PLAYING WITH FanTCdude's TOYS - part 9
Big Budd and Dane… and the Bartender catches up
It shouldn’t be too surprising to learn that nearly ALL the guys going through the Littleman’s seminar completed their assignment within the first hour of being out in public that night. Dane figured they wouldn’t be terribly discerning about who they recruited, knowing how anxious they were to have their OWN amp of the formula as a reward. Not that it ultimately mattered who they got - the Littleman’s formula could transform even the ugliest man into something better, if not handsome, certainly “rugged.” Besides, with the growth of their bodies, hardly anyone looked at their faces.
That was why Dane was surprised when the hotel shuttlebus was flagged down by the most handsome guy from this batch of recruits - the Bartender from Maryland, an athletic, but slightly pudgy straight guy who shaved his body. When he’d shown up on the first day of the seminar, Dane couldn’t wait to transform him - teach him a thing or two. Show him who he really was deep down inside, a hairy muscle-pig just like the rest of them - and the way he’d been bottoming for the Football Coach was a good start.
And then the doofus had forgotten to bring his transdermal gun when they’d gone to Ivan’s gym, putting him an amp behind the others. Though his body had improved tremendously - even if he still shaved off his hair - he wasn’t that much bigger than when he’d arrived, except in MUCH better condition - those abs, that teeny-tiny little waist, the lack of bodyfat - now he was built like one of those well-muscled underwear models. Well, to be fair, a little bigger than that. More like a well-muscled porn-star.
Now, he was TWO amps behind - about to be three behind Big Budd - so he looked small compared to them, but damn amazing compared to the rest of the world. He’d covered himself with spray glitter before going to the dance bar, clearly intending to be the focal point for the evening’s queer lust, and from the way it was streaked across his body, rubbed off here and there, he’d obviously been the object of some kind of contact.
“Oh, hey guys,” he said casually when he saw Dane kneeling between Big Budd’s massive legs, as if what they were doing was completely natural in their surroundings. “Damn,” he said to Big Budd. “You look fuckin’ awesome. You’re way bigger than your brother.”
Big Budd wagged his twenty-inch hard-on at the guy. “Muscles or cock?” he asked.
The Bartender licked his lips and said, “Both.”
Dane kept one hand on Big Budd’s balls, gently massaging them while he spoke. “Surprised to see you,” he said. “I expected you’d be dancing the night away, teasing your target until you finally delivered.”
The Bartender looked down and shrugged slightly, touching himself through his tiny posers, his cock starting to harden. “I was actually hoping I’d find you,” he said, glancing quickly at Dane. “I kind of want to do my double. Seeing the guy I gave an amp to at the bar go through his transformation - hell, get almost as big as I am - I, uh… I realized how bad I wanted it - how much I was ready for it.”
“Excellent!” said Dane. He indicated Big Budd with a tilt of his head. “We’re just going back to the hotel now to do one ourselves. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Really?” the Bartender asked, glancing back and forth between Dane and Big Budd.
Big Budd smirked. “I reckon I could always use another mouth on me.” He opened his arm to the Bartender, inviting the guy to his heavy, half-dollar sized nipple.
The Bartender gladly took position, accidentally rubbing spray glitter on Big Budd as he took the Kansas redneck’s swollen nipple in his mouth. Big Budd put his hands behind his own neck, cradling the base of his skull.
“Drive!” Dane called to the guy behind the wheel. And as they pulled away from the curb, Dane took Big Budd’s twenty-inch cock back in his mouth.
That was a ride!
At one point, while Dane swallowed Big Budd all the way to the root, the Bartender stood on the seats, one leg on either side of Big Budd’s torso, reaching up and holding the safety rail mounted to the roof, and offered Big Budd his own healthy cock - the biggest of them all before they’d begun taking the formula. Without apprehension, Big Budd greedily leaned forward and took it in his mouth, gripping the Bartender’s ball-sac with one hand.
It was so easy.
And he orgasmed - and the Bartender orgasmed - and certainly Dane did, too. And they swallowed each other with the hunger of vampires, ready to go again almost immediately. The bus ride back to the hotel seemed to take no time at all.
