek’s transformations every full moon.
However, whether it was because Derek was the only one that wasn’t busying his day studying at college or paranoia they pulled with him from his hometown, he just couldn’t let go that there was always something strange going on. Even when Stiles tried to calm him down, telling him nothing weird was going on at campus, Derek found it hard to agree with him.
Last week’s findings brought him to the college fraternity, where he sensed something off with how one of the jocks smelled and even more so when he asked Stiles about the student.
“Oh yeah that’s Greg, though I think he has some stupid nickname now like Big G or something,” Stiles explained while he was mulling over some lecture notes. Derek scoffed.
“Big G?” Derek glanced over his shoulder where Stiles was still disinterestedly murmuring, tapping their pen on their notepad.
“Yeah I dunno, I never hung out with him much. He seemed cool but then out of nowhere he started hitting the gym, next semester I saw him and now he’s one of the frat guys. Why?”
Derek opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped the words realising that the last thing Stiles wanted to focus on was another one of his conspiracies. In the months since they had left the town together, nothing bad had happened to them.
The only time something did happen was when they went back, almost frozen into stone statues. He saw the way Stiles was hunched over, tense and rigid as they were focused only on their notes. He waited for a while staring at his boyfriend before realising they weren’t even gonna ask what he was gonna say. Stiles was far from interested and even if he was, clearly worrying about some guy he barely knew wasn’t high on the priority list.
Sometimes Derek wondered if there was something, if there was some proof of supernatural happenings, that something was going on, would Stiles even care? If it wasn’t threatening them or anyone else, would he want to find out more? He knew of a Stiles who suspected someone on his lacrosse team of being a lycanthrope and doing everything to find out why, just because.
But the Stiles that was with him, didn’t seem to pay attention to that sort of thing, especially since he enrolled in college, something he was adamant about. When the two of them set off out of Beacon Hills to build up their life together, he really meant it. Derek did too, he just never realised how much the supernatural was his life, regardless of whether he wanted it to be or not.
It was at this moment he realised just how pivotal his choices were. He could either pursue it, see why there was such a change in Greg, the man who smelled…distinct, different, the unmistakable scent of magic. But he could also abandon it. He looked to Stiles and knew that the choice was already made for him. He had to keep Stiles safe, at least that’s what Derek told himself and he knew he would have to investigate.
That was why not even two days later, he was stalking through the campus, having followed Greg to the campus gym. Part of him thought the man might have noticed him following, but it was clear from his goofy demeanour that there wasn’t a care in the world or a thought behind those eyes.
He just had to figure out if that was something they were naturally like…or if something else caused it. A few moments later, Greg’s magical scent was snuffed out by musk.
There was so much that it was hard to think it was suspicious, but it was more potent than any of the gyms or places where plenty of musk would emanate from. There was something different in the locker room and it made Derek almost dizzy as he looked around. He thought that perhaps it was a spell or some sort of curse or even glamour potion, just something the man was doing to pull off such a huge change in his body.
But from what he could see, Greg was seriously working out. Though it didn’t snuff out all of Derek’s senses. He narrowed his eyes as he watched them doing bench presses. He sighed and backed away, realising what he was doing.
The hell is wrong with you Derek? You find out a guy is totally normal if…
Derek raised a brow and looked at Greg who was starting to struggle with the settings on a treadmill. A little slow…and you’re disappointed? He shook his head and sighed. Stiles was right, there was nothing going on or if there was, he should have just let it all alone. Perhaps that scent of ‘magic’ was all in his head, clearly his nose wasn’t as good as it used to if it was overwhelmed by the musk in a locker room. He went to leave when his ears pricked up suddenly at the sound of something behind him. If he turned around and saw someone, he would have dismissed it as nothing.
But he could definitely sense some breathing, that someone…or something was in the locker room and for some reason they chose to hide. His eyes scanned the room, trying to see if he could sense where they were, but they had gone silent, holding their breath and the musk around was too distracting for him to properly focus.
“Hello?” Derek asked to nobody in particular. It was a stupid move but the only one he could play, even if it was in a game that he already told himself he should have never started to begin with. It was probably nothing, he told himself, even if it felt like a lie just to make himself…and in some way Stiles, feel better. Derek went to walk out of the locker room and back out the gym when he heard it again, some sort of movement, some breathing. He turned around at once. “Alright I’m not gonna-”
That’s when it happened. Though it was hard to say what was it to begin with. All of a sudden, quicker than the werewolf could even react to, there was a tugging. His body was grasped by something, a heavy limb over chest, grappling him, yanking him back. If he just had a moment, he would have been able to use his strength to break out of the grip, but that’s when something was clasped over him. It was only when he realised just how much stronger the musk had become, that he realised it was a sweaty jockstrap.
The musk was so overwhelming that it suddenly made him almost melt in the stranger’s grasp, eyes flaring wide in surprise at what was happening…and how good it felt. How much it took over his senses. How it made everything feel so…weak and distant, like he was suddenly plunged into a dream with the same force of a tidal wave swallowing him whole. Derek’s senses, usually sharp and alert, felt dulled to the point of uselessness.
Every instinct screamed at him to fight back, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
He tried to fight back even still, tried to overcome the malaise that invaded his senses and tried to fight back. But there was nothing that was working. Even as he managed to muster his arms to push back, all he could do was moan as he tried to thrash around in the man’s grasp. His nails started to sharpen into claws, the wide eyes of surprise soon forming the deep red eyes of his lycanthropy and he felt hair threaten to swell from his skin.
But the grip on him tightened and he heard a chuckle before a deep voice shushed him, forcing Derek into some state of calm as he continued to try and activate his powers. Derek tried to focus, tried to pull himself out of the fog. The musk was oppressive, flooding his lungs, his mind, every corner of his being.
He couldn’t tell if it was magic or something else entirely, but it was potent.
Too…distracting.
“Looks like someone sniffed out the wrong trail,” a deep, mocking voice whispered into his ear, the heat of their breath brushing against his skin. Derek tried again to do anything he could to beat them back, but all he could do was let out a whimper, a grunt that sounded suspiciously too much like a groan as the man continued to chuckle. “You don’t know me, but I know you…now why are you trying to stalk one of my new…proteges?”
The man asked, his deep voice sounded like one used to giving out commands, like he was a drill sergeant…or a coach.
“W-What the hell?!” That was all Derek could say and the man chuckled like it was a reasonable question.
“Relax,” the voice continued, the tone almost playful but with a sinister edge. “You’re not going anywhere boy. Not until we’ve had a little chat…you see my name’s Coach Colton…”
The jockstrap was removed and Derek could finally breathe again, even if the oppressive heavy scent of the musk still lingered in the air, making his legs wobble as he was spun around. “And you’re going to be my new star player.
