Zane

A gay erotic story by Ventrego, 2016.

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“You gotta help me hide!” said Paul Therwood, 5'9" and 230 pound of tattooed biker.

Zane Peters’ grin split his dark Van Dyke. Bar lights reflected off his smooth-shaved head and black leather jacket. “Ah, the sound of a man with a problem.”

“My crazy ex-boyfriend tracked my phone! He’s almost here! He’ll kick my ass!”

“Hmm.” Zane cracked his knuckles. “And what do you want me to do to him?”

“Maybe you could . . . “ Paul shook his head. “Never mind. I just need to look different, so he won’t recognize me.”

Zane frowned. “Pity. Well, I do specialize in changing people.” Zane looked Paul over, from scalp to toes. His gaze returned to Paul’s dark-stubbled face. “You didn’t shave this morning. We could work with that.”

Paul rubbed his hand against the rough whiskers on his cheek. “Huh?”

“If you want to look different, how about a beard? It’ll take a few minutes to grow, and nobody will expect to see the new you.”

Paul’s hand continued to rub. He glanced at the doorway. “Well, okay, but . . . what am I supposed to do until then?” He checked his phone. “My ex is in the parking lot!”

Zane patted Paul’s hand. “Look. Just go lock yourself in the ladies’ room. Nobody here uses it anyway. Your beard will start to grow right away. In five minutes, you’ll have two years’ worth of beard. Especially if you wear a hat and change shirts, nobody will recognize you.”

Paul grinned, briefly. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Oh, no,” said Zane. “You won’t owe me anything. This lets me do something to you. Something . . .” Zane’s chuckle grew dark. “. . . inconvenient.”

“Whatever,” said Paul, as the door to the bar opened. “Do it quick, I gotta hide!” He dashed off to the bathrooms.

Zane grinned, his dark eyes sparkling, and wiggled his fingers in Paul’s direction.

Paul shut and locked the door to the women’s room. His first reaction was to notice how bright and clean everything was. He had just turned off his phone when his skin began to tingle.

“Jeez,” he said, a little more loudly than he intended. He rubbed his face as he stepped over to the sink.

The dark stubble left from yesterday was nearly twice as long already, shading his cheeks and upper lip steadily darker. A fierce, manly pride lit Paul’s eyes as he watched his beard develop, heavy stubble thickening into a short beard, heavy up his cheeks and down his neck. The beard grew longer, his moustache began to cover his lips, and Paul cupped his balls in one hand and soothed his face with the other as his skin pushed out a month’s worth of beard growth every few seconds.

Soon he was gripping inch-long, then two-inch-long hairs, and still it kept coming. His fingers disappeared into the thick, dark growth his face had produced. It expanded his jaw line, made his neck look fuller, and buried his mouth in a dark crop of man-fur.

He winced a bit, but the burn didn’t lessen. The beard slowly became bushier and longer. It hung from his face, swayed from side to side when he turned his head. Soon it touched his chest, long hairs catching on the cotton fabric of his shirt as it continued to grow, brushing his shoulders where even his neck had sprouted.

After two minutes, the growing, straining sensation stopped. Paul rubbed his sore mouth and gasped at the enormous bushy beard that buried his face from his cheekbones down. His chest and half his stomach were covered by the dense chin-curtain.

Paul rubbed his new man-toy with both hands and stared at his reflection. He pulled on the baseball cap, and decided he looked different enough without stealing another shirt. When he grinned at himself in the mirror, the mass around his face shifted, but the bulk of it hung down under its own weight.

“No way my ex will recognize me now,” he said to his reflection. He unlocked the door, glanced quickly to make sure nobody was around, and strolled out of the ladies’ room with a steady, casual step.

His ex, a sturdy man dressed in a silk shirt and lightweight linen pants, breezed through the bar like a vengeful harpy, screeching, “Paul, I know you’re here! Paul!”

But Paul just sat across the table from Kane, sucking soda through a straw and keeping his gaze down. The husband swooped past, not giving a second glass to the heavily-bearded man in a ball cap drinking with his bald, goateed friend.

When the harpy was gone, Paul sighed deeply. He met Zane’s questioning look. Paul’s voice was deep. “When he was good, he was very, very good. But when he turned bad, well . . .”

Zane grinned “I see. Speaking of being bad . . . it’s time for something inconvenient.”

“Huh?”

Zane gestured to Paul’s new beard. “I never do anything for free.”