At the hotel, discouraged when there weren’t more people in the lobby to see them, they went to Dane’s room, which was actually a suite on the top floor. Big Budd had never seen anything as opulent in his entire life - he’d never even imagined it.
Dane suggested they shower before amping up - they were all of them smeared with the Bartender’s sparkle now. Big Budd found the bathroom as over-blown as the rest of the place, but the shower had clearly been designed for more than one person - a spout came from either side of the enclosure. It looked like it might actually fit all three of them.
Then Big Budd caught a glimpse of himself in one of the many mirrors along the wall and did nothing but stare, slack-jawed. It was the first time he’d seen himself in truly bright light since he’d taken the fourth amp and he was blown away by himself. He was more muscular than Ivan or Officer Jacobs had gotten after their dip in the cum-filled hot tub at the gym - he was nearly the size of the Old Man before they’d carted him away, mad, drunk on his own power and masculinity, to that mysterious Malibu Facility that no one would talk about.
Now, he should be called Huge Budd or Massive Budd - or Biggest Budd. He dwarfed Dane, and he completely dominated the Bartender. He loved the muscle - he dug the bodyhair - he admired the over-sized genitalia, the balls that hung like oranges, his twenty-inch cock that nearly reached his knees, as thick as a jar of sauce.
He was beyond possible, and he still had an amp to go - and he couldn’t wait!
Big Budd was beyond fear, beyond reticence and inhibition. He was all man. All Littleman’s Man.
In the shower, they washed and fucked again, this time Dane inside Big Budd as Big Budd squeezed himself tightly into the Bartender’s tiny little ass - the only thing motivating them to move along was knowing what awaited them when they finished - more of everything. They ran their hands along soapy muscles, firm cocks, and pliant asses. Big Budd loved every minute - he was gonna renovate his shower at home first thing!
They left their towels around their waists as they went back to the main room - Big Budd sat in the middle of the sofa, the Bartender moved the coffee table to the far wall and sat on the floor, leaning on the inside of Big Budd’s left leg. Dane disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a transdermal gun and several ampules of the formula.
“Who’s first?” he asked.
Of course, the Bartender was the logical choice, being so far behind. Dane shot him full of one, then the next, and then he produced a third. “Five total,” he said. “Get you up to Budd’s size, here.”
The Bartender turned his head and smiled at Big Budd. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Bring it on.”
Dane gave Big Budd his final shot next, kneeling between Big Budd’s legs and hefting his heavy balls. “You’re gonna be magnificent,” he said, causing Big Budd’s cock to stir.
“Just so’s I can suck my own cock,” Big Budd laughed, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be lacking for someone to suck you off,” Dane said, putting his own amp in the gun. “We’re counting on you and your brother to deliver the midwest to us, you know. You gotta sell everybody. Think you’re gonna be able to do that?”
Big Budd flexed his left arm, leaning in and kissing the melon-sized biceps. “I don’t reckon there’s gonna be anyone who’d be able to resist,” he said, his dick hardening.
“Nobody has yet,” Dane said, and shot himself full of juice.
There were a few beers in the small courtesy fridge by the television and Big Budd helped himself to a couple while they waited for the buzz. As anxious as he was for it to hit, Big Budd was even more excited about heading back to Kansas tomorrow, looking the way he did - FEELING the way he did - he couldn’t wait to hop in his pickup truck and drive over to Benny’s.
“I’m starting to feel it,” the Bartender said, standing suddenly, like he’d just done a few lines of coke. “Whoa… whoa…” His cock got almost instantly hard - harder than hard - so hard it seemed to want to stretch beyond itself. It wanted to grow. “Fuck, yeah,” the Bartender said, flexing for himself - his veins becoming more and more pronounced on his arms, shoulders, and thighs. “Oh, fuck…”
Dane was next. “Here we go,” he said, nodding, sighing, his hands beginning to roam across his thick torso. “Yeah, now it’s starting.”
It had hit Big Budd, too, sitting there on the sofa with his legs spread, a beer in one hand, his monstrous dick in the other, getting harder and bigger even as he watched the Bartender get off on himself, watched the Maryland beer-slinger flex and squeeze his muscles until they grew. Yeah, he felt it, like being stoned and coked at the same time, power and relaxation together, wrapped in a packaging of masculine sexuality.