“Wh-” Derek only saw the man for a second, a tall burly hunk of a man that he had seen somewhere before, perhaps on campus or on the college website.
Coach Colton towered over him, his presence almost suffocating, exuding an air of authority mixed with something far darker. His broad shoulders, thick arms, and piercing green eyes carried the weight of someone who wasn’t just in charge but knew exactly how to control others.
He even had the body of someone who seemed ex-military, his thick muscles and those heavy pecs that looked like they would spill out of his tight compression shirt. The shorts that clung to the man’s quads and the boots that even looked like heavy military boots. But that was all Derek could see for just a flash before the man stuck his tongue down his throat, pushing Derek up against the lockers and for once, making the man groan before he pulled away. Derek bared his teeth, acting as if he pushed Coach Colton away.
“Y-You fuck! The hell was that?! W-Who are you? What did you do to Greg? I could smell the magic y’know, if you think y-yo-ohhgh-”
Derek suddenly clutched his stomach.
Coach Colton just clapped slowly, chuckling as he looked the man over.
“Feeling alright there? See I saw you snooping on my latest pro- I mean…my protege, sure I can tell you the truth since you won’t understand it anyway.” Coach Colton gloated as he took a step closer, Derek managed to stumble away, beginning to grunt as he broke into a sweat.
“W-What do you…mean? What-What did you…do to me?” Derek grunted as he glanced down, seeing his bulge beginning to grow…and then throb with a life of its own. His nails that were still sharp claws began to recede and though he couldn’t see it, the heat behind his eyes, the red glow began to dim.
“You wanna know what I really did to Greg? Nothing he didn’t ask for. The kid wanted to be stronger, faster, better. All I did was… give him the tools.” He leaned in closer, his grin widening. The coach looked more a wolf in that moment than Derek ever did. “The same tools I’m giving you.”
“W-What do you-you mean broooo?” Almost like a howl to the moon, Derek moaned out the last word before he clasped a hand over his mouth, shocked before the sound of wet churning flush caught his attention and the sensation of his sensitive bulge practically rutting against his inner thigh. “What the fuck did I just say you bast-ba…”
“Aw come on, sound it out…boy.”
At that Derek moaned, not one that was out of any pain or pressure but one purely concocted of pleasure, his voice more airy. It was the kind of moan that he only shared with Stiles in the bedroom and just like then, it made him blush, all the heat behind his eyes now resided in his cheeks. Coach Colton gave a command. Derek’s body couldn’t help but answer.
“Brooooo…” Derek’s cock flared once more, the foreskin now pulled back as the sensitive head rubbed against the inside of his boxers and the sensation alone made him whimper.
“I find the best way to help men is…to work it like a computer. Was never good at those things but…to make space for something new, you have to get rid of something. To make space for you to be one of my boys…” Coach Colton grabbed Derek’s bulge. “We have to get rid of something old…like say…your old self.”
“N-No you caaahhnnt-” Derek didn’t have a choice but to gyrate into Coach Colton’s touch as he could feel the man pin him against the gym lockers and kiss him.
There was a sharpness to the kisses, rough from the spectre of a beard that brushed against his skin as the man continued to trail kisses down his neck…then his body and then suddenly to his cock. He didn’t cum, not yet, wanting to hold onto himself in case Coach Colton was telling the truth. But there was nothing he could do from whimpering, weakly failing to push at the coach when he felt them pull down his jeans and reveal his cock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
His…transformations into a werewolf could have effects on his genitalia, but nothing like this. Without even so much as a stark change, his cock had clearly grown at least an inch, like it needed to make space, like what Coach Colton was saying was right.
Everything he was…was starting to trail down into his throbbing sensitive cock.
The heat behind his eyes as he tried to shift wasn’t just going down to his cheeks, it was trailing down his body like Coach Colton’s kisses, all the way down…to his throbbing cock.
Derek wanted to get away but the musk was getting to him and Coach Colton could sense it, but he still had fight in him, making the coach both annoyed…and impressed.
“Here…let your new coach help you,” the man purred before he kissed the tip of Derek’s cock and all Derek could do was moan in pleasure and see sparks as in an instant his pecs inflated and muscles began to grow.
Like his body was a balloon, it suddenly swelled up like the Hulk in one of those superhero movies Stiles loved to watch, only growing an inch larger but it was noticeable enough and made Derek heavier, suddenly finding it even more difficult to control his body, not used to the ten pounds of muscle that was stacked onto him.
“N-Noohhhh-” Derek’s entire body shuddered, rattling against the lockers. It wasn’t just ten pounds of muscles growing but what felt like ten percent of his memories escaping to his balls, inflating too, pumped up with his previous self. Memories of Beacon Hills, of Stiles, of everything that made him who he was, seemed to dissolve into the throbbing pulse of his cock and balls. Each shuddering moan brought with it a faint sense of loss, as if parts of him were being siphoned away into the growing weight between his legs. He didn’t even know balls could possibly grow that big, even with whatever magic was being used against him. Coach Colton grinned, his predatory gaze locked onto Derek’s changing form.
“That’s it, boy. Let it all go. You don’t need all that baggage weighing you down. You’re going to be something new, something stronger, one of my star players.”
Something about the approval in the his coach’s voice made him yearn for more. Derek forgot all his plans for resistance, of trying to get Stiles’ help, trying to get anyone’s help. His body was no longer betraying him but merely responding to the new instincts in his head to listen and obey his coach and that’s when he could feel that there wasn’t just old memories going down to his shaft and swelling balls. But new memories were coming in with every moan, every mutter, every breath that took in more in of the musk that was emanating from both Coach Colton and the room around him, the jockstrap that was gagging him and the huge sweaty muscles he was growing.
“Bro…” Derek’s voice was…almost duller, slightly more bassy and almost entirely unrecognizable to him. The word slipped out again, unbidden, like a mantra being forced into his very being. He felt like he had an entirely new accent, one that gave him the voice of a dude bro as he continued to grow with each inhale, each kiss Coach Colton gave to his cock, each spark of pleasure that threatened to spill into his climax. “W-what…are you…doing to me b-brrrr-?”
“Go on…say it…” Coach kissed his cock again.
“Bro…” Derek managed to choke out, his voice trembling as his resistance continued to crumble.
His pecs swelled first, the flat planes of his chest rounding out into heavy slabs of muscle that pushed against his shirt, stretching the fabric taut. The seams along his shoulders strained and popped as they surged in size, giving him the look of someone who had spent years under heavy weights in the gym. He could even remember what part of the workout helped him gain the stature, the widening shoulders that he needed to be a powerhouse on the football field.
