Goldilocks was Wrong

A gay transformation story by Ventrego 2020

==========

I knew it was going to be an interesting trip when I met a naked redneck with a dick that hung to his knees.

Even soft, that big flesh-hose attached to his crotch was as thick around as his wrist. I had to pull my gaze up to see his thick, dark, slicked-back hair, neatly-trimmed beard, nice pecs, flat stomach, decent-if-not-overblown arms, and fit legs. The fact the he was naked except for a pair of sandals didn't hurt. He smelled like booze, sun, wood smoke, and hair gel.

But the star of the show was clearly the fat tube of dick that swung between his legs like a heavy clapper on a bell. I watched it come toward me like an awestruck kid being cornered by a snake handler.

"Hey there, stud," he said. "My name's Earl. How's it going?"

I tried to meet his gaze. Being at a campground with gravel walks, cabins, and dense pine trees should have made it easy to look elsewhere. My eyes kept drifting south. "You, uh . . . looks like you got a wish."

"What gave you the first clue?" He grinned and rocked his hips, which made that monster cock swing out past his legs.

I whistled. "Jeez, dude!"

His eyebrows rose and he chuckled. "Didn't your daddy teach you how to swear?" But he put his arm on my shoulders and pulled me over to his cabin. "Want to see it in action?"

Soon he was seated on the sofa, an old blanket draped under his legs and a jar of lube nearby. He was chubbing up just looking at me, but for him "chubbing up" meant his monster meat-tube just got stiffer and more unwieldy. It didn't get much bigger, thank goodness. But it took all four of our hands wrestling it like an anaconda to get it up. Lube got all over the blanket as the big thing flopped, throbbed, twitched, and slowly rose to full mast. It stuck out well past his knees like the leg of a tripod.

I gave a long, low whistle. "Anyone ever tried to blow you?"

He laughed. "Yeah, lots of guys. They don't get far."

I knelt down in front of him - an arm's length further away then I usually did to service guys. "Mind if I try?"

He shrugged and grabbed his cock at the base and a foot up. "Sure. The lube's water-based." He wiped the last six inches off for me like a gentleman.

I opened my mouth wide and tried to swallow a cock-head the size of a very large plum. It didn't work. I pulled back, chuckled, stretched my jaw, gripped his thick shaft and tried again from another angle. And again.

To his credit, he didn't get any softer - dude was ready to fuck - but we were both laughing by the time I pulled back and shook my head.

He just smirked at me knowingly. There was a lot of pride in that smirk. My own stiff prick twitched at that.

We re-lubed him up and got to work, him squeezing the base and the first eight inches of the shaft, me working the head with both hands and helping keep things supported at my end. I couldn't hold off and started to stroke my own, much more grippable prick while I polished the end of his mini-flagpole of a cock.

He thrust, groaned, and unloaded a thick wad of seed onto my face and chest. I shot back with my own load, which spurted onto the blanket and his calves.

I left him happy, smiling, and watching TV while he waited for his monster erection to subside. He waved me off with a "Thanks, buddy."

==========

A couple cabins down, I heard the slap of one beefy man against another. I poked my head in and saw a smooth chubby man with a thick horseshoe mustache taking it like a champ while a fitter, stronger guy fucked him.

The guy on top noticed me first. He stopped thrusting and tapped the big guy's shoulder.

The big guy took one look at me, smiled, and squeezed his rump around the man's hard cock. "Don't stop now," he said suggestively and winked at me. "This party is just getting started."

The top pushed in, the big guy bore down, and soon they were back up to a steady rhythm.

The big guy looked back at me again and said, "I'm Dale."

The top said, "I'm . . ."

Dale pressed his full rump back and ground back - the top groaned with pleasure. Dale said, "Shut up and fuck me." The top obeyed sheepishly.

I couldn't help but watch, my cock half-chubbed as these two hot guys went at it. The top's muscles bulged and flexed; Dale's bulk did the same as they humped and bucked against each other, two big men giving each other pleasure.

Dale met my gaze and bragged, "I'm . . . unh . . . such a fucking bottom. I can take ANYTHING up my ass. I sat on a twelve inch dildo once! It was amazing, feeling that big mother fill me up. And when it hit my prostate with six inches to go, I was fucking OVER the MOON."

The guy fucking him paused. "A foot long? Really?!" He looked down awkwardly at where his hips were pressed up against Dale's beefy backside.

Dale followed his gaze and ground back against him. "Don't get jealous. You're doing great!"