Paul squared his shoulders. “Time to pay the piper, I guess. What you got?”

“I like my henchmen a little . . . taller.“

“That doesn’t sound too bad. Wait, henchmen?!”

Any further questions were cut short by a loud groan from Paul. His head rose like he was sitting up straighter. He shifted in his seat and stretched awkwardly. His arms shoved out of the sleeves of his shirt, even as his lengthening torso pulled the fabric up across his broadening shoulders, leaving his tattooed stomach bare. His calves emerged from the bottom of his blue jeans, leaving a growing gap between the pants hem and the steel-toed boots he frantically kicked off his increasingly-pinched feet. His head rose as he sat up, and up. Soon, the fit, bearded man was noticeably taller than Zane.

“The fuck?” said Paul, taking in his new expanse, and the oddly-shrunken bar around him.

Zane grinned. “Six foot three inches. You’re going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe. No to mention convincing your friends you grew a half-foot in an afternoon. I’d call that inconvenient.”

Paul stood, his pants riding high up his calves and low on his hips, his shirt undersized like he’d pulled on a child’s size, his head nearer to the ceiling of the bar. “I feel like I’m standing on something.”

Zane didn’t smile, and pointed down. “You are. Your feet.”

Paul looked down at his size fourteens and grinned. .”I guess. I . . . ahhh!”

A familiar tingle, almost painful, hit his face again. He tugged at his beard, trying to relieve the feeling. “What the . . . it’s growing again?”

Now, Zane grinned. “Oh, yes. And again, and again, and again. By this time tomorrow, your beard will be over five thousand feet long.”

Paul stared at him, newly-enlarged fists clenching. “What?!”

“Unless, of course . . .” Zane leaned forward. “You’d like to do something else for you . . .like make it stop. But then I get to do to something inconvenient again . . .”

Paul blinked. “You gotta be shitting me.”

Zane spread his hands. “We can do this the easy way. Just ask me. Now.”

“Uhhh . . . “ Paul’s beard traced its way onto his stomach, so slowly as to be almost imperceptible, but both men’s eyes measured the change. Paul glared at Zane. “Fuck off!”

The now-tall, hairy, barefoot man grabbed his boots and stomped off out of the bar, his beard trailing back over his shoulder like a short, thick scarf.

Zane settled into his seat and picked up his beer. “He’ll be back.”

==========

The next morning, Paul strode into the nearly-empty bar, dark circles around his eyes, beard trailing down his long torso and onto his trim hips. His blue shirt and jeans were quite a bit larger than what he had worn yesterday, and his lengthened strides ate up floor space like he was starving.

Zane put down his phone and blinked. “Paul.”

Paul groaned. “Barely slept a wink all night!”

Zane looked over Paul’s tall, fit, tattooed frame. “You’re out and . . . about. I was expecting a call.”

“Slept out in a field. Had to trim my beard all night long. And trim, and trim, and trim. Wore out an electric clippers and two pairs of shears. Kept waking up buried under this big mess of beard. Nice and warm, but it just wouldn’t stop. I’ve never felt so worn out.”

Zane settled in his seat. “Pushing out a mile of beard will do that to you.”

Paul shifted on his feet. “Yeah, I know.”

Zane gestured to the big, bearded man, now clad in brand new big-and-tall sizes “Looks like you found time to get some clothes.”

“Yeah. With my beard growing the whole time? Like that wasn’t awkward.” Paul grabbed his impressive chin-curtain and freed it from his clothing; it hung nearly to his knees.

Zane chuckled. “Growing a mile of beard will do that to you.” His voice was slow and smooth. “So it seems you need my help again.”

“Yup.”

Zane leaned back in his chair. “Blow me.”

Paul blinked. “What?”

Zane gestured to his crotch. “I want you to blow me. I want to feel that beard bristle around my cock while your mouth works me over.”

Paul paused for a long moment, and then looked Zane in the eye. “Why the hell not?”

Zane grinned. “Why not, indeed?”

Paul knelt down. Zane leaned back and thrust his hips forward. The tall biker tugged obediently on Zane’s leather belt, and unzipped Zane’s pants to free a good-sized cock already at half-mast.

Paul looked up at Zane, briefly.

“Get to work,” said Zane, his voice commanding. “You’re about due for another growth spurt. It would be a shame to waste it.”

Paul’s grin was buried by his massive beard. He bent forward and took Zane’s length into his mouth.

