PLAYING WITH FanTCdude'S TOYS - part 3
Big Budd’s wet dream – and the AMERICAN DREAM
PLAYING WITH FanTCdude’s TOYS - part 3 by absman420
It was a dream that rocked him awake - a dream of strutting into Benny’s Hackin’ Shack wearing only those miniscule posing trunks like all the Littleman’s guys wore - a dream of their reactions when they saw his insanely large cock, barely held by the scant material, half-hard from pride. The gasps of awe and envy as he slowly strutted to his normal stool, as his package swayed back and forth before him. There was Ed Jiggers and old Travis Murphy, slack-jawed and abnormally tongue-tied at his lack of inhibition, at his confident new attitude. There was Sheriff Coltraine, still in his uniform from the day-shift, Johnny Silvio, his fucked-up supervisor on the factory line - hell, ALL his high school rivals, all the guys who’d ever laughed at him.
“Evenin’, everybody,” he said, confident and masculine as he sat on his stool, picked up his beer, and spread his legs wide for them to see. “I can’t help but notice ya’ll are starin’ at my cock. I reckon you boys ain’t never seen one this big before.” He reached down and touched it. “And this ain’t even hard.” He smiled. “You should see it hard.”
And with that, he allowed his erection to happen. It’s what his cock wanted, after all - it’s what his cock ALWAYS wanted. Like the others, he just watched it as it fought the lining of his briefs, pushing it’s way past the band near his hip bone. He watched with a growing love as it freed itself from the confines of the material, extending up over his abs, thickening as it rose. Even the most endowed man would feel intimidated by it - it dwarfed the competition.
Hearing their “Holy shits!” and “God damns!” reinforced his confidence - his love of his new-found freakiness. At full-mast, the fist-sized head pressing into the bottom of his muscular pecs, he grabbed the base of it with both hands, waggled the massive thing back and forth and said, his voice surprisingly sexy, “Now, who’s first?”
When they started fighting for the honor of servicing him, THAT pushed him over the edge.
THAT caused the orgasm that rocked him awake, pulling him out of his dream world - pulling him away from a scene that he never thought he’d like to make real. Funny how dreams speak to truth.
Big Budd woke in the hotel bed he shared with his brother, breathing heavily, cumming in the tightie-whities he’d fallen asleep in. He laid there for a minute, listening carefully to make sure he hadn’t woken his brother with his wet dream - which, ironically, reminded him of being a teenager, when he and his brother shared a room and such a dilemma was common - then quietly got out of bed to clean up.
He didn’t turn the lamp on, but could see from the ambient light of the city outside, this hazy monochromatic feeling that made objects visible, but not color. In this dimness, as he stood up off the mattress, Big Budd saw himself in the mirror above the dresser.
There wasn’t light enough to clearly see, but it looked like the man in the reflection wasn’t him - the man who looked back at him from across the room was more muscular than he was, easily twenty-five pounds heavier. The man in the mirror didn’t look like he’d swallowed a basketball - he had a flat, strong stomach - he lacked love-handles - he had a “V”-shape.
And the reflection’s dick, still half-hard in his underwear, was clearly bigger than Big Budd’s - the reflection’s dick reached all the way over to his hipbone.
No! thought Big Budd. It’s gotta be a dream still!
Watching himself in the mirror, he pulled down his underwear, suddenly unconcerned about his snoozing sibling, his hopes confirmed - yes, his cock was bigger! No longer the hot dog-sized erection he was used to, he was now bigger than bun-length - for the first time in his life, he could wrap his whole hand around it.
There, in the dim moonlight filtering into their hotel room, Big Budd started masturbating to this hazy reflection. He didn’t turn on the lights for fear seeing the truth - that he was still the same fat, embarrassingly hung loser he always was. No, he liked the guy in the mirror a lot more. As a matter of fact, so caught up in his fantasy, he didn’t stop to realize he had JUST cum - it had woken him up - no, he was too horny to care.
Perhaps he moaned too loudly, or maybe just the sound of his hand slapping his pud woke Little Budd. Whatever. Just as Big Budd was about to shoot a crippling load at the fuzzy muscleman in the mirror, the light from his brother’s side of the bed came on, and he COULD see his reflection clearly.
He could see that it had all been true - he was more muscular. His gut was gone. He WAS well-hung.