Soon the top was driving it home and hitting that all-important spot deep inside Dale. The pounding grew faster. Dale gripped the side of the bed with his strong hands. The guy on top of him thrust faster, pressed hard against him, and both men groaned loud and long.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, GOD, yeah!" Dale roared as the top man's seed was deposited up his backside. Dale squeezed the poor mattress out of square as their combined weight squashed it and his own need to unload made him lose control.

Finally they went limp, sweaty, and gasping. The top slid off Dale with an audible "pop".

Dale rolled over and flopped a heavy arm across his fucker. "Thanks, buddy. That was great!"

The top began to snore.

Dale lay back, swabbed his ass out with a towel, and gave me a shit-eating grin. "That oughta do me for a couple of hours." He wiggled contentedly against his snoring buddy, picked up a tablet, and started to read a book. "Come back this afternoon if you want to give me a go!"

My eyebrows rose and I walked on.

==========

The next dozen cabins were a real adventure. There was a true-to-life lumberjack, complete with long beard, thick accent, and big timber. A beefy, bearded guy had tusks like an orc and liked to growl a lot during computer games - and sex. One guy burped a lot and his buddy who was into it. And there was that hairy exhibitionist who liked to run around camp naked.

Finally I arrived at the administrative cabin. It was twice as large as the others. The nameplate next to the door read "Al Jensen".

The guy at the big desk was seated behind several stacks of paperwork and clicked away on a desktop computer. He was about six feet tall, short brown beard, short-cropped brown hair, and the fit-but-slightly-fat build of someone who lifted and ate, but didn't overdo either too much.

He waved a hairy arm in my direction. "Hey, new guy! Grab a seat."

I sat in one of the sturdy leather chairs on the public side of the desk.

"Sorry, but someone has to make sure this place gets cleaned. And the laundry is done. And there's enough food. And the lights stay on." He clicked a few more times, moved a paper to another pile, and turned to face me. "So you're the guy who's been fucking his way from one end of my camp to the other."

I blushed. "My reputation, uh, precedes me."

He shrugged. "Word gets around." There was no judgment in his voice, but also little interest.

"Speaking of which, what did you DO to these guys?"

He leaned back in his seat. "I give people what they want."

I laughed and gestured outside. "They WANTED this?"

He nodded. "Of course. Everyone has a thing. I give it to them. Of course, I tend to give them a LOT of what they want." He grinned. "That's my thing!"

I stared at him. "No kidding!"

"Speaking of which, what's your thing?"

I found myself speaking without really wanting to. "Well, I always wanted to be a big fat redneck. Easy going, beer gut, confident . . ."

"I've got . . . " He clicked the mouse. "Five cabins available. Would you rather be next to a security guard with big boots, or a horny lumberjack?"

My voice was mine again. "I don't want to stay here!"

Al frowned slightly. "Oh. That's too bad. Are you sure?"

"Yes! This is terrible! These guys are trapped here!"

His frown deepened. "How so?"

"You tricked them! They have to live out this weird twisted fantasy life and they can never leave!"

Al straightened several stacks of paper. "Look. My rents are reasonable and I keep everyone comfortable. The guys stay enhanced as long as they're here. And they're free to leave, and go back to normal, anytime they want."

I stared at him. "Why make them stay here? I bet you could just change them and send them on their way."

He shrugged. "I could, but I like to make sure things work out for people. Keeping them close by lets me keep an eye on them." He paused. "Besides, I like having them around."

It was my turn to frown.

"My camp. My rules." Al turned back to his computer. "By the way, stay for dinner if you want. We're having barbecue chicken, some really amazing tofu wraps, corn-on-the-cob, and all the beer you can drink tonight. Talk to these guys. You'll see we're really doing all right here."

I rolled my eyes. "You love being the ruler of your little kingdom, don't you? Suppose I called the cops on you. Or the media?"

Al's eyes flashed. He tossed some paperwork aside. "Fine. I'll show you what a monster I really am. Starting now, everyone's going back to normal." He stood up and pointed at me. "You go around, see how the guys feel about that. I'm going for a walk."

===========

I went back to the camp entrance and retraced my steps from there.

Earl was still woofy for a fit guy. But instead of a huge cock, he now had a little nub of a penis. He saw my look, swore, and said, "Four and a quarter inches. HARD."

I shrugged. "Hey, some guys like small dicks."

Earl swore again - this time in my direction. I moved on.

Dale sat on his bed, wincing, and rubbed his chubby ass with one hand. A different top sat next to him looking nonplussed and pulling his pants on.

"Sorry," said Dale. "I'm just too sore right now." As the top left, crotch still bulging, Dale called out, "Can we try again later?"