Derek’s arms followed, biceps bulging with every strained breath, veins snaking over his thickening forearms as he could remember working out…working out with Greg. His muscles were no longer scarred and with wounds brought on from supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills but instead were worn from the intense training. The only bruises he sported were the ones he got on the field, crashing into the opposite team as he tackled his way through them to score a touchdown.
“Coming along so beautifully…boy…” Coach Colton continued to tease Derek’s cock, letting each kiss cause a spurt of pre-cum to spill out, almost like they were mini orgasms, but still just as impactful as surges of pleasure continued to come out of Derek. “That’s what I’m talking about. Big, strong, unstoppable.”
Derek let out a guttural groan as his torso lengthened and thickened, each ridge of his abs carving itself into prominence until they resembled a washboard of pure strength, framing his midsection like armour.
They weren’t just for looks.
Derek’s own muscles had been a mixture of working out and blessed with the supernatural strength that meant he’d naturally built up muscles over the years. But the supernatural part of him was fading with the memories of it, replaced instead with dedication and discipline in the gym, playing so well in his school back in Beacon Hills that he scored a sports scholarship to the college as he grew slightly younger.
No longer did he resemble the weary traumatised werewolf in his late twenties but instead reverted back to being 21 as more scars of his previous life were smoothed over. A couple of grey hairs reverted back to their usual dark.
“Such a good boy for me…on the field…”
“M-Mmmf-” Derek wasn’t going to let go without a fight, one final burst of his feral nature like he was a wolf locked away in a cage. “C-Call Stiles!” He always wondered why phones nowadays even needed voice commands but now he was happier than ever when he could feel his phone buzz in response. Coach Colton glared up at response before reaching into Derek’s back pocket and pull the phone at once.
“Derek? Babe wha-”
“The gym! He-”
The call was already ended and the phone thrown to the side, already forgotten like much of Derek’s previous self. His clothes were being torn apart, letting Derek able to see his muscular form as he started to feel his jeans growing taut even when they had been pulled down at his ankles. Another kiss at his cock and by now it was drooling, making Derek’s eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head as he tried the same plan again.
“Call…Call…” But he couldn’t even remember his boyfriend’s name. His legs were next, quads ballooning outward with a sudden, intense pressure.
The denim of his jeans couldn’t contain the sheer mass forming beneath, splitting apart at the seams to reveal powerful thighs that rippled with every twitch. His calves swelled as well, thick cords of muscle pressing against his skin and giving him the stance of a linebacker ready to charge.
Derek’s ass rounded out, firm and muscular, completing the hulking frame of an athlete. The once-comfortable boxers beneath his torn jeans struggled to contain his now-massive bulge, which throbbed in time with his hammering heartbeat.
“There we go…Come on star player…”
“P-Pleaseee bruhhhh-” Derek gyrated, almost getting his swollen cock toward his coach’s lips.
His neck thickened, veins standing out as his Adam’s apple bobbed with every gasp for air. His jawline sharpened, his features taking on a more rugged, almost statuesque quality that oozed confidence and raw masculinity. His features were still the same, still recognisable and somehow that made it all the more arousing knowing that he was still him…but different all the same.
A whole new life, a whole different personality and a whole lot of IQ trailing out of his cock like the pre-cum that pooled out of his swollen head. He flexed instinctively, his biceps bulging with intimidating size, and the remnants of Derek Hale, the brooding, cautious werewolf was basically gone as with another kiss at his cock he couldn’t stop it anymore.
He was becoming Derek Hale, the football player, most popular and talented guy in his highschool as he continued to grow, new memories swirling of football formations, gym workouts, games, training, championships…all of his old replaced by the new before his cock finally throbbed one more time and strings of cum shot out.
The climax hit him like the musk did, a wave that invaded his body as pleasure made him shake and shudder, making him unable to feel anything else but how good his coach made him feel. Strings of white hot cum continued and flowed out of his cock all over his front, dripping down his glazed and sweaty muscles.
“Say it,” Coach Colton commanded, his voice a low growl filled with authority. “Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m your star player dude,” Derek flexed his bicep and let out a guffaw, chuckling as he looked over at Coach Colton and wanted nothing more than another kiss. “Uh…can I shower?” Coach Colton nodded, pleased that the man even needed to ask his permission as he looked at his dull blue eyes. The man went for a quick shower, all the while Coach Colton smirked to himself before he suddenly sensed something. A faint buzzing. Coach Colton furrowed his brows as he approached and looked beneath one of the benches where he saw a silver phone rattling away. He smirked and grabbed at it, seeing a name on the caller ID, Stiles.
He hung up and waited for his new star player to finish their shower. He could do with a new quarterback.
• • •
Stiles Stilinski didn’t know what was up with Derek’s call. But he could tell that clearly they were in some sort of trouble, their voice strained and the call hanging up suddenly. He thought that his boyfriend must have been caught skulking around somewhere in the campus and tried to tell him.
But when he went searching around, he couldn’t find him anywhere and no matter how many times he called, Derek didn’t answer. The only place he could remember them mentioning was something about a gym.
But why Derek would have been there when he already had a membership at a gym in town, Stiles couldn’t say. He felt a bit bad, perhaps not taking whatever Derek was up to seriously enough, but he didn’t want to focus on any supernatural going ons. He just wanted a normal life at a normal college.
Derek couldn’t live without the danger and now Stiles was the one paying for it.
He traipsed through the gym, wondering how Derek even got in without a student ID.
For a moment, he could have sworn that someone doing bench presses was Derek or at least looked a lot like them, maybe a more muscular brother who decided to pursue sports instead of supernatural investigations.
Stiles stared at the man and wanted to say something, but he realised just how stupid that sounded. All he needed to do right now was focus on finding Derek and sorting out whatever mess he got himself involved with.
That’s when he stumbled into the locker room and almost bumped into the tall and buff body of Coach Colton.
“Shit sorry,” Stiles murmured. He blinked looking at the Coach. “Uh hey sir, have you seen someone around here? I’m looking for my boyfriend, he’s about this tall,” Stiles held up his hand, at least a head higher than himself. “Dark hair, muscular, you know what I can just show you a picture?”
“Hm, alright…” Coach Colton spoke. Come closer, his eyes said as he looked over at Stiles, wanting the man to approach. Stiles could sense that something was awry but he wasn’t sure what was wrong until it was too late.
As Stiles was busy, distracted by trying to scroll for a picture of Derek, he never saw Coach Colton coming until it was too late and he suddenly felt a faceful of warm musk in his face as a trainer was placed right on his face.