And when he saw the improvements in himself in the clear, white light, Big Budd couldn’t help but orgasm, shooting thick streams of cum across the room, screaming from the intensity.
It just kept getting better and better.
As he caught his breath, he heard that same rhythmic, slapping sound coming from his brother’s side of the bed. But instead of being embarrassed, he just smiled and turned to face the boy.
Little Budd was jerking off, no doubt turned-on by Big Budd’s performance, which Big Budd found oddly flattering. His brother had tossed back the sheets, exposing his nudity - and the fact that he’d been sleeping without underwear - pounding on his own erection as he watched Big Budd flex.
“Well, look at you,” Little Budd said, panting, pounding away.
Instead of shame, Big Budd felt pride. He said, “No shit. Look at my stomach!” and flexed it for his brother, the muscular cuts evident for the first time in his life.
As he posed, he realized that Little Budd had gone through the same changes he had. His younger brother was significantly more muscular, even bigger than Big Budd, and his erect cock reached above his navel.
And when Little Budd shot, the force of his cum splattered the headboard next to his ear. He moaned and arched his back, lifting his hips up off the mattress, flexing his newly-found muscle.
As soon as they wiped up - using the last of the clean towels in the bathroom - they spent time flexing for each other, examining themselves in the mirrors. Big Budd wasn’t surprised at his brother’s comfort level, but was impressed with his own lack of inhibition. He was pleased with his nudity - with a body like he now had, why wouldn’t he be?
They were nowhere near the size of Dane, but they looked like they were addicted to the gym the same way - they were in better shape than anybody either of them had ever met in Kansas, that’s for sure. There were some strong men at the factory where Big Budd worked, but none of them were built like this! None of them looked like those fitness magazine models like his brother now did.
None of them were as hot as the Budd Brothers!
Oddly, he didn’t find anything queer about two brothers flexing for each other, comparing their new bodies, measuring the growth in their dicks, or masturbating together. As a matter of fact, he found it undeniably masculine. He thought of when Officer Jacobs knelt before him and took his cock in his mouth - and conversely, when he knelt before the Officer and did the same thing - as a natural extension of their undeniable masculine need, not some perverted act or aberration. (If Big Budd even knew that word.)
No, what he was feeling was so… so MANLY, that he knew the only people who could understand its intensity were the other guys going through it. Now, masturbating with his brother, fighting for mirror space, Big Budd found himself open to that feeling, and loving it!
His brother was laughing at him. “You’re so clumsy with that thing,” he said. “I reckon you ain’t used to something that big.”
Boldly, Big Budd said, “I reckon I ain’t never had to use my whole hand before!”
“Here,” Little Budd said. “Let me show you.”
He reached over and took Big Budd’s cock in his confident grip, running his hand up and down the shaft a few times. Big Budd’s breath hitched. “See?” said Little Budd. “All in the grip.”
Little Budd changed his position, getting behind his big brother so he was reaching around, a more comfortable angle for himself. He pumped Big Budd’s big new dick. “See how I’m holding it?” he asked. “How’s THAT feel?”
“Oh my Lord!” moaned Big Budd, leaning his head back onto his brother’s shoulder. “That’s amazing!”
And Little Budd reached around with his other hand, laying it on Big Budd’s flat, firm stomach, feeling the new grooves etched into the muscle - naturally, Big Budd flexed. And then his brother seemed to pull him in, like they were wrestling, or hugging from behind, and their bodies came into contact - specifically, Little Budd’s hard-on pressed into the groove of Big Budd’s ass. But instead of being freaked, Big Budd kind of liked it. Why should he be the only one enjoying himself when his brother was doing all the work?
Big Budd found himself opening up, spreading his ass to accommodate his little brother’s growing erection. “Yeah,” whispered Little Budd. “How’s THAT feel?”
When they orgasmed this time - at almost the exact same moment - when Big Budd felt his brother’s cum hit his ass crack and lower back, he almost wished his brother was INSIDE him. He thought it would feel better if his brother was inside him - so much more masculine.
Except he didn’t think he could get Little Budd’s big cock up there.
He was surprised to discover himself wishing he could.
THAT led to his orgasm. With his brother’s deft handling, Big Budd shot an almost crippling load while flexing a double bis in the mirror. Look at what a fucking man he was becoming!