And so it went in the other cabins.

When I tracked Al down, he met my gaze with a slow-burning anger. "So? How did it go?"

I shook my head.

"Should I put these guys back the way they were?"

I shrugged. "Probably. And I was wrong. I was wrong about you, and this place."

There was a quiet moment.

"You sure got along with the guys fast enough." Al said, "I could use a second in command here." He glanced at the stack of work on the desk. "I do the paperwork, you take care of practical support stuff. As my right-hand man you'd have broad leeway to make things happen. Magic things. And we both get more play time with the guys. Deal?"

"You'd need a pretty sturdy guy to take care of the practical stuff, wouldn't you?" I glanced at him sideways. "A big beefy redneck type, maybe?"

He paused, and then grinned and shook my hand. "I can't imagine someone less than three hundred pounds holding down this job."

I stood up, stretched, and pointed to the paperwork. "Great. You take care of this side of things. I'll make the rounds first thing tomorrow."

==========

The next morning I awoke in my cabin, ripped the sleeves off my shirts, and grew a goatee. My beer gut swelled until I couldn't see my feet! The southern American accent made me sound like a completely different person. Which, in a way, I was. But somehow everyone recognized me right away.

I spent the next few days lumbering around the camp, talking to the guys, and making amends. It wasn't enough to just set things right. I owed EVERYONE. And Al had showed me how much fun it was to take advantage of their quirks.

Earl grinned as his meat-tube swelled up back to knee length. What he doesn't know, once in a while his cock will grow all the way down to his ankles! It'll go back to normal the next morning, but some days he'll be tripping over his penis. I don't think he'll really mind.

Dale's sex drive went back up, as did his capacity for taking foot-longs up the behind. What he doesn't know, once in a while he's going to get a serious case of hungry ass. Tree stumps and fire hydrants won't know what hit them.

As for me, I keep a wheelbarrow near my cabin for the days when my beer gut decides to triple in size.

Like Al says, everybody's got a thing.

THE END

____________

Goldilocks was Wrong - Lumberjackin'

A gay transformation story by Ventrego, 2020

Beauregard Palmer was short, smooth-cheeked, and skinny. He stood in a gay bar, watched a sturdy hairy bear walk past, and announced to his friends, "I wish I was a big, burly lumberjack."

A nearby man glanced over and wiggled his fingers.

Beauregard found himself standing outside a cabin in the middle of the woods. He was still a small guy, but now he wore logging boots, sturdy corduroy jeans, a red-and-black flannel shirt, and a knit cap. Water dripped from greenery all around as the sun began to warm a forest long buried beneath snow.

A one-room log cabin waited for him, nearly buried by overgrown pine trees.

Against the cabin leaned a large axe. Beauregard looked at it, shrugged, hefted it with some effort, and got to work.

Beauregard positioned himself near a stiff pole of a tree and hefted the axe. He swung, grunted, and grinned. The axe whacked into the trunk with a satisfying thunk that made his monkey brain smile and his junk twitch.

Beauregard swung again. And again.

It felt like the first tree would never fall. His palms grew red and his arms throbbed with effort. But he kept at it until the tree cracked and fell with an enjoyable crash of limbs and branches.

Beauregard chuckled to himself. "Timber!"

He rubbed his sore hands on his pants, then moved onto the next tree.

And the next.

Beauregard's days filled with chopping, eating, and sleeping.

The first weekend, he went to town for food and supplies, and found himself visiting the local whorehouse. He nodded at a likely young man and they went upstairs together.

The boy fluttered his lashes at the lumberjack-in-training. "What's your name, handsome?"

"BeauregaaAA . . ." Beauregard's voice cracked with disuse. "Beaureg . . ." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Beau."

The boy smiled and helped Beau the lumberjack release some tension.

==========

Weeks went by. Beau chopped, and chopped and chopped.

His beard grew full and bristly.

Muscle filled out his neck and shoulders. Effort made his arms swell until they bulged against his thick, meaty pecs. His back grew broad, and then broader. An increasingly-round rump and strong thighs filled pants sized for a working man.

His hands grew. His feet grew. His dick grew.

Beau bought larger clothes and barely paid attention.

But the boy-whores in town noticed. Soon they fluttered about when someone caught sight of Beau lumbering into town. Beau barely talked. He smelled strongly of man-musk and sawdust. But the boy-whores preened and posed when he strode into the brothel, eager to be picked by this stern-faced growly bearded man who had a week's worth of stress to unload.