Zane groaned and stiffened. Paul’s face began to tingle even as he pulled back, stretching Zane to full length with gentle suction, then plunging forward to take the nearly-rigid inches into his mouth. When Zane’s throbbing head touched the back of his throat, Paul held it there for a long moment, breathing through his nose and feeling Zane throb with need.

When he pulled back, his beard bristled between his nose and Zane’s crotch, the feeling halfway between an enormous pad of steel wool and the padding of a teddy bear. Zane groaned loudly. Zane grabbed Paul’s cheeks through the generous overgrowth and thrust, pressing his hips into Paul’s bushy beard and burying his cock in Paul’s furry mouth.

Paul pulled his own stiff cock out of his pants and stroked as he worked Zane, the bushy beard between them growing larger and longer with every thrust.

“Oh, god, yes,” moaned Zane, “That power, that feeling, . . .!” Paul swallowed hard as Zane grabbed the back of his head. Zane shoved his stiff cock down Paul’s throat, crushing the thick-padded facial hair flowing from Paul’s lips.

Paul swallowed eagerly as Zane gave spurt after spurt, Paul’s cock echoing the performance, Paul’s own load gushing out to the time of his master’s heartbeat. Soon Paul’s hand and jeans were sticky with jizz. Something deep within him settled and quieted, enjoying the gifted meal of man-seed.

They lay together for several moments, Zane sprawled in his chair, spent and boneless, cradling Paul’s head. The tall man slumped against Zane, taking support and protection as his breathing slowed and the last of his spend dribbled onto the floor.

Their comfort time was cut short by a loud bristling noise as Paul’s beard began to grow again.

Zane inhaled and raised himself into un upright position, braced firmly against the chair and grinned broadly. The act of tucking his cock back into his pants seemed somehow ceremonial, royal.

Paul stood slowly, flinging globs of come off his hands and awkwardly tucking his own prick away even as his lengthening beard tumbled into the way. He watched it grow for a long minute. By the time the growth stopped, the end tangled around his ankles.

“You know,” said Zane conversationally. “With a beard like that, you could go around naked in public, and still be covered. It’s a good look for you. You sure you want to change it?”

Paul only hesitated for a second. “A MILE of beard. It should take a man years to grow that, not a day.”

Zane gestured. “Even a man such as you?”

Paul grunted and rubbed his nettle-stinging face. He glared at Zane, and said, “YES. Put me back to normal.”

“Very well. All the hairy growth spurts stop. Now.”

The tingle faded from Paul’s skin, leaving him with a beard that trailed from his cheeks down to the floor.

“Now.” Zane steepled his fingers. “I like my henchmen sturdy. Intimidating. Get big like an offensive lineman.”

Paul gasped and rocked back on his feet. The tingle he’d felt before had been for skin, for a surface change. This new burn, this fire, this was blood and bone and flesh, and he was being pumped up from the inside. His muscles swelled, padded out by extra pounds of fat, reshaping his shirt and busting the button open on his pants. His powerful arms stretched his sleeves, his chest swelled into two enormous pecs, shoving his beard forward and away from his strong stomach. His hips and rear rounded with thrusting, bulging, load-bearing meat; the thighs of his jeans strained and his calves grew into fat diamonds above strong size-fifteen feet. His arms swung wider, his shoulders spread broader, his stance became more sturdy, as a hundred pounds of heft and testosterone piled onto his frame, leaving him half-naked, barely clothed, and awkwardly positioned.

Paul tore off his too-tight shirt; the flex of his arms ruined the sleeves forever before the fabric gave in his grip. In moments, Zane’s new henchman was 6 foot 3 inches and 330 pounds of serious, overly-bearded brute.

Paul took in his new expanse and gave a grunt that rattled glasses behind the bar. He lurched and wrenched himself around, peeling the painfully-tight jeans off legs that could squat a small car or power him across a game field.

Zane sat up straighter in his chair. “Very nice. And you’re going to have to get yourself a new wardrobe again. How inconvenient.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small metal square. “Here, use my card.”

Paul stepped forward; the card seemed to shrink as it passed into the brute’s hands from Zane’s capable, but civilized, grip.

Zane gestured to the card. “My work address is on the back. You can find me there tomorrow.”

Paul looked at the card, and then looked at Zane. “What makes you think I’ll be back?”

Zane grinned broadly. “I know men. You’ll be back.”

==========

The next afternoon, the address on the card led Paul to a gleaming metal-and-glass skyscraper. He rode the elevator to the top floor and was gestured through glass doors by an efficient, attentive administrative assistant.