“I reckon I’m getting hairier,” Little Budd said as he wiped his cum off his brother’s lower back. “I reckon you are, too. I could feel it on your stomach.”
It was true. While neither of the Budd Brothers had much bodyhair to begin with, as Big Budd examined his torso, he could see the sprouts of tiny dark hairs dotting the skin, not the blunt tips like growth after shaving, but the thin points of new life.
So masculine! EVERYTHING was turning him on.
It was difficult to get anymore sleep that night, though they tried. They wrestled each other like they had when they were boys - before they learned such behavior was “wrong” - innocent as pups. They fell into bed wrapped in each other’s arms. And when Little Budd rested his head on Big Budd’s pec, using it as a pillow, Big Budd felt such an overwhelming love for his brother that he pulled his body even closer, tying their arms and legs into a knot of flesh that even a champion wrestler would have difficulty undoing.
He’d never cuddled with his wife this way.
But he’d never felt that same sense of intimacy with her - not like this. This was incredible!
As he was falling asleep, he decided he’d definitely do the third shot - but he’d stop after that. He didn’t want to be too much of a freak.
The next morning, the entire Littleman’s group met in the same conference room as they had the night before - except the casual observer wouldn’t realize it was the same group of men. It even took Big Budd a few minutes to recognize everyone, or maybe he just enjoyed looking - either way, they were all as different now as he was, himself.
The muscular improvements that he and his brother had experienced were reflected across the board. ALL of the men had put on quality amounts - Lidster, the football coach, was freakin’ huge! - but to varying degrees. Though none of them would be mistaken for anything less than what they were now, gym-rats, muscle-heads.
As instructed, all of them wore their Littleman’s sheer, spandex hot-shorts - again, none of them displayed the inhibition that had plagued them last night, Big Budd included. Quite the opposite, they all seemed eager to show the improvements in their packages, the growth of their cocks, the swelling of their balls. They adjusted themselves in the Littleman’s shorts the way Dane had shown them, everything up front, and paraded their stuff for the others to see.
Dane started the meeting officially with them standing up one at a time to show off their growth, both muscularly and sexually. Most of the guys, Big Budd included, got an erection while flexing for the others, but nobody complained - mostly, they cheered.
The Coach had put on the most size, though Officer Jacobs gave him a run for his money. Jacobs was a better poser, and enjoyed waving his ass around for them to see. His cocky attitude was his best feature. Little Budd did a dance when it was his turn, looking for the world like one of those strippers at a bachelorette party. Unquestionably, his brother had gained the most self-confidence.
But Big Budd had made gains, too. His was voted “Most Improved Cock” by the other guys. He laughed, but it was false-modesty - it was just the last vestiges of his embarrassment. As they studied his cock, as it got hard, Big Budd felt more and more at ease - more and more masculine as they cheered. As he stretched the thin material to the point of becoming see-thru, Big Budd followed an impulse for the first time in his life, pulling his cock out of his shorts and masturbating for them, showing them his new size.
They cheered him on, Little Budd leading the cause. Many of the guys started masturbating themselves, Little Budd included. The Old Man - Big Budd had forgotten his name, lost in the moment - the gray-haired retiree whose body had been so frail last night that none of them had understood why a man with a walker had been accepted into the group - now a strapping, mature bodybuilder with heavy pecs and no discernable limp - when the Old Man stepped up and said, “That’s a nice cock, boy,” Big Budd waggled it at him and said, “I reckon you’re not doin’ too bad yourself.”
And when the Old Man knelt down before him and took Big Budd’s big new cock in his mouth, Big Budd didn’t even TRY to stop him. As a matter of fact, he said, “Oh yeah, Old Man. Suck that cock.” And his brutish language kind of turned him on.
“It always turns into an orgy,” Dane said, shaking his head, striking the podium with his open hand to get their attention. “Guys! GUYS!”
They looked at him, mid-stroke or mid-poke, this incredibly beautiful, masculine, hairy bodybuilder who was himself erect and ready, a small bit of pre-cum dotting the material of his shorts, and he said, “We got a lot to do today, and I don’t want THIS turning into some all-day event, so… separate.” He made a motion with his hands, pulling them apart. “Let’s all just shoot a load and get it over with, then we can eat and get our asses to the gym.” Then, in a quieter tone, he added, “And the quicker we get it done, the quicker we can have our next dose.”