Stiles grunted and yelled out loud, eyes widening as he tried to escape out of the coach’s grasp but knew it was a losing game from how strong the man was. Stiles struggled, but Coach Colton’s grip was like iron, his towering form radiating an unnatural strength. Stiles’ protests were muffled against the trainer, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur as a strange, heady warmth seeped into his senses.
“Relax, Stilinski,” Coach Colton said, his tone almost smug. “You’ll feel better soon. Just let it take hold.”
Stiles felt let go of the grasp, coughing and spluttering as he tried to stop breathing in any of the musk but the warm air of the locker room was heavy with it. He tried to say something, but all he could do was let out a moan as he felt his cock began to throb.
“W-What the fuck is wrong with you?! Where’s Derek- Where…Whe…Whaaaaaaa-” Stiles groaned and felt his hips hump the air when he felt his cock throbbing and suddenly swelling, inflating, snaking out of his boxers. “N-Noh-ohhhhhh-” Stiles tried his best to not fall to his knees as he glared up at Coach Colton who smiled down at him. “W-What have you done to me?!” Coach Colton chuckled in response.
“You wanted to find out what happened to Derek, well…I’m sure he’ll show you.” As if on cue, Derek showed up…at least it wasn’t Derek, it was someone who looked vaguely like Derek but they were more muscular, macho, with the build of a professional footballer, even in the uniform and helmet. Stiles looked shocked…terrified and then aroused as his cock continued to grow another inch, his memories churning down into his balls and cock.
But unlike Derek who had the advantage of his supernatural physiology, Stiles had no such protection. In fact all he could do was whimper as he looked down and wished that he didn’t have the active urge to stroke his cock.
“Y-You bastard.”
“Oh careful with the b words…though the only one you’ll be saying is bro or bruh, right Derek?” Coach Colton laughed again as Derek nodded with a dumb smile on his face.
“Yeah bro…”
“And bros help each other don’t they? Why don’t you help your new bro, Stiles here?” Coach said it like it was a suggestion but Derek knew better than anyone that there was no saying no to Coach Colton. He nodded and began walking over to Stiles who looked up at his hulking boyfriend.
“D-Derek babe this isn’t you. You gotta- MMMRPH!” Derek silenced Stiles with a kiss that came across rougher than intended, his strength something he still wasn’t used to as he made out with the man.
“Shh don’t worry bro let me help,” and that was the only part of Derek that Stiles could recognise, the love in his gaze that even this curse couldn’t defeat. It distracted him enough for Derek to yank down Stiles’ jeans and boxers with one move and suddenly spin him.
“O-Oh fuck Derek please…” Stiles wasn’t quite sure if he was resisting or just merely begging for more. But he knew that his thoughts and plans of trying to resist, of remembering every method to get out of some creature’s grasp or ways to get rid of magical curses.
In fact he felt most of his memories were…shifting, one in particular of him and Scott playing for the lacrosse team. He could remember the field underfoot, the cheer of the crowd, the thrill of the game.
But details were starting to be rewritten, the grass was greener.
The burgundy uniforms were slightly brighter with different names and numbers on the back. It wasn’t Scott that was beside him but instead the familiar figure of Derek, slightly smaller, less muscular, younger but definitely still there. The sport itself had changed from lacrosse to football as he remembered just how heavy his uniform was, how he met Derek through their team.
Derek plunged into Stiles with a slick and sweaty cock that slid into him with ease, as it made contact Stiles could feel his ass beginning to thicken. The quads were the next part of his body to inflate as Derek didn’t ram into him with a roughness he felt from their kiss, but instead a slow and loving rhythm as he slid in and out of his growing ass.
“You know what’s happening? You’re gonna leak out…all that old stuff, your degree, your smarts…forget all about that. You’re Sti, on my team through a sports scholarship, ain’t that right Sti?” Coach Colton spoke and though Stiles shook his head and whimpered in response, he was soon silenced when the same musky trainer was put on his mouth.
He could somehow tell from his new memories that the musk was from Derek as more and more of the supernatural events throughout Beacon Hills began to leak down to his cock and growing balls.
That’s when he could feel his hands growing, enlarging as he remembered being the best thrower on the team, tossing the ball to Derek and helping him score the winning touchdown.
“D-Derek…please…” he whimpered, his hands gripping the locker for stability as his cock pulsed again, every throb seeming to pull more of his past self away. His toned, lean frame was becoming bulky, packed with muscle that wasn’t just foreign, it was wrong. But it felt so right. Stiles could feel the creeping allure of it as each change brought a strange sense of belonging.
Derek, or the version of Derek now towering over him, didn’t speak. His actions were guided by something primal, but his hands were gentle as they steadied Stiles, as though he were comforting his teammate rather than reshaping his boyfriend. Stiles felt Derek’s warm breath against his neck, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
“You’re gonna love it, bro,” Derek said at last, his voice deep and sluggish, his words slurred with the kind of lazy confidence Stiles had never associated with him.
Stiles tried to yell, but the words came out weak, muffled against the trainer that Coach Colton pressed back over his face. The musk was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet somehow intoxicating. His resistance faltered as more memories twisted in his mind.
The Beacon Hills library, where he’d spent countless hours researching supernatural lore? Gone. Instead, he remembered the weight room, the hours spent spotting Derek and the other guys, the camaraderie that came with being part of a team.
His dad’s proud smile when Stiles scored his first lacrosse goal was replaced with a memory of his dad cheering from the stands at his football games, shouting encouragement as Stiles threw perfect spirals down the field.
Stiles’ could feel his legs threatening to buckle as they continued to grow more muscular. The ridges of muscle that were fast forming over his entire body made him feel as heavy as his mind, his own thoughts felt like swimming through molasses as they were rewritten.
He couldn’t think.
All he could do was feel and what he felt next as Derek continued plunging into him, fucking him faster so the sound of his ass being clapped filled the lockerroom were his calves. His calves bulged with muscle that made his stance feel unshakable. Stiles tried to reach out, thinking that if he could just get rid of the shoe that was clad over his face, the musk that he loved so much about his bro Derek, that he could think straight. But as he tried to raise his arm, his shoulders broadened and biceps began to thicken.
His neck thickened, and he felt his jawline shift into something more chiseled, more masculine.
His hands, once nimble and dexterous, were now rough and broad, calloused from countless hours gripping footballs and weights. His hips bucked involuntarily as Derek continued his steady rhythm, each thrust sending another pulse of change through him. His cock was massive now, leaking precum that splattered the locker room floor as his balls swelled heavy and full, laden with the remnants of his old life.
