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|Dionysus stood with me in the kitchen of Brett's house. How can I describe this moment? How can I put it into words, standing there with a man so perfect that he was beyond perfection. A man whose very presence made you feel... everything good. All at once. As deeply as you could possibly ever feel anything. As if you were getting everything done to you by all the most beautiful men you ever fantasized about all at the same time and it all felt fucking great. Beyond great. There aren't sufficient words to describe it. Him. The feeling and appearance and presence and power and beauty of him.
And I felt as if I was literally growing as I stood there. Growing everywhere. A bigger, longer dick was stretching and swelling between my legs. My legs were growing, getting huge, the cables of my muscles expanding and shoving against each other. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, stayed on me as he spoke to William and as he scanned me, as he looked at me, I grew larger and larger with power and muscle and beauty. My chest was swelling outward, blossoming with brawn. My nipples were tiny dicks, pointed and fat and wet. My arms grew heavier and heavier as the muscle increased. And bigger still. And bigger. And bigger.
My ass tightened and rounded. My butthole was moist and sweet and deep and tight. My balls grew fat and heavy and drooped round and full in my nutsack behind my prick. My huge prick. My mammoth cock that still expanded. Longer still. And thicker. And heavier. Meatier. Fatter. Swelling with lushness and potency and power. My manliness growing deeper, broader, stronger, overwhelming.
I felt it happening. More and more of me. Of the man I was, the man I was becoming, more man than possible, so hard and huge and strong that I was growing beyond what was possible, beyond what could exist, beyond any idea or limitation of masculine into something more, something better, something bigger and bigger. Unstoppable. Impossible.
Bigger and bigger still. I felt my growing power, my increasing size and weight and strength, everywhere. The tips of my fingers stretching, my tendons flexing and lengthening. My shoulder blades growing farther apart, my whole upper back expanding, extending, filling in and broadening with muscle. The Christmas tree of muscles on my lower back, their power suddenly manifesting. The wide, thick flare of my latisimus dorsai lifting up my arms. The thick, fat muscle of my biceps and triceps bloating with more and more and more strength. The upper and lower decks of my pectorals pressing against each other, pushing in towards a deepening crevasse, pushing out towards my armpits, pushing up against my collar bone, inflating with hardness, swelling larger still, growing thick and fat and heavy. My nipples, swollen and round and hard and fat, tingled and throbbed with growth, with need, with passion, with fulfillment.
I could feel it all, everywhere, going on and on and on. Growth, strength, power, potency, passion. My dick was a motherfucking tree branch. It throbbed and pulsed with heat and need. It was a heavy, luscious burden between my still developing legs. I could feel it, feel every inch of it, as if the man, the inhumanly beautiful man, was sucking it, fucking it, caressing it.
I couldn't tell if these feelings were real because I could not look away from him. I could not. I don't think I could blink. I felt myself lost in an endless orgasm of growth and strength and potency and masculinity and pleasure and male bliss. Bliss so pure, so true, that nothing else could intrude.
He replaced the phone in the receiver and his gaze was still on my body. Then he seemed to realize something and he said to me, "Oops, sorry about that, Jackson," and something changed. Something altered. Something collapsed and I was looking at the Brett I had seen before. The Brett who still could make me hard just looking at him. The perfected, larger, more amazing Brett from the backyard. "Toned it down a little."
I swallowed and started breathing again. "Holy fucking Chri..."
He put his fingertip against my lips and shook his head slowly. "Uh uh, Jackson, let's not bring religion into this." Then he stood back and asked, "How are you feeling?"
I said, honestly, "I don't know." I managed, finally, to look down at myself. I seemed, to me, normal. Which I mean to say I looked as normal to me as I was now used to seeing me, a 6-foot 8-inch man with god's endowment and muscles packed on my fine form with tight and mighty beauty.
"I'm okay like this? You're not too overwhelmed by my natural charm?" His voice was amused and his tone was sarcastic. A god who didn't take himself seriously?
"I feel like I'm cumming."
He smiled. "You want me to turn that down?"
"Only if you're planning on something... oh, uh, man oh fucking man... something more than a one-way conversation."
"I knew I liked you," he said. And then the world tilted again, and settled, and I was standing in Brett's kitchen talking to Brett. The Brett I walked in with, plus a little more. At least, he looked like that Brett if Brett had been working out all summer long and downing some serious roids.