THAT motivated them - Big Budd included. He reluctantly pulled the Old Man off his cock and said, “I reckon we’ll make time for this later.”
The Old Man looked up at him, smiled and said, “My teeth are growing back in, boy. Won’t quite so smooth later.”
So they sat there on the edge of their seats as Dane showed them more new techniques - not that it took any amount of time for them to cum. It hardly ever did, now. That orgasmic bliss would finally wash over them, only to make them ready for more - WANT more. Even Big Budd was having difficulty remembering the inhibitions of Kansas.
The was a small buffet set up in the back of the conference room, just like the day before, and they wolfed down breakfast, joking and teasing each other as they filled their plates. There were protein shakes in a cooler at the end of the table, also bearing the Littleman’s brand - Dane explained that they were testing these drinks in a few select markets. Apparently, they contained less than one-percent of the formula, but the unusually high protein content was engineered to be absorbed by starving muscles better.
They tasted great.
Dane trooped them through the hotel lobby to a mini-bus waiting outside. Big Budd liked walking in public wearing the skimpy Littleman’s gear, the way people stared at them, gawked at them. It was almost like his dream. (Yeah, reckon it’s easy to enjoy yourself in San Francisco, he thought. What about when you get home to Kansas?)
The guy driving the bus was clearly going through the program himself. Though not quite as big as Dane, there was no mistaking that attitude - that abnormal cock. He wore dark blue spandex shorts and a matching sleeveless cotton/spandex shirt, exposing his freakish arms to the world, the heavy tats on his forearms, a driver’s cap cocked on the back of his head. His scruffy goatee was longer than the hair on his head - his jaw was absurdly wide.
He grunted at the guys he thought were hot as they passed, and Big Budd was pleased to get the biggest response from the man - it was almost a bark. When they made eye-contact, the driver showed his teeth like a dog.
Boldly, Big Budd winked then took a seat next to his little brother, who wasn’t all that little anymore - frankly, he was almost bigger than Big Budd. Certainly hairier. But Big Budd was determined to have the bigger cock, ultimately.
Even if it meant doing more than the third dose.
The gym was in Sausalito - a place called American Dream Muscle - so they had to cross the bridge. Big Budd was actually glad to be outside the hotel - here they were in San Francisco for the first time in their lives, and the Budd Brothers wanted to see the sights. And in San Francisco that meant two things: the Golden Gate and the queers. (Well, three things if you count the trolley, but Big Budd just wanted to SEE that, not ride it - same as with the queers.)
The gym sat in the middle of a corporate park, one indistinguishable brick building after another to Big Budd. As the driver parked the bus in the back corner of the lot, Dane got on the overhead mic and instructed them to take the next dose of the Littleman’s formula before they went in, the third vial of their five. “There’s nothin’ like the feeling of the Littleman’s buzz while you’re working out,” he said - and the bus driver emphatically added, “No shit!” behind him, nodding and chortling.
They all had their transdermal guns in their gym bags except one guy, Big Budd couldn’t remember his name but knew he was a bartender at some sports bar back in Maryland - he was one of those jock/ fratboy-types that Big Budd had always harbored resentment toward. He’d clearly been in amazing shape not long ago, a “player,” juggling girlfriends as easily as lining-up shooters. But the effects of his lifestyle were taking their toll, leaving him soft and mildly pudgy - well, not as much now. Overnight, like all of them, he’d gained some of it back.
And as the pretty-boy bartender sat there whining about not remembering to bring his dose or his gun, Big Budd felt kind of sorry for him. Imagine not being able to do another hit of this stuff! (To think, there was a time when Big Budd had himself considered stopping!) So when Big Budd magnanimously offered the bartender one of HIS amps - “Fer the time bein’,” Big Budd said. “I reckon you can give me one o’ yourn when we get on back to the hotel.” - the guys cheered him.
Even Dane said, “Now, that’s a lot nicer than I would’ve been. I would’ve made you go without and do a double dose later. But this…” He gestured to Big Budd. “…this is way beyond nice. I’ll leave it up to you: his dose now, or a double dose later.”
The bartender thought about it, then smiled and patted Big Budd on the shoulder. “You’re a pal,” he said, “but I’ll think I’ll do the double dose later. Look, I’m already gettin’ hard thinkin’ about it.” The bartender had the biggest cock of them all to begin with - he kept it shaved, which Big Budd thought odd, but maybe the women liked it that way - and half-hard in his spandex, only Dane rivaled him for supremacy. Maybe the bus driver, too.