Soon the forest around the cabin was clean and cleared. Stacked woodpiles grew daily. When Beau caught sight of himself in shop windows, he was briefly pleased by what he saw: a powerful, burly, capable man who lived a simple, physical life. And Beau was the most popular man in the whorehouse.

For a few months.

But Beau kept chopping. And Beau kept growing. Everywhere.

His beard grew down to his chest, then across increasingly-bulgy pecs toward a strong stomach. Shirt sleeves strained around his arms even before the first stroke of the day. His swollen ass, thighs, and calves demanded pants sized for a working man, then a large working-man, and then just plain LARGE.

His hands grew into jumbo gorilla mitts, brutal in their strength and calloused from long use. His feet spread and stretched until he had to custom-order boots. And as for his dick . . .

Beau knew he was in trouble the next time he went to the whorehouse. A week's worth of need strained down his leg. Money clinked in his pockets. He even knocked the sawdust off his big shoulders before he came in.

But the boy-whores exchanged looks when he walked in. A few were still eager, but several shrank back from his impressiveness.

The next week, he was bigger, his need was worse, and he had fewer takers. Finally, one day the most accommodating boy-whore smiled sadly and said, "Sorry, handsome." Beau growled something about paying good money and stormed out.

July ended hot, sweaty, and unsatisfied. And so did Beau's trips to the whorehouse.

Beau ducked into his cabin and slammed the door. Growly swears rumbled from him as he stripped out of his sweaty clothes. He grabbed a jar of bacon grease, slicked up his calloused hands and grabbed his throbbing, angry erection.

It took both hands.

He should have realized sooner, but he'd been magically-focused on chopping, eating, sleeping, and weekly fuck sessions.

Now that his mind was his own again, he stared at it - and himself - for a long minute. Beau finally realized what those whores had known for a long time. He was HUGE.

Beau picked up a hand mirror in a greasy mitt and surveyed himself.

He'd grown over the past six months. Not just taller, but meaty, firm, massive. Muscles flexed and bulged as he moved the mirror around and positioned it to take stock of himself. He'd never seen anything quite like his body except on videos! He looked like a hockey player plus a longshoreman plus a day laborer all rolled into one. His eyes were keen and dark, his beard full and rampantly long. And his cock . . . it took both his big hands to wrap and stroke that monster! He chuckled. No wonder the boy-whores were tired and sore when he was done with them! He gave it the same unyielding grip that made an axe stronger than a tree and thrust experimentally.

His groan reverberated through the cabin.

Soon Beau was stumbling and lurching as he thrust, stroked, shoved, and humped. He knocked over the table, stumbled against the bookshelf, a lamp broke and pottery shattered, but it didn't fucking matter because the tension in his crotch felt so damn GOOD. Beau growled and grinned and thrust a cock sized for porn between two massive mitts, lubed with pig and fired by a week of hard exercise.

The head swelled, his strong hips tensed, and Beau gushed jizz like a giant spitting on a city. Thick white cream shot across the small cabin. Man-seed landed on the bedspread, the tilted table, the bookshelf, and the rug beneath Beau's jumbo feet.

When the last of his load was spent, Beau stumbled over to the bed and tumbled down onto it, too tired to care about the sticky wet spot beneath him. His snores rumbled peacefully until the next morning.

When he awoke, Beau stared at the wreck of his cabin. The bookshelf was half tipped over, books sprawled on the floor beneath it in disarray. The table was askew, one leg broken. A lamp, a pot, and three plates had fallen to the rug and cracked or shattered.

Beau stared down at his truly massive morning wood and muttered, "See what you did?"

His dick just bobbed in the warm air.

Beau's life continued apace. Beau made regular trips to the lake; he cut a path to make the going easier. As August rolled on to September, the forest cooled, pine trees dropped their cones, and leaves on the few deciduous trees changed from green to red, orange, and yellow.

For Beau, life got easier and harder.

Trees fell faster than ever before. His axe seemed to shrink in his hands. What had once been an effort to lift was now a lightweight, friendly tool, almost an extension of his arms. Small trees lost it after a few strokes. Larger trees were more effort, but hardly a struggle. Even lodgepole pines fell after thirty minutes of steady work, always landing in his orientation.

But with every tree down, Beau grew more.

He had to turn sideways and duck to fit into the cabin that had once seemed spacious. Few shirts could sleeve his meat-swollen arms and none buttoned over his chest; he'd resorted to sleeveless wool undershirts to keep the cold off his torso. Hands twice as big as a normal man's bulged from loose flannel overshirts that looked more like tents. The seat on his outhouse kept shrinking as his ass expanded to jumbo size, and his legs bulged so much he swaggered when he walked, whether he wanted to or not. He was at the largest size boots he could custom-order, and even those were getting tight.

