Augmentations 11

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I felt...ungainly. Which was unfortunate. One does not become the most powerful, the strongest, the motherfucking epitome of masculine expression and then start stumbling about simply because one is a few centimeters taller than a few minutes ago.

I knew that I also weighed quite a bit more, based solely on the new masses of brawn bulging from every inch of my larger frame. But it didn’t feel like it to me, probably because my enhanced strength was making that aspect a bit effortless.

But the size was...problematic. At least at first.

The ground looked further away, but only because it was. The room didn’t look any smaller, I wasn’t some odd gigantic being swollen to impossible dimensions. Yes, I was most certainly unusually large, based on normal human growth patterns. I estimated that I had gained at least 20 centimeters in height, and perhaps 30. That was...a lot.

But my body was also quite a bit wider and bulkier, now. Substantially so. I think it was like driving a new car, if memory served. Before the vehicles drove themselves, one had to park them, maneuvering their dimensions around the fenders of other vehicles. And you got to understand where your car began and ended, almost as if it were an extension of you.

Now, I was in a limo. I had shoulders that were far wider than they had been. My chest and ass stuck out several centimeters farther. Everything did. Hell, my cock was going to start arcing around like a third arm and knocking chunks out of the walls if I turned too quickly!

So, yes, I stumbled. And, yes, I think my companions saw me. Or perhaps, they only felt the floor shake beneath my tread, for I had to weigh nearly 150 kilos, and possibly even more. I wasn’t sure how this all worked. Was my amplified strength a result of actually possessing more muscle? Was the muscle being helped along by the chemicals and femtobots still residing inside me? Did I physically weigh more because my muscle was more dense, or would these artificial augmentations just help my muscles along when necessary, and my body was only as strong as it should be?

Whatever that measurement was.

How strong was I? What miracles could I physically perform? I understood from my entrance in the room that much of the reaction to my superior charisma and sense of masculine fervor was in the chemicals that had suffused me - and to which I appeared now immune.

And, more interestingly for me, how much of my new male power would manifest in physical sexuality? What other amplifications were included in the package, so to speak?

Literally, I felt as if I could cum buckets of cream. I felt as if I could start cumming right now, if I wanted to. My cock was hard as steel.

These were fleeting thoughts that came and went in an instant. None of that really mattered to me. I was a god, now. Truly, a god. Men would bow down before me, beg to worship me, know when I entered the room that none could challenge me.

The two men rose from their knees and, bowing, gestured back towards the door we had entered through, eyes averted from my magnificence. I realized an unintended consequence of my recent amplifification.

“You both realize that my previous instructions to you remain in effect?” They nodded understanding. “But…?”

5 did not raise his eyes when he answered. “It is...difficult, sir.” When he referred to me as ‘Sir’ in the lounge, it was part of an act. Now, I sensed that it was more than that.

“Because I’m changed?”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked at 4, my constant companion and bonded partner. “What about you?”

“I am...it is difficult,” he answered. And I realized that there was something about the bond that was different as well. We were still joined, certainly. I could feel and sense the man’s emotions and desires, but now it was as if the bond had...reversed polarity. Or something. We were not sharing, so much as I was aware of his emotions but they had no influence over my own.

“I understand,” I said, “but you have to try. If your only desire is to please me, what would please me most is that you act according to the rules I set down. Do as you desire. Act on your own impulses.”

They both said, “Yes, sir,” but in a manner which implied that doing exactly as they were doing now - more or less worshiping the ground I walked on - was exactly what they wished. They could not, or were not able, to be dissuaded from that opinion. I was simply imperative to their idea of perfect happiness. I was the Alpha Dog, and my pleasure was paramount to their own.

I sighed, nodded, said, “Lead the way,” and watched these examples of perfect male beauty shudder with delight that I had spoken to them.

We exited the mirrored room - leaving behind the vision of myself reflected in perfect, unattainable perfection from every surface - passed through the conversion room and returned to the anteroom which lead to my initial three choices. They did not pause, and continued back to the foyer, and after all three of us had entered, the doors silently closed behind us.

5 said, “Residence.” Both of my companions kept their heads bowed and their eyes averted from my majesty. I suspected they were staring at my cock. I knew that I would have been. It was glorious.

I sensed that the room was moving, though I heard no sound. An elevator, then, as well as an entryway. That made sense. So I was in the place where these augmented companions spent their time together. Elysium was their home, or at least some part of it was. Was I going up, or down? Perhaps I was going sideways, like some magic Wonkavator. It made me smile, to think that I was in the magical land of chocolate, except in this book every room was filled with perfect masculine beauty.

