Quent’s story — Chapter 3
After buying a drug from a website focussing primarily on masturbation, Quent loses himself to an increasingly psychotic addiction… with MORE side effects.
Once Quent crossed the college front doors, it was already past noon. Students and teachers alike walked out to eat something at the surrounding fast-food restaurants. Despite having eaten a greasy sandwich, Quent felt his stomach growl in hunger, like the empty calories of his copious breakfast had done nothing to satiate him. The teen grimaced at the annoying noise coming from his middle, judging he was filling his clothes already enough with no need to overeat.
Quent fished out his phone from his snug jeans pocket and scrolled through his list of college buddies. Ever since he’s started going on poppers, very little of his usual friends kept hanging out with him or texting him. Probably he shouldn’t have ignored them for over a month before recontacting them. But that didn’t matter.
Quent looked through his most recent messages. Apart from his brother and his stoner buddy, the one who invited him to the party on the previous night, the other conversations were at least a few weeks old. Suddenly, Quent was surprised to receive a text from a classmate of his, one with whom he had completed a paper during the previous semester. In fact, a classmate whom he had encouraged to write that paper.
‘U weren’t in class again this morning. U alright, Q?’
The student smiled dumbly, then proceeded to type back something, somehow finding it awkward, the digital keyboard feeling smaller than he remembered. His fingers seemed more likely to press two keys rather than one. Quent blamed it on the lack of sleep.
‘Yea got a hard mornin bro.’
He grinned at the pun.
‘Hope i didnt miss 2 much.’ ‘Just got here btw.’
‘I can pass u my notes later if u want.’ ‘U have a class this PM?’
Suddenly, just like reality hit him like a car driving full force into a brick wall, Quent realized he didn’t have any class for the rest of the day, actually. The man blushed severely, feeling very dumb at the moment for getting to college and realizing he missed his only class of the day.
*‘No. Thought I’d make it on time.’ ‘Transport sucks.’ ‘Hard.’
‘We can still hang out if u want. What u say?’*
Quent stared at his phone for a moment. His classmate’s concern was heartwarming. The lingering scent of poppers tickled his nose. A flush of heat directed itself from his chest to his groin which was already filling with blood… again. The lust hormones slowly filled Quent anew as his thoughts shifted from spending an afternoon with his classmate to an afternoon where he could masturbate with his online buddies, watching porn and edging for hours.
Right there, in the college lobby, Quent popped a tent in his ready-to-burst jeans, unfazed by the people walking by. Slowed down by the invisible cloud of poppers, the drugged man stood with his mouth agape, conflicted between the two choices offered to him. Suddenly, he was accidentally shoved out of the way by another student who didn’t watch where he was going. Quent was brought out of his thoughts. He looked down at the apologizing man dumbly. Just as the guy was about to pursue his walk, something kept him from walking away from Quent.
“Huh? Dude, what’s that smell?” The student asked, almost hypnotized by the strong scent coming from the bator.
Upon hearing the word smell, Quent’s boner twitched. A bead of precum oozed out of his cock, staining the jeans yet with another dark spot. Clouded with lust, Quent took all that was left of his will not to haul out his fat penis and to masturbate in the open. Without answering the question, the horny student left the curious man whose pants were already beginning to tent from inhaling the 3G’s scent oozing from Quent.
The masturbator entered the nearest men’s bathroom, filled with a few occupants, and went for the closest stall. It just couldn’t wait. The strain was too constricting, too unbearable. Despite all the effort, the horny lad pulled the jeans down as best as he could with the boxers. Finally, the monster locked inside his pants was free. Quent petrified for a moment. Even though he’s come twice since he woke up, one time barely an hour ago at the coffee shop, multiple strings of pre-cum stuck between his boxers and his penis. A big dollop of syrupy pre-ejaculate dropped from the swollen cock head into the toilet bowl. What struck Quent the most was obviously the sheer size of his dong. Previously almost inexistent veins crisscrossed along the great length of the demanding meat.
The instant he wrapped a hand around it, Quent was overcome with such bliss that he almost did not notice the unusual size of the member. Whereas it used to be humble, starting to use the 3Gs poppers seemed to have actually increased its size, secondary effects minimally affecting other areas of his body. On the previous night, he did go to sleep with an eight inches erection and a respectable girth. However, this meat was at least eleven inches long. Moreover, with a large hand wrapped around the big penis, Quent curiously brought his second hand on top of his first one, noticing that the bloated hooded glans was still sticking further out.
“Big… fat… penis…” Quent muttered in obsessed admiration, jacking it up and down with both of his hands, completely forgetting about the other bathroom occupants.
From the moment his hands started to play with his large, veiny bate-stick, Quent blissfully moaned. The real world around him collapsed into nothingness, only leaving the heavenly pleasure of caressing his manhood, like a conditioned worshipper bowing to his God’s will. Quent let his shoulders take hold against the locked stall door behind him, giving him the proper angle to thrust his pelvis up. To showcase his throbbing boner in all its marvelous glory.