And his dick . . . At first he'd enjoyed it when it grew too big for the boy-whores in town. His jumbo hands were more than capable of wrapping that monster, and it felt better than sex had those last few weeks.

And as his morning wood stretched a few inches longer, and swelled fat and heavy to fill his jumbo grip, Beau counted himself a lucky man.

But every morning it got thicker, and thicker. And THICKER. Even his massive mitts struggled to grip that much meat. His morning wood took longer go down every day so he could piss. Beau's weekend pleasure sessions felt more like jacking off a horse than rubbing one out.

By mid-October, Beau dimly realized he was in trouble. He had wood and money stocked up for the winter, but his cabin was too small, his clothes barely fit him anymore, he had to squeeze his ass into the outhouse, and his fists barely closed around his bloated needy cock.

==========

Most of the small town was still asleep as Allen Jensen unlocked the door to his real estate office, opened the blinds, and turned on his computer. The weak glow of late October sunlight streamed through the windows as Allen watered the plants, settled his slightly chubby build behind his desk, flexed his long fingers, and opened a game of solitaire.

The glow from the front of the office dimmed. A bell at the front door dinged as the door opened, but Allen's attention was already off his screen.

A handsome, rugged man with long hair and a long beard crammed his way awkwardly into the office. The man's shoulders were so large he had to turn sideways to get through the door; meaty arms and massive pecs made his elbows swing wide; and bulges in the wool that covered the man from shoulders to feet made it clear he'd never skipped leg day - or butt day.

All that meat was loosely clad in a long-suffering flannel shirt and graying woolen undershirt, atop corduroy pants sized for a couple solid working men. The boots the massive man scraped off on the welcome mat left traces of forest floor in Allen's clean office.

Allen felt his smile spread wide. "Hi!" He took a deep breath and calmed some of the chirpy cheer out of his voice. "I mean . . . welcome to Pine Woods Realty. I'm Allen Jensen. How can I help you?"

"Hi. I need, uh . . ." The newcomer smiled briefly. He coughed and cleared his throat. One hand reached up to massage his beard and neck. His voice was rough and scratchy, but got smoother as he spoke. "My cabin. In the woods. It's not big enough."

Watching those shoulders flex made Allen's fingers grip the edge of his desk. He forced himself to relax and extended a hand. "Of course. Have a seat, please. I'm Allen."

The man engulfed Allen's smooth hand in a massive calloused paw. "Beau."

Beau perched on one of the chairs like an adult sitting in a child's seat. Allen's smile slipped for just a moment as the frame creaked, but soon all of Beau was settled into place. Allen made a note to get a sturdy bench or something for future plus-size visitors.

Beau's hair was clean, and his boots were as clean as they were going to get, but Allen still caught a whiff of animal musk and pine sap. He happily breathed through his nose as he turned to his computer.

Allen blinked at his solitaire game before he closed it. "I can recommend some construction companies. There's one that operates locally here. It's not quite as cheap as prefab, but the quality is better."

Beau nodded. "I appreciate quality."

Allen sat up straighter. The two men made eye contact so deep Allen felt like he was falling. "I'm, uh, sure you do. Tell you what. Why don't we go check out the site, see what's already in place, and that will help inform my recommendations."

The chair groaned as Beau shoved his way up. Allen resisted the urge to groan also; watching a huge burly lumberjack stand up right in front of you made for quite a sight. And the fat, heavy bulge in the crotch of those pants . . . Allen would have sworn it was even bigger than when Beau first came into the office. Allen stuffed himself into a warm jacket and followed the big man out.

But any thoughts of sex vanished when Allen saw where Beau lived.

Deep green forest surrounded a large clearing and a narrow path that led to a distant lake. That part looked like a nice secluded getaway! But the tiny tumbledown cabin didn't look big enough for Beau, let alone having enough room for another (admittedly lucky) guy.

But Allen stuck his head in the cabin. The inside wasn't bigger than the outside. Allen looked Beau up and down. "You. Live here?"

Beau nodded.

Allen's breath fogged in the cool air. He reached up and patted Beau on the shoulder."Don't you worry about a thing. I know some contractors, we can have this place fixed up in a jiffy." Allen took out his phone and made some calls.

Beau went back to lumberjacking. He ate, chopped, ate, and slept.