Big Budd grew, sure, but nothing like any of the other times. More, it was like he hardened instead. Like the bulk of his muscle got thicker, denser, like granite with pronounced veins. It was like the sculptor and the painter air-brushed out the last of the imperfections, the weaknesses, made the final adjustments.
Big Budd was now the perfect Littleman’s Man - he was completely transformed.
He was the “After” picture candidate.
Drinking the last of his beer then tossing the bottle aside, Big Budd stood, took a second to adjust to the difference in balance and mass, then advanced on the Bartender, led by a cock that was easily two feet long.
The Bartender took him with almost no effort - just driving lust.
And while Big Budd fucked the Bartender, the Bartender grew. Even Big Budd could feel the guy’s ass thickening around his cock. “Not enough,” the Bartender said. “Not enough cock - more. I want more!”
“Not enough cock?” Big Budd growled, thrusting himself in as far as he could go.
“What? Are you kidding me? I reckon I got one of the biggest fuckin’ cocks on the planet! It don’t get ‘more’ than this.”
“No,” the Bartender panted. “I want both of you to fuck me. Both in me! You and Dane both!”
Well, how the hell were they gonna do that? Big Budd wondered - Big Budd had never been good at geometry or spatial relationships - and as lost as he was in his buzz, THINKING might not be his best asset, if it ever had been. But Dane already knew the answer, so Big Budd deferred to experience - Big Budd had rarely done anything more than the straight missionary position, anyway. It wouldn’t hurt him to broaden his horizons.
As if answering that, Dane had Big Budd enter the Bartender from the front - the Bartender wrapped his legs around Big Budd’s waist, supporting himself with his arms around Big Budd’s neck. Big Budd held the guy by his ass cheeks, spreading them wide to allow himself access to the Bartender’s talented hole.
Dane came up behind the Bartender and pressed his own substantial cock against the Bartender’s crack, wrapping an arm around the Bartender’s torso, to help Budd support him. “You ready?” he asked, using his free hand to rub his cock head along the groove.
“Put it the fuck in me!” the Bartender screamed. “PLEASE!”
So Dane put his dick next to the Bartender’s asshole - while Big Budd pulled his own monstrous schlong almost all the way out, Dane pressed his against the waiting flesh. The Bartender relaxed and pressed down, slipping over the head of Dane’s cock with some difficulty, but ultimately success.
Dane and Big Budd squeezed together in that tight tunnel, aware of each other in a completely new way, their cocks nearly crushed together. Dane followed Big Budd’s thrusting rhythm at first, but soon they had found a middle-ground between Dane’s power-thrust and Big Budd’s long-dicking. All the Bartender could do was moan and ride them - and grow some more.
At one point, when the Bartender threw his head back onto Dane’s shoulder, screaming in ecstasy, Big Budd saw little flecks of hair sprouting on the Bartender’s chest. Big Budd couldn’t resist leaning forward and licking them - the hair was so sexy. Big Budd clamped on the guy’s nipple.
The Bartender came, rubbing his cock against the fur of Big Budd’s stomach, and Big Budd could feel the cum splatter all over the two of them. Feeling the orgasm from inside another guy was something Big Budd had never experienced before, either.
He shot, too. And that set off Dane.
They filled the Bartender with their cum, so much that it leaked out onto the floor beneath them. In an orgasm that went on forever.
And as soon as it was finished, they were immediately horny again - they became insatiable. They were the ultimate men. Littleman’s Men.
They fucked for hours. Tirelessly. Each orgasm better than the last. Meanwhile, they grew. The Bartender and Dane were nearly the same size when the sun started to come up. Big Budd was still the biggest of them - neither came close to the size of his cock - though the Bartender hadn’t lost that “boyish” look - even through his five o’clock (in the morning) shadow, his face was still extremely youthful and pretty. He could seduce anyone with a look like that, from the most resistant conservative to the horniest fratboy.
Big Budd would have to rely on his gigantic cock to do his seducing.