His rational thoughts were no more. All he cared for, all he longed for, was to please his needy manhood. To masturbate and edge for hours. To experience the most blissful ejaculations in the world before starting all over again. Such a big penis brought him so much joy, so much happiness, so much fulfillment than he ever felt before since he started taking poppers. Would the pleasure increase even more if his penis kept growing even bigger?
Like an avid believer, Quent prayed. He wished for his fat boner to keep growing. Bigger. Fatter. Longer. More sensitive. He wanted his private parts to grow over the norm. Beyond what was humanly possible. To grow big enough to become an entity of its own, yet it would still be a part of him. This penis was his God, his all, his everything, but above anything it was his. He didn’t care, not that he noticed yet, what other side effects these poppers would do. Or already did to him.
Quent did not know for how long he kept going on his drooling boner. He completely forgot about his classmate. He did not even consider the ringing phone in his pocket. Screw them. Screw the world. All that mattered was his penis. To please it. To watch it. To feel it GROW in his hands.
The toilet seat before Quent was covered in his rank pre-ejaculate. The 3Gs’ musk heaved in the bathroom. The masturbator didn’t hear the moans coming from the other occupants, nor their rushed exit. He was too engrossed into his penis. The veins stretched from his pillar of flesh to his crotch, imitating a growing tree’s roots. The dong pulsed with life and growth. It was about to bloom.
Some pre-ejaculate fell on the floor between his spread legs. The snugness of his shoes seemed to have grown to a crushing pain. Just like his growing python, his limb ends swole up, hands and feet alike, from the excess of hormones and testosterone drowning him.
His arms felt sore from the exertion of beating off and off and off, covered in thick pulsing veins. Quent barely realized that he had taken out his full ballsack at some point, ready to unload a massive amount of seed.
Unable to hold any longer, Quent let out a loud groan, a brick-like resistance in his throat giving out, his vocal cords dropping a full octave lower. The moment he crossed the point of no return, his penis swelled further, throbbed so thick he felt it pulse larger in his hands, pushing past a footlong monstrosity. As everything fell into oblivion except the pleasure brought from his privates, Quent’s jaw slacked down. His tongue hung out and slobbered massively, saliva coating his chin and thick facial hair, dripping on his ill-fitting shirt.
Reveling in pleasure, Quent did not apprehend the absurd amount of ejaculate that sprayed all over the stall. Like there was no end in sight more came out and out, and still out, to a point where the pleasure grew toxic as his thirsty balls hurt from expelling so much seed. The geyser eventually came to a stop, the masturbator’s large testicles finally emptied. Still, the blissful spasms of an unending ejaculation kept going for a whole minute, only nothing else came out. A few minutes later, Quent finally came to. His clouded mind dissipated slightly. He could recollect his thoughts and actually move on.
Awkwardly, Quent did his best pulling his pants back up, only to hear something horrifyingly tear.
The woozy student, with no other solutions in mind, kept pulling up the breaking jeans, the ripping sound continuing all the while. When the undersized clothes were back up and hiding most of his ass, Quent tried buttoning the front, but it was a lost cause. There was no way he’d ever close them anymore, leaving his ridiculous bulge bouncing past the broken zipper. With a desperate attempt at forcing the button shut, Quent gasped as he tore further the jeans, revealing a wide gap under his pouch, between the thighs.
Defeated, the horny lad furiously pulled his shirt down as best as he could so that he could cover the perverse display of his outrageous bulge. The world only seemed to crumble further apart around him as he realized the shirt would not even reach his waist anymore. Staring in disbelief at his bulging midsection, only then he understood how much he’s packed on pounds recently. From missing classes and work, spending most of his time on pleasuring himself and his money on booze and fast-food, he’s realized the impact of his almost complete lull of actual physical activity.
Shared between denial and acceptance, Quent opened the door of his stall and looked at himself in the large bathroom mirror, the room empty by then. The man facing him was a complete stranger. Long gone was his previous athletic body, his kept hygiene, his dignity. Facing him stood a depraved hypersexual freak, a fat slob.
His hair was messy. Hell, his whole testosterone-filled body was covered in body hair. The clothes were bursting off of him. The shirt barely held the soft spherical gut he’s grown since he’s let himself go and became subject to the side effects of drug overuse. Even his fat ass had obliterated the backside and inseams of his jeans.
Looking down, he noticed that his shoes, which oddly seemed farther than he remembered, were not spared. They had been broken through by a pair of nasty and sweaty feet he didn’t recognize. He wiggled the large toes that were already fraying their way through the undersized socks, almost mesmerized by their sheer size. Shaking his head, Quent looked back at the mirror. His half-hard penis already deformed the ratty underwear he’s worn for since the previous day.
And the more he looked at himself…
And the more he saw how much of a pervert and a lazy fatass he’s become…
The hornier he grew.