Paul’s shoulders made him wide even for his height. His beard had been trimmed to chest length. His tailored suit did nothing to his the bulky aggressive slab of his body as he maneuvered his way onto Zane’s carpet. Paul filled the space like a new piece of furniture.

Zane looked Paul up and down. “Suitably intimidating, if I say so myself.”

Paul pitched the credit card towards Zane. “Thanks.”

Zane tucked the card into his back pocket and closed a file on his desk. “So. Let’s get to the reason you’re here.“

“You sound like you already know.”

Zane smiled. “Yes, but what prompted this?”

Paul harrumphed, a deep back-of-the-throat sound. “They asked if I dress left or dress right. I had no idea. I want to be hung bigger.”

“Mmmm.” Zane stood and approached Paul, placing a strong-but-soft hand on Paul’s bulging chest. “Do you know how many men I’ve given penises the size of their forearms?”

Paul paled visibly. “Not that big! Big enough to have fun with, but I’ve, uh, got holes to fill.” He gave Zane a look.

“So. Seven-and-a-half, no . . .eight and a half inches,” said Zane. Paul opened his mouth, but Zane waved away his objections. “And thick enough to make whoever’s blowing you stretch a bit, yes?”

Paul nodded.

Zane stepped closer. “If I do this for you, you agree to be my henchman for life. You’ll follow my orders, jump what I say, break who I say, fuck when I say.”

“How’s the pay?”

“Money’s not something you’ll have to worry about ever again.”

Paul looked him in the eyes. For all of Paul’s bearded, muscular, height advantage, there was no question who would be in charge from this moment forward.

Paul nodded.

Zane grinned. “Well, then.” He put his hand on Paul’s crotch. The big man stiffened, and groaned quietly as the bulge in his dress pants grew long and fat and heavy, outlined clearly down his left leg.

Zane stepped back and gave Paul a final look-over. “Very nice. Now strip, henchman.”

While Paul freed himself from the suit, Zane cleared the top of his sturdy desk and stretched out on it. Some kind of quilting softened the wooden surface, leaving him comfortably perpendicular to Paul’s hips.

Paul looked down at the smaller man in front of him. “Yeah? What’s the plan, boss?”

Zane’s eyes grew large as he took in all he’d created. “I’m going to blow you, you enormous, hairy, hunk of a man.”

Paul stepped forward, his stiffening cock already larger than it had ever been before. He grinned and gestured to his magically-enhanced meat. “I got what I asked for. What about the inconvenience?”

Kane’s eyes stayed focused on the nearly-stiff prong in front of him. He waved Paul’s concerns away with one hand. “Soon. Soon.” The hand wrapped around to grab Paul’s big rump and pull the powerful man towards the desk.

Zane’s mouth was moist and slightly cool. Paul watched in shock as his boss capably sucked in the head of a cock sized for porn, working the tip with his tongue and lips before shifting position to take in more of the shaft. Paul gripped the desk as the sensations increased, Zane’s jaw open wide to admit Paul’s generous size, until Paul’s head bumped the back of Zane’s mouth.

Zane pulled off and laughed. “I really DID make you big. Just a moment.”

Paul throbbed in frustration, but Zane shifted position again, and this time the head of Paul’s cock slid smoothly into Zane’s throat, making his neck bulge with its girth as Zane took in the last few inches.

The feel of Zane’s mouth and nose against Paul’s hips almost drove him over the edge. “Hunh,” he groaned. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last long.”

Zane twitched his lips against Paul seductively, but also pulled back, giving himself a few inches of breathing room.

Although Paul was concerned about his size at first, Zane took all Paul had to give without complaint or struggle. Paul found himself thrusting roughly, thighs bumping against the edge of the desk, as Zane slurped and sucked, and swelled in his own pants.

One of Paul’s big hands reached for Zane’s crotch, and the smaller man groaned loudly around Paul’s cock. Paul took the hint and opened Zane’s pants, freeing his boss’s own stiff prick.

But Paul needed his hands to brace against the desk, and soon Zane was working himself with one hand, the other holding Paul’s shoulder, as Paul thrust into Zane’s mouth.

Paul groaned again. Zane yanked his head away and freed a hand to squeeze the base of Paul’s cock tighter than a cock ring. Paul groaned, his nearly nine-inch rod bouncing in the air between them, but lacking the stimulation needed to go over the edge. His unspent load churned in his balls, boiling for release.