“You’re almost there, Sti,” Coach Colton said, his voice smooth and commanding. “The team’s gonna be lucky to have a quarterback like you.”
“Q-quarterback…”
Stiles muttered, the word rolling off his tongue like it belonged. He blinked, struggling to hold on to his identity, but the memories were too vivid, too real. He could see himself on the field, the roar of the crowd in his ears, the weight of the helmet on his head. He could feel the pride of leading his team to victory, of celebrating with Derek in the locker room afterward, their sweaty bodies pressed together in a victory embrace, how good it felt to kiss him, to fuck him. No matter what changed about them, there was always a part of Stiles, the old him, a remnant that was so glad that he at least got to keep Derek.
His thoughts slowed, his worries faded, and his focus narrowed to the simple joys of the game, the team, and the bond he shared with his bro…his boyfriend.
Even as his neck thickened, his face grew more square and his spiky hair began to buzz to grow shorter, all Stiles could do was let himself give in. His cock was so close and he could feel Derek was getting close to based on how much the man was moaning, pounding into his prostate and the pleasure pulsing through the two of them. Coach Colton removed the trainer, letting Stiles gasp for air, but it was too late. He looked up with wide, adoring eyes, a goofy smile spreading across his face.
“Dude,” Stiles said, his voice thick and slow, “fuck…so close bro, you’re gonna make me cum.” Stiles, or what was left of him, couldn’t hold it back any longer. The pressure building inside him was unbearable, his cock throbbing with a heat that radiated through his entire body. Derek’s steady rhythm pushed him further, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, mingling with the electric buzz of his transformation.
His cock swelled one final time, precum dripping in heavy streams as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Stiles’ mind, already drowning in the flood of new memories and sensations, teetered on the edge of release.
“Cum for me bro!” Derek moaned and Stiles let out a strangled cry as his cock erupted, thick ropes of cum painting the lockers and floor. Derek grunted and held him closer as his own cock throbbed and pulsed, cumming his jock seed right into Stiles as the two of them were together in a tangled mess of pleasure in the locker room, groaning and moaning together, gyrating their slick muscular bodies as Stiles continued to cum again and again in a crescendo of pleasure that wiped away the old Stiles…and left him as Sti, the new bro.
The two of them panted with relief as they finally separated, leaving them out of breath more than any workout or game.
“Atta boy,” Coach Colton said with a smirk, clapping Sti on the back as he stood unsteadily. “You’re ready now.”
“Thanks Coach…” was all Sti could say as he grinned, smirking as he looked at Derek. “Wanna hit the showers bro?”
“Aw yeah man, come on,” Derek replied and Coach Colton watched the two of them walking off side by side. It was incredible, the ‘curse’ that the both of them thought they were facing was actually a spell…one to allow a man to live out their true desires, if for a while.
All that resistance and the both of them just couldn’t help but enjoy being dumb hot bros in love with each other to forget about the stress of their old lives, just like Greg and just like many men who were gonna be on the football team for the semester.
There would be plenty more men to change, but for now Coach Colton grinned and left his new star players alone to enjoy themselves…and their new bodies.
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Elastagion: The Infected
Elastagion (noun): the transmission or spread of spandex fetishism through direct or indirect contact.
—
“Morning sunshine.”
Jonny shielded his eyes playfully as he rotated himself underneath the sheets.
“Ah, my eyes!”
“It’s not that bright outside,” Romeo scoffed.
“Yeah but those pale buttocks of yours are blinding.”
Jonny smirked, watching Romeo’s face twist humorously.
“You had a lot of nice things to say last night when you had your face in it,” Romeo retorted.
Jonny pulled himself up. “My hunger made me delusional.”
They both smiled, knowing that they had enjoyed last night’s adventure. They had both met at some giant rave with the usual fare: bouncing lights and scantily glad homosexuals like themselves. Jonny had come with a group of his friends, all twinkish in size and scale.
Roughly halfway through the evening, Jonny felt a pair of eyes latch onto him. He could feel the cinematic presence of the moment as he zeroed in on a sweaty male across the dance floor. Minutes later, Jonny and Romeo were tangled up in a bathroom stall. Hours later, they were tangled up again in Romeo’s apartment.
“What time is it anyway?”
“A little before 11,” Romeo replied, tossing on a black shirt that had been discarded on the floor. Not from the night before, Jonny noted.
“Are you already heading out?”
“Yeah.” Romeo hoisted a pair of black spandex briefs up his legs. Those had to have been from the night before. “Why, are you gonna miss me?”
Jonny pondered this, “I don’t think I’ve decided yet.”
Both of them knew he would. Their night had been fantastic.
“Oh, not to kill the mood but, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Romeo replied, searching for a pair of pants.
“Do you have any like, STDs or something I should be aware of?”
Romeo gave a puzzled look.
“I know that we already did stuff last night,” Jonny backpedalled. “I just forgot to ask in the heat of it all and like, I’m a little bit of a germaphobic is all.”
Romeo appeared tense at first, but he relaxed after a moment. “Don’t worry, I’m clean.”
Jonny took a breath. His eyes followed Romeo as he continued to busy himself. Jonny could not help but admire the other man’s physique. The broad shoulders, the long torso. There was something so inherently masculine about Romeo that Jonny naturally did not have. If only he would have grown taller than five and a half feet.
“So uh, food’s in the fridge if you want some,” Romeo started. He was playing with his own reflection, teasing his curtain bangs to find the perfect shape. “And clothes are in the closet.”
“‘Clothes’?”
“You don’t remember?” Romeo turned. “Your outfit was shredded last night.”
“Really?” Jonny could not remember that happening.
“And covered in someone else’s vomit,” Romeo quickly added. Jonny’s face grew green. Even if he could not recall the incident, he was glad the clothes were gone now. “Anyway, I figure I’ll be seeing you around so you can return the clothes then.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Unless you want to keep them,” Romeo winked, which Jonny did not know how to interpret. With his outfit assembled and bag in hand, Romeo made his way to the door. “See ya."
And with that, Romeo was gone. Jonny heard the massive footfalls in the hallway slowly disappear, taking his dream boyfriend-turned-one night stand away from him. At least for now, hopefully not forever.
Although he had no other plans for the day, Jonny decided to exit the apartment as fast as he could. First was a quick visit to the bathroom for a check-up. Last night’s eye shadow was somehow holding strong, and his bleached hair still held the boyish spring he loved. The rest of his skinny body appeared untouched, just a little pale, so he continued with his mission. He skipped the kitchen–he assumed it was only protein-related meals in the fridge–and moved to the closet. Jonny did not know what he was expecting, but it certainly was not a giant walk-in.