Dane pointed at Big Budd. “That was real nice,” he said. “Don’t think it went unnoticed.” He spoke to the group. “These mid-west boys are always so polite, aren’t they?” The guys chuckled. Even Little Budd flushed. “All right you guys,” Dane said, “let’s get this done.”
And so, they loaded their guns, popping the vials into place in the back of the handle, and pulled down their spandex. His balls were getting meatier - as Big Budd fondled himself while separating, he weighed his balls in his hand, easily the size of goose-eggs, and lined up the shot.
“Pull!” Little Budd hollered, like they were shooting skeet, and the guys all laughed.
Like it was a cue, they all shot simultaneously, pulling the triggers in a near unison “snap!” Big Budd could feel it empty into his balls, swelling them with even MORE fluid.
He couldn’t wait to feel the buzz. To grow. To be a freak.
They trooped off the bus, walking in pairs across the parking lot, muscular hulks adjusting themselves, wearing only their spandex shorts and foot gear, a few with gym bags - most with erections. On the door of the gym, there was a hand-written sign that said, “Closed for private party. Open to public at 12:30pm. Thanks! Ivan.”
Dane rang the security buzzer and announced, “Littleman’s” into the intercom. A deep voice responded, “Be right there” and the thing went dead.
Dane said to the group, “You got ’til noon here. That’s almost three hours, so you should have plenty of time for a workout and… whatever.” Almost as quickly, he added, “They have a nice sauna here, a steam room and a pool, too. Take advantage of everything.”
“Not just every-ONE,” added Little Budd, getting his customary laugh. Even Dane barked a laugh, mock-punching Little Budd in the shoulder.
The man who opened the door from inside was bigger than anyone Big Budd had ever seen in his life, including Dane, the bus driver, or even the guys on the Littleman’s video. Dressed only in the company posing trunks which didn’t even cover his entire package - the root of his freakish cock remained exposed for them to see - Big Budd noticed this giant of a bodybuilder was completely smooth from head to toe.
He didn’t realize how odd he found that to be until he saw one of the Littleman guys WITHOUT body hair. Big Budd had only seen shaved bodybuilders in the magazines and the media, but since becoming involved in the Project, he’d come more and more to see that huge muscle was only accented by body hair - and WAY more masculine! Seeing this giant beast of a man with smooth skin, pale from lack of sun, was almost disconcerting.
The hairless guy opened the door from the inside and welcomed them, saying - in a heavy accent that Big Budd recognized as Russian - “Welcome, my friends! Welcome to my American Dream!” He held his massive arms open, showing his incredible torso. “My name is called Ivan Pretulski and I come to here from former Soviet Union to be part of this Group Littleman’s.” He placed his big hand on his big pec, indicating himself with his sausage finger. “I am from - how you say? - early version of formula. As you see, robbing me it has of the chest fur and good hair down on man parts.” He grabbed his own thick package to emphasize, and then shrugged. “But I am still - how you say here? - all man!”
“You look great,” said Dane, clapping the big Russian on the shoulder. It was clear that Dane was telling the truth - his cock was already hardening in his spandex shorts.
It looked like a look passed between them - or at least, it did to Big Budd. But his buzz was already hitting him so hard that he might’ve been reading all kinds of intentions into it. As they filed past Ivan on the way into the gym, the hyper-muscled Russian greeted each of them individually, shaking their hand or slapping their shoulder. Big Budd was touched by the man’s sincerity, his masculine confidence, even if he did lack body hair.
The gym wasn’t just gigantic, it was so well-equipped that it might be called ultra-modern to someone with as little experience as Big Budd. But he wasn’t the only one who was impressed. “This is fuckin’ AMAZING!” yelled Officer Jacobs, listening to his own voice echo through the open space.
“Very few gyms you will find that are this ultra-modern, yes?” Ivan came to the front of the group - the gym was clearly his pride and joy - his whole attitude reflected it. “And for three hours next, it is yours! Enjoy my hospitality!”
And as his buzz really hit him hard, Big Budd, the other seven “newbies,” Dane, the bus driver, and Ivan himself descended on the weights.
It wasn’t long before they were descending on each other.