But now strangers came in sturdy trucks and cheap but reliable cars. Power lines stretched from the nearby town to Beau's land. A septic system was installed. Crews of men appeared as if from nowhere, bringing treated logs and raising a two-story log cabin ten times the size of Beau's old shack. Furniture, a computer, a large TV, a dishwasher, and other necessities of life poured down the road and turned Beau's rustic survival into a comfortable modern life. Allen put a plus-sized phone in Beau's hand and announced he was now connected to the world.

The crews built temporary cabins for themselves as they finished work in the early December snow.

As winter came on, deep and heavy, Beau finally stopped growing at football player size. His mighty axe strokes turned logs into firewood for himself and the crew. The new house proved robust enough for his weekly jack-off sessions. Beau found himself entertaining the guys when they came to visit. Despite some issues keeping food stocked and electricity paid, they found ways to be comfortable together.

Allen returned in late spring to coordinate the construction wrap-up and payoff, but some of the crew didn't want to leave. When Allen learned about the administrative problems, he stepped in and took over. Soon he was running a small forest campground! He hired a broker for Pine Woods Realty so he could live at the camp full-time, expanded the temporary cabins to be more livable, and used Beau's charms to get financing for an administrative building and chow hall.

One day Allen was working on menus for the week, while Beau leaned against a post and talked with one of the camp guests.

Allen looked Beau up and down. At nearly seven feet tall, deeply bearded, and big like a pro wrestler, Beau made an impressive figure.

Allen smiled. "I'm glad you wanted to be a lumberjack. You certainly grew into the role!"

Beau stared at Allen as he realized for the first time just who made this all happen.

One of the crew spoke up. "This is the guy who turned you into a lumberjack?" He grabbed his waistline. "How about a few more inches where it counts?"

Another one said, "I love bottoming but can't fit much up my backside. How about making me more, uh, capable?"

Suddenly the weekly menu became secondary as the guys closed in! Beau jumped up and bodily hauled men away to form a line. But there was no stopping the sudden flood of interest.

Allen found himself learning more about the kinks of the camp men then he'd have ever expected. One guy wanted orc tusks, another really loud belches, another a dick that hung down to his knees - "seriously, man, to my knees!"

But somehow, after that initial rush of desire, things settled down into a steady rhythm. Most guys had their own cabins, except for a few who wanted to share. And although sex was never far from anyone's mind, they also learned to live with their specific, occasionally awkward, enhancements.

By late summer, Allen pushed away some paperwork and thought to himself, "I could go back to Pine Woods Realty." But he got out of the office and walked around the forest campground full of friendly, horny men who got a lot of whatever they were into. Beau's heavy, grunting strokes echoed from off in the distance.

Allen decided he'd manage the camp - for a while, anyway.

THE END

____________

Goldilocks was Wrong 2 - Earl goes overboard

A gay transformation story by Ventrego 2020

Earl sat naked on a folding fabric chair outside his cabin at the heavily-forested Pine Woods campground. He was more rugged than handsome, dark hair slicked back, tattoed pecs and arms bared to the sunlight, legs just slightly pale. And he had a cock as thick as his wrists, that hung down to his calves when sitting.

A short-term camp visitor stood nearby, staring openly. Al, the camp manager stood nearby smiling faintly.

"Howdy," said Earl, drinking coffee from a mug.

Al gave him a nod. "Earl, this is Bruce. Thought you might like to say hi."

Earl squared his shoulders and flexed his pecs. He didn't quite smile at Bruce, but he smirked a little. A casual nudge from his free hand set his fat knee-length cock swinging. "Hi."

Bruce stared openly.

Earl stood and moved a little closer to Bruce. His hose-cock swayed between them like a charmed snake. "You like that?"

Bruce licked his lips and swallowed hard. ""Impressive. Al wasn't lying!" He seemed to rally himself and glanced around. "I don't see the point of having a dick that big."

Earl laughed. "You think this is big? Every so often it grows all the way down to my ankles. Drags on the ground when I sit. Trips me up if I'm not careful."

Bruce's eyebrows rose and his crotch twitched.

Earl leaned close to Al and said quietly, "What say we put on a show for him?"

Al nodded.

Earl put a strong arm around Bruce's shoulders; he had to reach up slightly. "I was about to head in for an afternoon jerkoff session. Want to join me in my cabin? Nothing hotter than two guys getting off together."

Bruce nodded; he and Earl went up the stairs into the cabin together.

Al wiggled his magic fingers in their direction, then headed off towards other campers.

==========

Ten minutes later, Bruce and Earl were naked on a warm summer afternoon, in a rather large cabin in a forest campground. The furniture was shoved away against the walls, clearing a fake but soft bearskin run.