The elevator’s subtle rumble of movement slowed and then stopped. The doors opened and we walked forward into a darkened area, smaller that the other foyer, and this time with only a single set of doors.

“Welcome, sir,” 5 said, “to the Residence.”

The doors swung silently open.

 

There was light and sound beyond the entrance to the Residence. The light was soft, slightly pink, and it made my skin glow with a liquid metallic beauty, though perhaps part of my recognition of power was my own brightly glowing aura, with its silver white tint emanating outwards. As I moved, each of my newly grown muscles became more evident under my skin, as if the illumination had been specifically designed to showcase the beauty of the male form, throwing the absurd development of my muscles into relief, like mountains and valleys of muscular force.

The sound was the unmistakable expression of men having sex, in all its stimulating, erotic, raw and carnal grandeur.

If I had not already been as hard as a rock, no doubt my cock would’ve risen to its ultimate glory in the space between heartbeats. I was walking into sex. I could feel it, smell it, hear it. Perhaps the Residence had been designed this way, to intensify and exalt the sensations of sex in the very air I was breathing, or perhaps it was a happy accident that all this delicious erotic power was trapped within these walls, unable to get out and had been building on itself for years.

The air itself was saturated with the sensation of orgasmic bliss. I was slipping between the meaty ass cheeks of a hairy muscle stud. My cock was sliding into the warm, wet, slurping orifice of the most talented cocksucker on the planet. The hottest, wettest, longest tongue in the world was lapping at my asshole. Fingers pinched and twisted my nipples. My heavy ball sack was being tugged and tortured.

We stepped down a short flight of stairs and spread before me was nothing short of some Italian master’s vision of the ultimate male orgy. Men were not all supposed to look that perfect. But everywhere I looked, I only saw perfection.

As the Level 2 had illustrated - and 5 had explained - Augments come in all archetypes. And here they all were, gathered together in some unending debauchery of bodily revels. A celebration of man, if you will, where each participant was beautiful and naked and hard as fucking steel.

How many men? Difficult to say. At a guess, I’d put it between 50 and 100. I lived in a large city, so I suppose that made sense, but it seemed ludicrous that so many of these beings weren’t occupied with clients this evening. Not that I cared in the least, of course, because they were only there for me.

The god of absolute male power.

I looked down upon them, now. Faces of youth and age. Some faces clear of whiskers and others covered in full, heavy beards. Smooth-skinned youths and hairy, muscular bears. Level 3s and 4s and 5s. Probably 6s as well. Bulging with raw muscle, or sleek and athletic like Olympian champions.

And everywhere, consummate male beauty. Overwhelming and superhuman. Perfect and divine. Outfitted with the biggest augmented cocks and the supplest augmented skin and the tightest augmented asses.

With my supplemented eyesight, I could identify the soulcolors of the myriad beautiful men before me. The palette was tinged strongly with the red of passion, and there were waves and sparks of blue and lavender and orange and gold that cascaded through the crimson sea. Sudden swelling or brightness within the cascade signaled a single man’s intent passion, and likely orgasmic release.

It did not appear as if the orgiastic group were bathing in that passionate light. I could see the individual auras clinging to them like gossamer veils or shadows made of radiance. Each man’s light was his own, as individual in its particular arrangement of hues and tones as their physical appearance. But it made it very easy to see where the passion in the room was at its hottest, and where the men were engaged in less strenuous sexual partnerships and were, perhaps, kissing and caressing. The passionate colors cooled, but were no less luminous, in those areas.

I was beginning to doubt that my own amplified masculine power would be able to compete with what the Residence was doused in everywhere - the sensate fog of absolute sex. But almost as if in answer to that thought, all activity came to a slow, but complete, halt, and every handsome face in the room turned towards us.

Then, among the tangle of naked men, off to the far right corner of the room, there was movement as someone extracted himself from his brethren.

He stood up.

And up.

And up.

My god.

His aura was gleaming white, as mine was. He was massive, and packed with an abundance of muscular beauty, as I was. His face was an expression of absolute masculine magnificence, and I could feel, quite literally, a sense of power radiating from him even across the expanse of the room.

He just stood there, displaying himself to me, the evident and obvious king of the pride. Arms at his side, his inhumanly beautiful features held inconclusive and powerful. Looking at me almost - no, not almost, very definitely defiant of my own amplified glory.

Majestic. Magnificent. No man such as he has ever truly existed. Only in dreams, perhaps. Fantasies and comic novels and painted on the canvas of the Michelangelo of erotic artists.