He was buff and beautiful, taller as well with broader shoulders and a more ample dick. And there was something much... more about him. You could feel him with you. It was what I'd felt with William when we first met, but even stronger than that. A palpable sense of comfort and power, of pure masculine strength and something even deeper than that.
He was naked, and I was naked, and the sense of continuous licking and kissing and sucking was gone from my flesh, although the memory of it lingered. He held out his hand and said, "Time for proper introductions, since I've blown my cover... among other things." He arched his slender brow and looked at my ample package. "Glad to meet you Jackson. I'm Dionysus. But my friends -- and that includes you -- call me D."
I reached for his hand and he grasped mine, then pulled me easily into an embrace and pressed his warm flesh to mine. His body was tingling like a prick everywhere we joined, and when he pulled my lips to his and I found his tongue wrestling with mine, I felt that tingle everywhere. He felt like everything good. I wanted to stay in that embrace forever.
My mind was twirling like a top. This was a god? Shouldn't he be all... well... godlike? Shouldn't he be commanding me to kneel or making me peel him grapes or something? Wasn't I just a mere mortal and unworthy of his friendship and consideration?
"Who's been filling your mind with that shit?" His question caught me off guard. I said, "What?" and he said, "Why the hell would I be asking you to kneel or peel me a grape -- although that's pretty fucking funny now that I think on it." He folded his arms across his more mammoth chest and tilted his head. His dark eyes, still as deep as a well and filled with something so good you ached to dive into them and live there, twinkled.
"But... you're a god."
He shrugged. "Eh. So I'm a god. So I can do anything. Have you considered that?"
"I sort of assumed..."
He shook his head. "No, think about this. So if you can do anything, why would you need anyone to do anything for you? If I wanted a peeled grape, I'd create a plate of them. A truckload. A fucking mountain. I look at it this way; You're a person. I'm a person. I just happen to have a few more talents than you, that's all." He leaned his hip against the counter. I watched his dark skin, it never even wrinkled. "Oh, sure, I used to lord myself around, command people to do this, scrape that, bow down and kiss my tootsies. But that gets boring. People are cool! I mean, do you ever fucking talk to them?"
"And isn't that cool?"
"It's cool! You're cool! You know that? You're awesome, Jackson. Smart, funny, one hell of a fuck. Good to look at, nice to talk with. I really liked us on that bench in the locker room. The tease and play, you acting so nice to me, helping me feel comfortable about wanting to suck your dick and all. I mean, you were really sweet."
"Are you fucking with me?"
He smiled slightly. "Only a little." He threw his arm over my shoulder and we went outside. "You have to forgive me. I'm sure Lyai..." He snapped his fingers. "I mean William told you about me, right?"
"All I remember is great ass and fucking funny."
He laughed. It was a golden, pure sound. "And I think that sums me up pretty well." He looked across the pool and I followed his gaze and saw William, Scott and Larry lounging on the lawn. Larry, bless him, was bigger still. Would he ever stop growing? He was a mountain of beautiful brawn, all tanned and fit and bulging with promise. His face, however, looked as perplexed as I imagine mine did. But William was already walking towards us and Scott was waving his thick and powerful arm in our direction. Me and the god.
William and D embraced. They kissed. They laughed. Then William looked at me and sort of sheepishly grimaced. "Sorry," he said.
"Why didn't you tell me? What was all that Cipher shit about?"
He looked at D for help and the god said, "It's me who should apologize here, Jackson. I told William to keep his pretty mouth shut."
"And the Cipher shit wasn't exactly shit, Jackson. There are Ciphers. He just didn't happen to be one." He looked at Brett, er, D and laughed slightly. "You're sure toned down a lot."
D nodded over to me and said, "He may look ready but he was having a little bit of trouble dealing. I'm pretty amazing, in case you've forgotten." I felt a surge of what I had felt before, as if someone had turned on a light in a dark room, and my body was cumming again. Then it was doused and D was looking at me. "See? I tested the waters earlier and he performed magnificently -- better than you even!" William pouted and D kissed him. "I'm just yanking your chain, ya big fucker." He looked at me appraisingly. His gaze was like being bathed in pure joy. "I wouldn't want to wear him out before we've even gotten started." He leaned over and gave me the kiss of my life. He wasn't the god of pleasure for nothing.