I reckon I’d rather have a big cock than a pretty face, though, Big Budd figured. More manly.
At 6am, the phone rang. “My wakeup call,” mumbled Dane, sucking on Big Budd’s asshole. “We got a meeting at nine, remember?”
So the three of them split up to get ready - not to mention pack to go home. (Hard to believe it was Sunday already - by this evening he and his brother would be back in Kansas.) They peeled away from each other, sweaty, dried cum twisting the hair on their great muscles, relieved but not completely sated. Big Budd felt like he could just fuck forever - he WANTED to. As a matter of fact, it was hard to think of anything BUT hairy muscles and suckin’ cock.
Neither he nor the Bartender was thrilled about having to get dressed. Why couldn’t they just ride the elevator to their rooms naked? What the fuck difference did it make? Big Budd WANTED people to look at him - to see his enormous dick. He had no more inhibition, the Littleman’s formula had seen to that, and the Bartender hadn’t had any to begin with.
But Dane insisted. “Even though this is San Francisco, the law is still the law,” he said, “until we get enough guys on our side to change it. But don’t knock clothes, either. Clothes can be pretty fuckin’ sexy - and Littleman’s stuff is made to display - and enhance!”
Begrudgingly, Big Budd wore his spandex shorts, which - unfortunately - COULD stretch to fit him, but were pulled so tight through the groin that he might as well have been naked - every detail was visible - and, when properly tucked in the Littleman’s style, his big package spilled halfway down his thigh. The Bartender threw on his posing strap, which was small enough on him to leave the root of his cock exposed. Okay, Dane was right - they were hot.
They strutted to the penthouse elevator, again disappointed when they found no one in the hallway, and the car arrived empty. Big Budd had changed from a guy who never wanted to be noticed to a guy who sought ways to make people look. He’d gained an overabundance of vanity.
The back wall of the elevator was mirrored, so they could be amazed by themselves, but the lighting was so bad, posing was a waste. “I’m reckon I’m gonna re-do my house in mirrors,” Big Budd said, flexing his left biceps, scowling at the poor lighting - he couldn’t see the definition. “And better lights.”
They both hoped someone would get on and be forced to squeeze between them, but no such luck. They arrived at the eleventh floor without incident or encounter, causing the Bartender to say, “For all that, we could’ve come down naked.” He adjusted his hefty dick in the tiny posers, which seemed to just cover the head.
“Wanna ride down to the lobby and then back up?” Big Budd asked. “I reckon we’ll run into SOMEONE that way.”
The Bartender snorted. “My luck, it’ll be some chick. And believe me, I’m done with chicks. They couldn’t take these big cocks of ours anyway, even if we wanted ’em to.”
That caused Big Budd a moment’s pause. HE had been into women, too. Hell, Big Budd had been as straight as the next man - supported certain constitutional amendment proposals and the like. Them fags were disgusting. REAL men…
That thought actually made him chuckle. Real men? He was a real man now! More real than he ever had been. Confident, strong, powerful, not to mention his new physical superiority. How ironic that he’d done exactly what the guys at Benny’s Hackin’ Shack back home had warned him about: he’d gone to San Francisco and became a queer.
Yeah, he laughed to himself. “Queer.” Queer for muscle!
Only a moment’s thought, a pause, a reflection, and then he was back in the present, back to muscle and hair and huge cocks and being horny - oh, so fuckin’ horny!
“I reckon I gotta fuck,” he mumbled, touching that big, beautiful cock of his.
“I’m gonna stop in and see the Coach,” the Bartender offered pleasantly.
“You’re welcome to join me.” He rubbed a hand across his torso. “He isn’t gonna like this hair.”
“If he don’t like YOUR little bit o’ hair, he sure as hell ain’t gonna like mine!”
They laughed together for a second and Big Budd asked, “You ain’t gonna shave it off, are ya? I reckon it looks pretty damn good - masculine.” He ran his big paw across the smaller guys pecs - his cock hardened, ridiculously stretching the spandex. “I like it.”
“We gonna fuck right here in the elevator?”