Earl stretched out in the middle of the room, head propped up on a small pillow, rubbing his long, lube-slicked, stiffening cock with two hands. The big piece of meat rose like it appreciated the attention. The dick didn't get much bigger as it became erect, but it was already as long as his forearm, and soon the stiff length of it stood straight and proud above him.

It took a little encouraging from Earl, but soon Bruce was just as naked and just as stiff. His slightly-chubby build made a nice contrast with Earl's solid frame. Bruce's prick may not have been a monster, but it was certainly big enough to enjoy. Earl eyed Bruce just as happily as Bruce eyed Earl.

Earl's baritone voice was confident, expectant. "You ready, buddy?"

Bruce took his own stiff prick in a lubed-up hand. "Yeah!"

Earl made a big, beautiful T: hard body stretched out on the floor, stiff prick straight up above him. He gripped his jumbo pecker in two strong hands and slowly stroked up and down its length. Bruce noticed Earl kept his pubes neatly trimmed; for a crazy moment he thought it was to make that big dick look even bigger.

"Oh, Jesus, it's big," said Bruce.

Earl grinned proudly. "You can help me with it if you want."

Bruce knelt down and tentatively reached out. The stiff strut of Earl's cock was hot, firm, but soft to the touch, like an iron piston under thin safety padding.

Earl chuckled. "Don't worry, kid. It won't bite."

Soon the cabin filled with the wet slurping sounds of two men stroking it together. Earl kept one hand down near his groin while the other worked the first seven inches of his shaft. Bruce had one hand on his own dick and the other rubbed up and down another whole cock-length of Earl before he even got close to Earl's cock-head.

Earl shifted his hips, repositioned the pillow to prop his head up and said, "Get ready, kid."

"Huh?"

Earl tightened like he was about to do a sit-up, grimaced, and pressed his hand against his crotch. He made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl. "Guhrrrr . . ."

The already-jumbo cock in their hands pulsed, swelled, and grew a full inch longer.

Bruce's jaw dropped.

Earl grunted, flexed again, and pushed. His stiff pole rose higher up into the air. Bruce stepped back and stared as Earl ab-crunched, stretched, and strained his cock until it looked like a third leg stuck straight up into the air.

Bruce gasped. Earl lay back, sweating and smiling at his jumbo tool. Pressing against the base took both hands now.

Bruce grasped the grapefruit-sized cock head, and pulled it towards him. The stiff shaft pivoted.

Earl grimaced a little and shifted his hips. "Easy there, kid! You've got . . . " He eyeballed his new size. ". . . four feet of leverage on me."

After giving Bruce a minute to nuzzle, stroke, and grip his new size, Earl said, "Will you do me a favor?" He pointed to the lube bottle on an offside end table.

Bruce happily slathered the four-foot flesh tube with lube. Some ran down and pooled on Earl's hips. When the rug started to get sticky, Earl said, "Don't worry about it. I'm washable, and so is everything else in here."

Soon they were both going at it again. Earl had to prop himself up on one elbow to reach higher up his own dick; Bruce helped support the weight of the four-foot meat tube at an angle.

Bruce blew his wad, gripping the extra-jumbo cock like a thick support for a yard sign.

Earl watched and flexed and thrust his hips, which made his monster cock pulse and nudge Bruce. But even as Bruce grew soft and spent, Earl stayed rock hard.

When Bruce recovered, Earl said, "You know, I always wondered if I should have asked for more. And I think you're just the guy to try it with."

Earl lay back, tensed, and groaned as his four-foot cock swelled up to five feet. He reached for it, but it threatened to tip him off-balance. He had to spread his legs, lay back, and stretch his arms out; he could only reach maybe a foot and a half up its length. He made eye contact with Bruce. "Little help?"

Bruce stepped forward. At first he tried stroking, but Earl responded better when Bruce hugged the monster cock against his chest. Earl's six-inch thrusts shoved feet of cock up and down against Bruce's skin. The lube kept things moving, but the sensation of pulling and friction on his calves, thighs, belly, and chest was making Bruce's already-spent cock start to chub up again.

Earl stopped his thrusting for a minute and seemed to consider something. He gave a lusty grin, nodded. When he set about thrusting again, it came with that pained groan. "Guhrrr . . . . Gruuuh . . . Grahr . . ."

The jumbo grapefruit-sized cock head sliding against Bruce's chest started to reach his collar bone. Then it reached his neck. It started bumping up against his chin; Bruce had to turn his head to one side as the growing shaft of Earl crept up past his face.

When he got tired of wrestling with the thing for space, Bruce stepped back.