I suspected at once that I looking at my first Level 7. This was not a temporarily amplified man like me. This was a man borne into his body, and his strength, and his power. This was a man destined - ordained, designed, assured - to be the master of all he surveyed.

Need I describe him to you? Can I even try? How does one do justice in words to a man who looked as he did? Perfection, but something even beyond that. Perhaps this was what my companions had described in the anteroom - what the room of Splendor could produce.

There was tension between us, even over the distance, for supremacy. It was an electric charge, and I could feel it building. It was an unbroken band, like a tug of war, linking his state of grace to mine. Was he doing something to fight against my strength? Could he withstand me? Was he, good god, was he more powerful than I?

“Come here,” I instructed.

He grinned, slightly, and dipped his head. “I am not your companion,” he answered.

His voice shook me like a passing train. The words were like blows. My god, this man. My god. “True,” I volunteered, my voice his equal in power and timbre, “and I am not yours.”

The faces were turning from him to me, like the audience at a tennis match. “Why should I obey?” he asked, and it sounded as if his question was tinged with humor.

It was my turn to grin. I had never felt like this before. I had never felt the contest so keenly, and I could feel myself swelling - or bulging - with increasing power, as if my body held reserves it had not tapped, because it had not needed to. “Because I asked nicely.”

His grin increased into a smile. He licked his lips, and I thought I saw the great and pendulous cock that hung so thick and full between his massive thighs visibly throb. “And what if I were to ask nicely?” he asked. “Would you obey?”

I sensed that he was applying more power as well. Pushing back against my own. All the other men in the room remained silent and motionless as the two magnificent gods in the room held their polite debate.

But we were affecting them, too. I could feel it. I could feel my power radiate and swell amongst their number. This was not just between the Level 7 and I. The winner would truly take it all.

The sexual temperature was rising. How was it possible? The place was a sauna of sex. It permeated the air we breathed. It coated the skin like sweat. But we - he and I - were driving the fires hotter.

“No,” I answered. I was thoroughly enjoying this. It was more subtle and more difficult than merely shoving the man around with physical strength. These were not bullying tactics or mere intimidation.

This was a test - a contest - of our strength in a manner I was entirely comfortable combatting.

He raised his chin slightly. His eyes sparked and flickered, as if they held thinly leashed lightning. “We understand each other.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Though something tells me you’re at a disadvantage in this.”

He gazed down upon his own perfection. He held his arms out slightly from his magnificent body. He looked back toward me and said, “I see no disadvantages.”

“You have never been fully challenged before,” I said. “You may lack the tools to win.”

“Win?” he asked. I watched as his aura began to swell outwards, and I could literally feel his power manifest. “Are we battling, then?”

“More tournament than battle, I think. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

He gazed down upon my meat and said, “In that case, I think it is you that lacks the proper tools.”

A cheap shot, but it also showed that I had him pegged. Dick size? Was he really going there? I simply smiled, as a sense of overwhelming confidence came over me. “An artist never blames his tools for lack of talent,” I admonished. “Why are you relying so much on something as inconsequential as that?” I nodded toward his own magnificent cock, which was - let’s be honest - probably the most beautiful and largest specimen I had ever seen.

His smile faltered a bit. “It is easy to dismiss something one is lacking.”

“I suggest a change of tactic, my friend. If there is one thing about me that is not inadequate, it is the target of your jests. This is not some simple cock contest, unless that is the extent - the short extent - of your claim over me.”

His eyebrow rose and his smile was back. “Indeed not. But I thought I would start at the bottom of the list of tools at my disposal. I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“If there is one emotion I am not feeling, it is fear, my friend.” That much was true, and not a boast at all. I was excited, enflamed, and horny as fuck. I wanted that man. I would have him, too, no matter the cost.

“Friend, is it?” he asked. “What makes you think you could be friend to me?”

“As opposed your enemy?”

“As opposed to my servant.” He was manifesting his innate and overwhelming power again. His entire frame lit up with it. I could feel it reaching across the room.

I must admit, he was affecting me. How could he not? I was new in this body, still testing its limits and abilities, still unsure of its extents. How much power did I have? How did it manifest? How did it grow?

Perhaps he sensed my moment of doubt, and he did something that made the men in his immediate vicinity writhe in pleasure. Some even came. They approached him, crawling or writhing or clamoring to be near, ignoring me for the first time, and clung to his muscled legs, and touched his perfect prick in abject worship.

To my eyes, it looked as if his aura swelled to encompass theirs and amplify what they were already feeling. It was what 4 had done to me in my own bedroom, through the bond.