Big Budd smiled and stepped closer, crowding the Bartender against the side wall. “I reckon I don’t care,” he said, looking the Bartender in the eye, pressing the tip of his cock against the Bartender’s hip. “Hell, maybe there’s even a security cam. Maybe someone’s watchin’.”
The elevator door opened just then, allowing the Bartender to step out. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go see the Coach.”
But Big Budd wasn’t into it. He didn’t share his brother’s taste. Now, Coach’s roommate, Officer Jacobs…
“Nah,” he said, shifting his cock once again as he launched his mass off the lift. “I’m gonna go check in on my brother instead.”
The Bartender snorted. “Your brother’s probably with the Coach.”
Big Budd was serious. “Then take his place and send him back to me. Okay?”
They kissed then, a good, deep, passionate, your-cum-is-drying-in-my-chest-hair kind of kiss. Big Budd had never been much of a kisser - too intimate, even with women - but he loved the feel of a rough, masculine face against his lips. Sure, the Bartender was a pretty good kisser, but nothing beat his brother.
Walking down the hall together, they playfully punched each other and teased themselves like horny teenaged boys. The hallway was just wide enough for the two of them to walk abreast, and they kept hoping - hoping - that they’d be seen by a “normal” guest.
No such luck - most of this floor was home to their compatriots.
They passed the Coach’s room first, and Big Budd waited while the Bartender knocked on the door - just to see if his brother was in there. A stranger opened the door - though there was nothing really strange about him. He’d clearly been the beneficiary of the Littleman’s formula, the way he was built - the way he had sex in his eye.
A young little thing, MAYBE twenty, possibly twenty-one, with a boyish, youthful look and the demeanor of a high-school jock. Built like a varsity letterman without a trace of bodyfat, he was as smooth as glass - like the Bartender used to be.
He was naked when he opened the door, but didn’t seem at all embarrassed by it. As a matter of fact, when he saw the Bartender and Big Budd behind him, they boy got hard immediately and made no move to hide it. “I hope I can help you,” he said. The smell of sex wafted into the hallway.
The Bartender smirked. “The Coach in?” he asked.
With the door open, Big Budd could see the mass of the Coach sitting on the bed, flipping channels on the television - the familiar theme to SportsCenter could be heard. The Football Coach was huge - he’d gotten almost as big as Big Budd.
The Coach turned his head at the sound of the Bartender’s voice. “Hey, boy, c’mon in!” he called, lifting his massive arm and waving them in.
Big Budd clapped the Bartender on the back. “Have fun,” he said. “I’m gonna go find my brother.”
A disappointed look from the hairless boy holding the door that Big Budd wasn’t joining them, but the Bartender ambled in, his huge muscle brushing past the little jock. Big Budd heard the Coach saying, “All that fuckin’ hair…” as the door closed. Smiling, Big Budd went down to the end of the hallway, to the room he shared with his brother, and went inside.
There was someone lying in the bed, but it wasn’t his kin. Sleeping - passed out? - covered in the bed sheet, an extremely well-built man snored away, looking like he’d also been sampling both the Littleman’s formula and overwhelming sexual activity. He was a hottie - his brother had good taste.
Little Budd stood at the foot of the bed, flexing for himself in the wall mirror, masturbating as he went from pose to pose. At first, Big Budd felt like HE was the one looking in a mirror. He and his brother were almost identical, but that Little Budd was half a head shorter. Same build, same bodyhair patterns, same facial features, Little Budd only lacked the over-sized cock. People would think they were twins as it was.
“Well, holy shit look at you,” Big Budd said.
“Well, holy shit look at YOU,” said Little Budd. “Look at that fuckin’ COCK! I reckon I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!”
Big Budd smiled. “Wait’ll you feel it,” he said. “It’s so big, I bet I could fuck you from here.”
Little Budd walked - strutted - over to him, throwing his big thighs around each other. He was so hot. “I don’t care where you fuck me from, so long as you do.”
The brothers kissed, wrapping their arms around each other and pressing their bodies together. When it finally broke, Little Budd said, “Ain’t you glad we spent the inheritance money this way?”
Big Budd stroked his brother’s cock. “Let’s fuck,” he said.
And without worry of the guy already asleep in their bed, they did.