“You’re close,” said Zane through swollen lips, voice slightly hoarse. “That’s good.” He looked up at Paul. “Because you, my friend, unload like a dozen men. Maybe more.”

Paul’s growl echoed through the office. His ball-busting load doubled, leaving him twisting and pressing against Zane’s hand for release. The load became enough for four men, making his scrotum swell and putting rising pressure on something inside, just above his hips. The load doubled again, enough for eight horny men, and his scrotum hung heavy between his legs like a full water balloon. Paul groaned and thrust, but Zane refused him satisfaction, watching as the load doubled one last time. Paul’s balls were mercilessly forced larger, growing with meaty squeaking sounds, while his hips filled and his tubes bulged and his cock throbbed. Soon Paul felt the sloshing even in his stomach, of a monstrous burden of semen he had to unload now.

Zane gave him a momentary smile. “I think you’re ready.” He released his hand’s vice-grip and dove onto Paul’s jumbo cock all the way down to the root.

Paul barely managed two thrusts before he felt the seed-load moving, making his cock bulge down its length and gushing into Zane’s warm, moist depths. Zane swallowed eagerly as Paul shot, and shot, and shot, groaning like a beast and thrusting with his full might. Zane’s eyes widened as the thick, fertile man-sperm kept coming, but he gulped and swallowed steadily like a man downing a milkshake, his own seed spilling between his clenched fingers.

Finally, Paul felt his balls relent. The pressure in his hips eased. The sloshing in his stomach was gone. He thrust a few more times into Zane’s mouth, unloading what would have been a good-sized load for any normal man, but for Paul was just the remnants of a massive spend.

He pulled back and tumbled into the chair behind him, fat cock drooling down his thigh.

Zane belched quietly, sat up, and wiped his swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he said in a voice that made it clear he’d be hungry for more soon.

Zane produced some warm, damp towels, and began to clean up. By the time Paul had recovered, Zane was dressed and the office was back to normal, except for Paul’s clothes on the floor, and a faint lingering smell of sex, sweat, and testosterone.

As Paul dressed, Zane said, “I recommend you go home. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is your first day helping me take over the world.” After a pause, Zane added, “Good work, Paul - I mean, henchman. Just be here at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow and we’ll get you started.”

Paul’s pants bulged in an unmistakable way in the crotch; his balls and cock had grown too large to dress down. He looked down at it, and then back up at Zane. “But what am I supposed to do?”

Zane touched a finger to his chin. “This and that. Stand around an look impressive, mostly.” He glanced down at Paul’s crotch. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble there. You’re basically a bouncer. With privileges.”

Paul grinned. Zane grinned briefly in return, and then turned back to his work.

==========

The next day, Zane’s office doors were closed. Zane promised lunch would be enjoyable, but for now, Paul stood at his station outside, casually upright, watching for trouble.

His eyebrows rose when the elevator arrived and his ex stormed out, all silk and linen and attitude. As his ex strode towards him, Paul shifted uneasily on his feet. His eyes looked around for an escape route. But when his ex stood toe-to-toe with him, Paul realized his ex didn’t look so intimidating any more.

“Let me in,” snarled his ex. “That Zane took my boyfriend from me and I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

Paul blinked. The anger in his ex’s eyes wasn’t directed at him. In fact, his ex didn’t even seem to recognize him. Paul settled back on his heels and folded his arms in front of his bulging chest. “Zane’s busy.”

“Not for long.” His ex produced a gun from somewhere in his billowy shirt.

Paul grabbed the wrist that held the gun and squeezed with the force of a powerlifter. The ex wailed as the bones in his wrist cracked and his hand unclenched, dropping the weapon into Paul’s big grip. Paul set the weapon on the floor, and as he came up, hoisted the ex against one shoulder and powered him back to the elevator, driving him against the wall like a football player slamming a blocking sled. His ex groaned and went limp, falling to the floor and gasping for breath.

“Never come back here again,” said Paul, his voice deep and commanding.

His ex looked up from the floor and scowled. “You wouldn’t be so tough if my boyfriend Paul was here.”

Paul smirked a little, stepped back to the door, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well, I work for Zane. And anyone who wants to give him grief has to get through me.”

His ex rode the elevator down, a shattered, defeated man.

Paul planted his feet shoulder-wide on the industrial carpet, adjusted his bulging crotch, and looked forward to lunch.

The End