It was a show of superiority, a demonstration of his power over them, and his intentions to overwhelm me as well. He needed no bond. He needed nothing but his own overwhelming power.

It was impressive, to be sure, but to overwhelm these men? That was no challenge. They were never the target. They were unworthy.

I smiled, watching him, and realized that it was a desperate move. A display of something I didn’t need proved to me. Of course he could control them. They wanted to be controlled. That was no test at all.

“I am no one’s servant,” I said. I looked at those around me and bade them come to me.

It was as simple as that. A wish. A desire. I did not sense anything physical happening. I could not see my own aura increase in size or brightness. I merely knew - with supreme confidence - that the men around me were mine.

I was, perhaps, overzealous in my first try. Several of the men were left spent and panting. I had driven them to a sexual breaking point, and caused them to orgasm with such extreme pleasure that they could not withstand it. Maybe these were Level 1s or 2s. Unconditioned, still, and I was not fully in control of the amount of masculine power surging through me, awaiting these desires to display it.

I wondered what I looked like as this happened. It was both a conscious and subconscious desire. I wanted him to see my own surging strength, but I also wanted to become more.

How would normal men react to me, now? How would my friends react? How long would this last?

Those who survived the overwhelming power that was now so easy for me to manifest came towards me and worshiped me. My own companions joined them, unable to resist me. They kissed and stroked and touched me. Their desire to please me was clear, and just as clear was the fact of my superiority over all of them.

It only increased my sense of mastery and command of my new power. It was part of me, now. Part of who I am. Not merely a suit of armor I wore or a cloak I could pull around me.

I was power. I was perfect.

More men came towards me, pulled by my overwhelming masculine aura, worshiping my body, worshiping me.

“A child,” the other man said. “A child testing his strength.” His own aura swelled again, and the room was quickly dividing in its loyalties between he and I. More supplicants came to him, and the passion-red illumination about him grew in strength. His presence among them drove their need and desire, and it was becoming focused solely on him.

I smiled at his pitiful accusation. “A child’s excuse,” I retorted. It was a silly accusation. One look at me and it was perfectly clear I was no child. And there was no way that he could make me feel inferior with that poor attempt. If anything, it increased my confidence, and that manifested in a conspicuous and overt increase in my overall masculine power. Some of the men who had been drawn inexorably to his magnificence were now turning towards me.

I felt myself surge with strength. It made my cock throb and grown incandescent with power, like some god’s lightning rod filled with the purest essence of male dominance.

The men around me moaned in ecstasy. They came, pumping thick loads of hot cream from their swollen balls, splattering themselves and each other in the undeniable concentrate of refined masculine authority. Their cocks surged and pulsed in time to my own. Their beautiful and flawless bodies flexed and swelled, showing off their own muscular development as a reflection of my own. They drew strength from me, and fed me their own in return.

Did he waver? Did his perfect smile dim? “Come to me,” I commanded.

“I will not,” he responded. His body swelled with muscle. It expanded as if he were inflating with it. He flexed everything in a simultaneous display of his raw, physical power, attempting an intimidating tactic as animalistic as nature itself.

Male against male for the crown. Displaying our strength - our authority - to the pride.

My muscles swelled in response. I smiled as my body inflated to full glory - every resting muscle bloating with meat, pushing against my skin, swelling outward in a manifestation of my splendor, my glory, my perfect and overwhelming power.

I was still growing into my full potential, still recognizing the extents of what I had been given, and what this body could do, now.

My body responded immediately to my need. I had ten times the strength of an ordinary man of my size and development. I was bursting with might. I could raise my fist and beat it down and collapse the room beneath our feet. I could halt a freight train in its tracks. I could demolish this building with a series of blows.

There was nothing I could not do. And my muscles swelled with my strength.

My retinue exploded with cum. Like a detonation of male potency, my demonstration of pure power rippled outwards and encompassed the entire room. A hundred perfect men fell sway to my undeniable authority.

And then it struck him. I watched my power overwhelm and subsume his own. He gasped. He faltered. His majestic body and all that he was - all his power and perfection - was mine.

“Come to me,” I said softly.

The room shook with my power. Sexual, sensual, muscular, masculine, an overwhelming sensation of my capacity and dominion surrounded all and brought them at last under my control.

But I wanted only one.

Only him.

He began to move towards me, through the glowing sea of sex and muscle. They parted for his passing, recognizing his own glorious male potency and bowing before its mastery. He was now the Beta Male, second only to my own unsurpassable power. He remained worthy of worship, and they allowed him to come to me because I wished it.

I watched his body’s movements with a rising arousal and sense of need. Never had I seen such a man as that. Never had such a man existed.