“Woah…” The space was huge, comically even. It was like something out of a sitcom set where a real city dweller would know that this size of a closet was a myth. But here it was, and by god was it filled with clothes. Jonny's eyes traced each shelf, trying to pick up any clues as to what Romeo did for work. There was some business casual, some business formal, and even a couple of tuxedos. But what really caught Jonny’s eye was the back wall of the closet: a neon-colored shrine to spandex.
Long-sleeved, tees, tanks; briefs, shorts, pants. Full-body lycra and wrestling singlets. Items of clothes even the twink Jonny was not familiar with. And all of it, every single piece, was spandex.
“Dear god.” Jonny approached the display, both in awe and fear of the collection. It was all so much to take in, especially when considering the man it belonged to. Was Romeo just super athletic? Was he a collector of name brands? Was there some kind of fetish around spandex? So many questions, and there was no one to answer them. There was no one here to tell Jonny that he could not investigate further. And there was no one to stop Jonny from plunging his hand into the elastane abyss.
Instantly, his hands were greeted by the cool plastic fabric. It was glossy, fluid, contouring to Jonny’s movements as his hands brushed upon each article. The sleek material was durable yet delicate, almost satin-like to the touch. The nerves in his fingertips tingled with appreciation, sending currents across his body and down to his crotch. Jonny did not recognize that he was popping a semi as he reached for a random article.
“Nike,” Jonny whispered the brand name like it was a prayer. In his hand was a cross between spandex briefs and running shorts. Maybe long enough to not be underwear, and maybe not long enough to prevent eyebrows from being raised. Their white color hinted at innocence, but Jonny could feel something stronger underneath the fabric. He was mesmerized.
Without a second thought, Jonny stripped himself of his tiny briefs and gingerly placed his legs into the holes of the spandex shorts. Each time one of his tiny, delicate hairs came in contact with the spandex a shiver erupted across his skin. There was something more to the shorts, something more to the spandex collection that was polluting Jonny’s fragile ecosystem. But he did not care, for he was too captivated by the sensuous feeling of the shorts grabbing onto his legs, cradling his behind, and finally, grasping his pouch.
As soon as the elastic sealed itself to Jonny’s waist, he realized something was wrong. The shorts, the spandex, were dirty, contaminated even. He did not know by what, but he could sense it was something dangerous. Something Romeo chose not to disclose.
A wave rushed across Jonny’s body, freezing him. Jonny could still process what was happening around him, and luckily he could see himself in a mirror beside the wall of spandex, but he could not move. He desperately tried to call out, to act, to do anything, but instead he was trapped, infected by whatever lay beneath the synthetic fiber.
A second wave dashed across Jonny’s body, this time originating from the shorts. Helplessly, Jonny watched as his body began to lengthen out before him in the mirror. 5’7”, 5’8”. It was like a photoshop tool was being used to alter reality. 5’11”, 6’. His legs were pulled like taffy, with his torso not too far behind. Before he could process that the wave had dissipated, a number popped into his head. 75. 75 inches. As in six feet and three inches. Jonny did not know what was scarier: having ascended nine inches in less than a minute or not knowing where the number 75 had come from.
The third wave was stronger. Instead of a sprint it rumbled like an earthquake, sending shocks from its spandex epicenter. Again, Jonny could do nothing as the changes developed across his body. It began at the midsection, the ripples evolving his musculature to create a well-defined core. Abdominals began to stack upon each other like bricks, creating a wall to support the two pectorals that jutted out on top. Forced to make space, Jonny’s shoulder blades pushed outward, supporting the bulging biceps and triceps that lead down to the thickening sausages that were his fingers.
At the same time, the shocks were descending lower, creating two massive trunks that could truly appreciate the flexibility and grip of the spandex. Once the quadriceps had developed, it was onto the knees, creating solid caps to shelter the luxurious diamond calves beneath them. As a finishing touch, Jonny’s terrified eyes stared on as his dainty feet began to bloat larger and larger. The soles widened out as each toe gained its own share of meat. Jonny’s feet became monstrous; he did not want to know their size. Unfortunately, as if on cue, the number 14 popped into his head.
By the time the third wave fizzled out, Jonny could feel the final push coming. If it could, his body would have shook with trepidation, but it remained petrified. Even his eyes stood still, the window that could have displayed Jonny’s fear completely shut off from the world. There was nothing he could do as he felt the pair of silky, smooth spandex shorts gather up their remaining power.
The fourth wave was the battering ram, slamming through Jonny’s body towards its final target: the head. It crashed through Jonny’s neck, ballooning the skin and Adam’s apple outwards to make room. As soon as it reached his head, it exploded like a nuclear bomb. Jonny was defenseless as his very being evaporated within the expanding blast wave. His memories, his personality all slowly succumbing to the explosion.
Eventually, the wave reached the inner walls of the skull, but its force could not be stopped. The eruption began bulging out Jonny’s facial structure, pushing at every possible angle it could. Starting at the bottom, his once slim jaw was widened outward, creating the manliest of lantern shapes. His nose bloated slightly before his brows were forced forwards. The wave’s reach extended even to Jonny’s hair, sending a natural blonde shade out through his roots and creating a layer of stubble to match.
Finally, the wave reached its climax and quickly began its retreat. The wave retracted into the brain before descending downwards, bringing all that remained of Jonny with it. It travelled past his esophagus, past his stomach, past his intestines before finally landing in his reproductive system. As its final act, the wave forced its way into Jonny’s sack, its size enough to permanently distend. It prepared for its final launch, expanding Jonny’s manhood to ensure an easy departure, and within seconds, expelled itself back into the spandex from which it came.
What remained of the man began to thaw after some time. Within a minute he was able to wiggle his fingers and toes, then eventually swing his arms and legs. Once he was able to move his head, he found a new life laid out before him. A new past and identity that had been left behind in the wave’s wake. His name was Jonathan, he worked as a financial advisor, he liked to play dirty and rough. And most importantly, he now hosted the elastagion.
Still in the spandex shorts, Jonathan paced around the room to grab some additional accessories. Name brand socks, matching shoes, and a couple of necklaces brought the ensemble together. Once assembled, he grabbed his phone and repositioned himself in front of the mirror. The picture was uploaded to his dating apps in seconds, notifications began to arrive soon after.
Jonathan’s new purpose was to infect; the wave had gifted him with the body to do so. He would be able to easily lure prey and help them discover the beauty of spandex. The thought of infecting more made Jonathan happy, and made his manhood grow.