Earl lay sprawled on the rug, a tattooed muscular chunk of man-meat. But from between his spread legs towered a cock several inches longer than he was tall. Earl sat up slightly and stared at the monster cock that jutted from his crotch like a piece of lumber.

Earl was breathing hard. Even without Bruce touching his meat, that cock pulsed and throbbed in the pine-scented air.

Earl grinned and grabbed at his monster tool with both hands. "I got the biggest dick!"

Bruce's eyebrows rose. He couldn't help himself saying, "It could still be bigger."

"Bigger?" For just a moment, Earl looked uncertain. He was still a hot guy, but he was as much dick as man now.

"LOTS bigger."

Earl thought for a moment, then grinned. "Yeah. Bigger. LOTS bigger!"

Bruce stared, his own cock rising again as Earl's swelled more! The jumbo pink shaft stretched to seven feet long, then eight. There was a slight hitch as it pressed against the ceiling, but Earl gave a mighty heave and the basketball-sized cockhead burst through the ceiling. Plaster dust rained down inside and shingles fell to the ground outside the cabin.

Earl didn't seem to be able to stop, thrusting and straining at the base of cock the size of a Greek pillar.

"That's . . . " Earl gasped. "Almost big enough. Ready to blow just . . . looking at it. But I want to be . . . huge! Longer! LONGER! GUUUUUH!"

Bruce took his own dick back in hand, stroking automatically.

Earl's strong hands gripped through the bearskin rug to grab the floor, spread legs braced against the hard wood as his cock grew truly gigantic. Earl's face flushed red and his eyes closed as foot after foot of hard dick shoved its way from his crotch, up through the ceiling, and into the forest sky above. It stretched feet longer with each thrust, the sturdy column swelling so fat it buried Earl's stomach and thighs. And it wasn't anywhere near done growing.

"GraaaaAAAAAH!" he growl-screamed. More plaster and shingles rained down, but nobody noticed. Men as far away as the camp canteen looked over and stared as a whitish-pink flesh tube as big around as a car thrust its way 80, 90, 100, 110 feet in the air.

Earl's drawn-out "FUUUUUCK!" echoed across the campground. White jizz erupted out the top, splattering the roof and yard of the cabin with basketball-sized globs of thick, creamy semen.

Finally Earl lay back, gasping and panting on the faux-fur rug, trapped beneath a dick like a lodgepole pine. His arms and legs moved uselessly; he was a strong fucker, but against a fully-grown tree dick, no man had a chance. The cabin smelled like clean man-crotch and pine trees.

Bruce's hand relaxed; he'd spent his seed a second time without even noticing.

Way up in the sky, the jumbo dick quivered, tilted, and began to soften. A startled crow that had perched atop it flew off. A cock-head the size of a refrigerator gradually slumped towards the ground. But as always, Al was a show-er not a grow-er. Things didn't shrink up all that much. Eventually Al's soft dick - still as big around as a car - stretched from his crotch to the ceiling, flopped over the cabin, down the stairs of the porch, and out onto the yard beyond.

Bruce put on his pants and opened the door to survey the damage. A dozen men were gathered outside, staring at the cabin in shock. Trapped in place, Earl surveyed the ruined ceiling and what he could see of the dick-dominated yard.

Al made his way around the blimp-sized monster tube, poked his head in the door, and then called back, "He's okay!"

Earl and Bruce began to laugh. Someone clapped, and soon the crowd was applauding Earl's performance.

Comments came from all over. "Never saw anything like that!" "Impressive." "REALLY impressive." "And I thought *I* was a size queen." "How will he take a piss?"

Eventually Al waved the crowd away, even the ones who couldn't stop staring. Earl's sofa-sized cock-head got several affectionate pats as men walked by. As Bruce turned to go, Earl said, "Hey, this was fun! You're here for a week, right? We should do this again sometime."

Bruce blushed but nodded before he left.

Al surveyed the damage, and the frankly ridiculous sight of Earl half-buried by a monster cock that destroyed his cabin and dominated the living room, rooftop, porch, and yard outside.

"We'll fix the ceiling, of course," said Al. "And the roof. But first, we've got to get you back down to normal size."

"No." The refusal came gently. Earl needed no emphasis. "Give me a couple hours."

Al thought for a moment. "Okay. Have someone get me when you're ready." He left with a smile on his face.

Earl rocked his hips, which made the room-stretching meat-tube shift and shudder in place. He rested his hands on it proudly. "I got the biggest dick."

Earl crossed his arms behind his head, lay back, and surveyed himself with a smile of deep self-satisfaction.

THE END