He broke the liplock and I was going to ask what he meant by that when Larry stood up and shouted, "So, um, is anyone going to tell me how the fuck I'm licking Scotty's boner one minute and sitting out here next to this pool watching the school football jock and my best friend make out the next or what?"
D laughed and leaned over to William. "That's gotta be Larry."
"None other," he answered.
"Fucking amazing little bod that boy's got."
"He always did favor the big ones," the god said, but his lips were twisted into a smile. Then he was striding over to where my friend stood as William and I followed.
"You were right," I told William.
I let my gaze point the way toward the departing god's beautiful butt. "Nice ass."
"Thanks," D said over his shoulder, then we were all gathered on the back lawn. I'm pretty sure a more amazing collection of male brawn in one place would be hard to imagine. I was now at full strength, exhibiting my full height and length, so to speak, and maybe all that growth I had been feeling before wasn't just a feeling. I was bigger, too. But Larry still had me beat.
The guy was a monster. Muscles so amazing and broad and fat that he was almost bursting through his skin. But that looked better, too. Elastic, alive, shining with health. The guy looked fucking amazing. No longer the swimmer build at all, he'd become a full-fledged muscle machine. Thick veins branched along every fat muscle belly. His biceps were like melons. His legs were tree trunks. A furry forest coated all that powerful growth and his skin looked like copper, all darkly tanned.
His face, however, still held on to the beauty of his youth. It was like looking at some glossy magazine model's head stuck on some brute bodybuilder's muscular body. "Hey, Brett," he said, his voice a husky bass, "you look amazing. I guess Jackson told you what was up, huh? So, when do I get a round with that fine, tight butt of yours?"
"No way, Jackson, you had your turn! I want to see what this Cipher bullshit is all about."
He bent his arms up and exhibited exactly how huge he could get. It was amazing, and my dick started to stretch and bulge as his bicep swelled and split. "So, Brett, Mr. Football Captain, how'd you like to tackle me?"
Then he lowered his hand and started to stroke his mammoth prick. He made himself instantly hard and his balls dropped and started to swell with cream. His dick was as massive as the rest of him, a thickly veined monster that looked untamable. "I got a little something you might find..."
"Larry," said Brett, with a smile on his lips, "I'm very happy to meet you. My name is Dionysus."
Larry's hand stopped in mid-stroke. A bubble of clear honey had gathered at the tip and slowly swelled and dripped to the lawn. He looked at me and I nodded. He looked at William who shrugged. Then he looked at Scott, and Coach Landry started laughing his ass off. "Oh, hell," he said, and he was limp so fast you'd think he'd dipped it in ice water.
"Oh, dear," said D, "that simply won't do." And I felt that rush of passion and ecstasy again.
It rushed into my blood and inflated my dick. My balls churned and drooped. I broke out in a sweat and I could smell sex pouring off me like perfume. Larry's boner returned so quickly it was like someone inflated it. It was hard and red and shiny, and D reached down and slowly set his grip around it.
I watched it swell larger and larger under his touch, the head blooming like a ripening fruit. The shaft extended out from Larry's body and swelled in D's grip. If he started out with a foot long fatty, in moments it was half again as long as that. Eighteen inches. Nineteen. The helmet swelled, its ridged lip flaring wider and higher. Twenty-one inches. Twenty-four! Two feet of sweet, hot, hard, potent prick! The piss-slit was stretching, opening, big enough to stick a finger in. It grew wider, still. Twenty-six inches! The head was the size of a grapefruit!
D bent his lips to Larry's and kissed him gently, slowly, passionately. Then Larry was blasting a non-stop load of cum from his mammoth hard-on like he was some cream fountain. He wasn't shooting shots, he was literally streaming his hot jizz out in one long orgasm. I could hear it. I could hear him cumming, hear his load pumping out of that impossible prick. He came and came and came.
I wasn't cumming, but I felt like I was. It was like I was feeling what Larry was doing, like my fat dick was also shooting like a hose. William and Scott looked similarly overcome, and then D released his touch from Larry's huge cock and broke off the kiss and we all settled back down again, panting and sweating. Larry's monster returned to its previous state of ample but not impossible stature and he fell back on his ass, his mouth agape. "Fuck me," he whispered.
"Oh," answered D, "I intend to."
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