Parker was expecting to be up for a big promotion for the tech company he worked at. However, when he was called into his boss' office, he learned the position he wanted went to someone else.
"We of course plan to keep you on board, but I think a change in departments is in order." His boss tells him.
"What do you mean sir?" Parker asks.
"Well, the security guards are looking for a new man to hire. I think you will be perfect for the job Pete." The older man says with a smile.
"Um, my name is Parker sir." The young man corrects.
"No offense. But I was hired for programming, and you know other IT related tasks. I'm not interested in being being guard."
The thought was comical. Parker was short and scrawny, always had been. Why the heck would his boss think a man like him would be fitting for a security guard?
"Maybe you should have more of an open mind to this position, Pete." The way his boss spoke this time seemed off. It was like his voice was deeper and had this almost soothing sound to it. Leaving the young man sitting their speechless.
Parker isn't sure what happens from there. His mind is a blur. He just feels this pleasant feeling starting to massage through his body. It felt nice, how good it felt. His scrawny frame triples in size. New muscles forcing the buttons of his dress shirt to pop off. Revealing his newly gained muscular frame.
The torn shirt quickly expands around his bulkier torso as it darkens into a simple black t-shirt. It wasn't long until Parker was just a distant forgotten memory.,Now where he sat was Pete, a man who knew he wasn't the brightest but made up for it with his physical akills he did have.
"So, I got the job yeah?" Pete asks.
"Yes, and if i might say, I think you're going to be a great edition to our security team."
Big & Juicy IFBB Pro Bodybuilder Kevin Orellana.
“Shoulders Sunday…”
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Lucky Find (II)
My head was lolled back, swimming in the sticky sweet high I was cooking off of Zack’s weed. He’d invited me over after practice to try out this “unbelievable” new pipe he found at Elise’s, that curio shop on the outskirts of town… a real high fantasy piece, this ancient, loooong wooden smoking pipe with tiny, intricately carved designs along the stem and bowl. Real Gandalf the Grey type shit. Either the weed or the pipe must have been working—my bones felt like gum, like putty that sunk into the curves of the couch with me… Zack’s new pipe really was ‘unbelievable,’ I couldn’t remember being this high before. I’ve smoked his expensive, super premium stash before, but this was something different. Barely two or three puffs in and I was drifting up the river.
In the middle of the thrumming buzz I was enjoying, I heard something weird. It sounded like… I don’t know, like you know when you rub your fingers across the surface of an inflated balloon? That tight, almost classically rubbery stretching sound? Well, it was that, but like it was buried underwater or deep under sheets or something.
I rolled my head over to Zack to see if he was hearing it too, and it was at that moment that I thought Zack had given me something way stronger than weed, because what I was seeing was impossible… though it definitely explained what I was hearing.
Zack was tugging his cock—big surprise, sure, the fucker was a near constant horn-dawg—but that wasn’t all. With each squeezing tug, Zack was… stretching his cock further and further out from his crotch. It maintained its veiny thickness and its beet-red, sleeved fire poker appearance, just extended several inches—working quickly towards several feet—longer than it normally way, drooling a ton of pre onto the fabric of his couch.
Between pleasured pants of breath, he looked up and caught me staring.
“That’s a hell of a pipe, huh?” He huffed with a grin.
“That,” I nodded at the pipe on the coffee table with the still-smoldering bud inside, “or that?” I stared back at his still-extending cock, throbbing as it bobbed lazily up and down in its stiffness.
“Huuuhuhuh, the pipe, dude,” he intoned deeply between chuckles and winced out another moan, “told you it’s extra special. C’mon, can’t you feel it? Try it.”
“Try what?” I swallowed, wondering if he was inviting me to suck him off. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d slobbed his knob, just shit, not under these… these circumstances.
He sucked his teeth disappointedly, “C’mon bro, I know you feel it, too. That oozing, pulling… Troy just give in man, it’s great!”
“Try..?” What was he talking about? I was reminded of the putty-like sensation in my bones. I’d chocked it up to just a really intense high, but… now?
I blinked. He blinked back. He gave me a small nod with a wide grin. Heart racing, I leaned back, locking my hand around my other wrist and widening my legs, and groaned in a much-needed stretch. Only now, I felt my entire self streeeeeetch along with me.
“Fuuuck me, Zack…” I groaned in an exhale, untensing from the stretch.
“Mmff, this is gonna rock your world, Troy.”
Humming in pleasure, I heard that familiar, buried elastic sound, I felt my arms extending further and further out from my shoulders and I saw my legs extending further underneath Zack’s cheap ass, stained coffee table. In the middle of the stretch, I looked over with a dumb grin at Zack, who had his own dumb cheeky grin plastered across his face, still sending his cock out further into the air between squeezing pumps of his shaft. With his other hand, he slapped his palm on my chest—hardened from years of training and familiar to Zack’s greedy squeezes—and he roughly grabbed a handful of my pec muscle. My muscular tit was like putty under his touch as he manhandled me. I love it when he feels me up to get himself off. Before removing his hand, he rolled my nipple between his thumb and index finger, eliciting a wincing groan from me, and tugged it, repeatedly, roughly, like he was milking me. My nip sprung out of his grip in a long, stiff, udder-like poker, which he teasingly flicked before taking one last muscular squeeze of my tit. I just stared back at him with panting breaths and ‘Mooooo’ed at him, prompting deep, stoned, guttural laughs from both of us.
I dropped my arms from the big stretch in an even bigger sigh, ogling at my new and improved length, ‘miring the strong, stretched out curves of my arms and legs with indulgent flexes. I stood up, marveling at my new height, continuing to flex out my stretched out limbs. They still maintained their lacrosse-fit musculature, just with Jack Skellington, goofy ass proportions. My udder-nipple had shrank back to its standard size, but I could still feel his phantom grip on my tit. I huffed some laughter over at Zack who was chuckling stupidly himself, drinking in the show I was putting on. He grinned with a bit lip at my groin as he nodded down at my groin. Shit, I was hard as a fucking rock in my gym shorts.
“You like all that, huh?” He teased, reaching his arm out from his still seated position in a slow, audible stretch, and tickled my drooling tip over my shorts.
“Dude, this is insane,” I mumbled, taking his hand in mine at the end of his stretched out arm, feeling our fingers stretch and wrap around each other. We huffed grinning pants of breath at each other, shuddering as I felt the results of his tickle send more blood to my dick.
“Hey, big guy,” Zack whispered, using his extended hands to gently squeeze my package, prompting me to flex my cock against his palm, grinning wickedly at him.
“I could milk you all day… But am I gonna have to stretch that out for you too, or…?”
“You want me to be bigger than you again that badly, huh?” I teased.
He waggled his hyper cock at me with a sly smirk, “You got a looooot of catching up to do.”
I used my other hand to slide my shorts down and let them drop to the floor. He intensified his tugging at his inhumanly long cock, sending it throbbing longer and longer, bobbing even closer to me as I began squeezing my own dick.
“Go on, stud,” he bit his lip and raised his eyebrow towards my dick. I grinned back and gave my dick a firm squeeeeze and pull, feeling it lengthen with orgasmic, semi-painful intensity.
“Ggguuuhuhuhuhh, duuuuude,” I groaned deeply, gasping at the sensation of my thick shaft surging longer, extending my length, getting bigger for my teammate.
I let go and waggled my 3 inches-longer cock at him and he groaned, unspooling his own dick even longer. “What the fuck, man…” I huffed in ecstatic disbelief.
I used one hand to continue matching his pace, coaxing my dick into cartoonish proportions like his. I used my other hand to wrap around both of our outstretched rods. My palms widened and my fingers wrapped around our shafts like five hungry pythons, sliding back and forth, running our turtleneck foreskins up and down our looney-toons-ass cocks. I coaxed my cock bigger, thicker, longer as I squeezed it against his. If he wanted to tug my tit into a milk udder then he was gonna know what it’s like to feel a cock outgrow his, sliding against his own. We couldn’t help but giggle like schoolboys between erotic gasps of air. Fuck, we could do anything.
Suddenly, I had a ridiculous idea. I untangled my fingers around our shafts and shook out my hand, feeling and hearing my fingers make fleshy slaps as they retreated back to their normal sizes. Then, extending my arms to allow my hands to reach the end of my inflated cock head, I slooooowly inserted ooone, guuhhhh…. then tttttwo (!!) fingers from opposite hands into my slit, which was belching insane amounts of pre, shuddering at the odd sensation, and gently, delicately, spreeeaaad my fingers apart.
I huffed erotically at the cool air kissing the fleshy tube inside my cock, feeling the warm, slimy walls within straining against my fingers. Looking down at Zack, I smirked between pants of breath as I aimed the open maw of my cock directly at his drooling, multiple feet-extended cock head, opening it towards him with a slack-jawed wink.
He let out a dumb cackle and grinned up at me, “That’s why I love you, bro. You’re a fucking lunatic.”
Without responding, I fed his cock head into my shaft. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the chance to do sounding on yourself with another man’s dick, but lemme tell you, 10/10. I slipped my fingers out of my cock with a sharp exhale in order to use both hands to streeeetch my foreskin down over both our shafts, hearing him moan at the warmth of my hood enveloping him. I let the natural suction of my cock feed more of him in, both of us staring into each others eyes in orgasmic wonder as my cock appeared to swallow his from within our shared, soft, stretchy, fleshy tube. As both of us slowly bucked forward and back, I could feel every inch of him within me, every curve, every vein, every heartbeat, every throb, just driving me fucking wild. Zack seemed to feel the same, rolling his head back and moaning as his dick was enveloped by the warm slimy sleeve of my own gaping cock.
Zack’s face looked to be in sheer ecstasy, the fucker was loving what I was doing to him. I couldn’t help but moan with him as his eyes rolled back into their sockets, exposing the whites of his eyes, with his mouth slung open in a perpetual, lazy smile. Rivers of drool were pouring out the sides of his mouth, while I again heard that familiar, elastic pulling sound, only to look down and discover that it wasn’t just the one part of Zack that was stretching now, but every part. His shoulders, hips, elbows, every joint, every fiber of him was reaching itself out farther, building to a maddening, all-encompassing climax.
I activated my pelvic floor and started intensifying my sucking assault on his dick, grunting and growling down at my unfurling, gooning fucktoy friend as I heard, actually heard my surging cock suck and gulp at Zack’s raging, ranging boner. As Zack groaned and gasped his way to a stampeding climax, his muscular neck audibly stretched higher and higher from his wide shoulders, his dripping tongue lolled out in a massively stretched-out curtain, his gasps quickened to an alarming pace, until—!!
ln a gooning ecstatic crescendo, Zack’s climax was marked more with a series guttural, almost choking “UNNG!!”s—rather than the noisy moans he’s whined out for the last several minutes—as his hog spat pints of hot, gooey Zack juice directly into my cock. Seems like I sent him to a whole new plane of sexual satisfaction. The feel of his hot batter filling up the inside of my own dick was enough to send me over the edge almost simultaneously. I gasped in a high groan as I felt my shaft quickly balloon, with another cock corking the coming geyser of cum trying to force its way out of me. If I hadn’t seemingly been made of rubber, it might have killed me!
I stepped back, whining at the truly unbelievable feeling of another cock sliding out of your own, and felt the damn break at the same time I heard it. Noisy, musky, heavy splats filled the room as I dumped what must have been a gallon of jizz, half on the couch and floor, half on Zack himself.
I stood there, he sat there, we both chugged at the air with heavy orgasmic pants as our bodies were slowly retracting and reforming back to their usual shape and size. He cracked a heaving smirk at me and I returned it.
I closed the distance between us and collapsed onto him, covering his jizzy, sweat-soaked chest and neck with kisses as I moved up to his face. Zack met my smooches with his own. I covered his mouth with my own and frenched him hungrily, sucking his lips into my mouth while I stretched my tongue into his. His own tongue fought and tangled with mine in his mouth as we both moaned into each others face. We could’ve been there for hours, locked in heat, smushing our still-deflating rods together, adoring each other completely.
We disconnected with a wet *pop,* Zack’s stretched out lips cheeks dripping with my slobber and slowly retracting back, and my tongue taking a little bit to spool back into my mouth. We dumbly laughed at the absurdity of it all and I rested my head on his chest.
“Never took you at the ‘kisses after sex’ type,” he teased, his speech somewhat affected by his suck-puffed lips.
“Yeah, well,” I sighed contentedly. “Things have changed.”
“Shit, you could say that again,” Zack agreed as he looked over at the wizard pipe (might as well have been an actual wizard’s pipe at this point). He huffed a laugh, “Crazy, we still have like half a bowl left. Wanna go again?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, man,” I responded without a moments hesitation. “I have so much I wanna try.”
“Me too. Matter of fact, I was thinking how cool it would be for me to show up to practice tomorrow in a Troy Suit.”
“A ‘Troy S—’?” I paused to consider then immediately understood where he was going with this and met his raised eyebrows with an open jawed grin. Fuck yeah, a Troy Suit. I wonder what I look like with the power of two stuffed into one?! This could be mind shatteringly hot.
“Spark it up.”