Beauty. Muscle. Sex. Every facility turned up to ten, and then amped beyond the normal levels for the male human being.

But I knew I was his master. Whatever had been done to me had allowed me unsurpassed masculine potency. He may have been more beautiful, and larger, and gifted with muscle and cock beyond anything that my simple human body could attain.

But in this moment, in this room, and because of what I had been given - he was mine.

The Level 7 - the ultimate expression of what a man may become - stood at the foot of the small staircase where I was. His cock was magnificent, throbbing with hot need of me, wanting my touch, needing my attention, responding purely to my presence before him.

His body was the consummate and perfect display of male muscular development. As he breathed for me, I watched the muscles on his abdominal wall swell and recede. His skin was ruddy and slick with sex. His eyes gazed upon me with adoration and desire.

He said nothing as he gazed with adoration at my naked body. I was almost relieved that he did not speak. God, that voice. Could normal ears withstand its command? Could normal men gaze upon his perfection and not be blinded? What sensations would his hands on my body create? When his beautiful mouth was wrapped around my cock, how could I not succumb to him? I ached with a physical need to be with him, to feel his flesh, his muscles, his body and all its power surrounding my own.

Once joined, would we survive the explosion of masculine power?

There was only one way to find out.

The pair of us - the Level 7 and I - were causing a fair bit of havoc among the gathered men in the room. Testosterone overload, no doubt, or enough sex pheromones to make the entire collected armed forces of the world start banging each other with something other than guns, for a change. It became quickly apparent that we would need to absent ourselves from the space or the collective balls of all these gentlemen were going to explode from overuse.

I looked down at my companions and said, “You are still instructed to do as you wish. Perhaps my absence will help in that regard.”

“You wish to leave us?” 5 asked. There was a hint of pleading and despair in his tone.

I looked at the Level 7 standing at still attention, awaiting my command, and said, “I think it will be better if he and I had some quality time alone.” I looked at his amazing body again, and added, “A lot of quality time.”

At least, as much as I had left. The evening was quickly progressing, and my contract with 4 and 5 would be at an end. Did it extend also to this god that stood before me? And how much time before my own temporary amplifications wore off and he crushed me like any other bug before his magnificence?

“As you will, sir.”

Gazing at the writhing orgy before us, I didn’t think my companions would be lacking for friendship. I looked at them both, my companions, and sent a wash of love through the bond towards 4. “Share that with him,” I said, indicating 5. 4 nodded understanding and smiled his beatific smile at me. Then I looked at the sea of naked flesh gathered before me, awaiting my merest command. “Uh… carry on,” I said, waving my hand vaguely.

I remounted the short stairway and looked at the Level 7. It was still a bit hard to look directly at him. He stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at me expectantly. “Come here,” I asked.

He stepped forward, and I realized that he was much, much larger than I was. At least two-and-a-half meters in height, well over a meter wide, and possessed of, oh, hell, 225 kilograms of thick, hard, cock-throbbing muscular perfection? Literally, it was difficult for me to gauge the color of his eyes. Maybe it was newly enhanced sight, or maybe his eyes just worked that way. Were they gold? Green? Turquoise? All of the above? His face was a collection of sculpted angles absurdly masculine in countenance and preposterously handsome in appearance. His skin glowed, almost literally, and it coated a collection of muscles so perfectly developed and insanely beautiful that I hoped the man never wore clothing in his life.

I’d mention his cock, but no one would believe me if I even attempted to describe its...its...well, everything. Sometimes you look at a man’s cock and you think, that looks nice, except for one little thing. Or you think, wow, that’s huge, but what’s with the shape. Or something. Then again, maybe that’s just me. Quite the aficionado of cock, I must confess.

But his was...well it was...really, I can’t think of anything to say other than the man owned the perfect cock. The most perfect cock. Even if you don’t like cock, you’d adore this one.

I tried not to stare at it, but that was hard - and I don’t mean that as a pun. It was hard not to stare, even given the ample amount of other amazing physical attributes to stare at about him. He was still erect, and I thought - I knew - it was because of me. I was causing that. My presence here with him, with this man, this perfect, awesome, incredible specimen of man. He was powerfully aroused by me.

I was pretty sure I’d be able to do something with that.

Everyone else was writhing in perfect sexual bliss. I think I was leaking, or my libido was so pumped into overdrive as I studied the Level 7 that they were all realizing the benefits of my amplified male power. So I looked into those ever-changing eyes and said, “I want to be alone with you.” He continued to look at me with adoration. “Hello?” He blinked, and I had a realization that my control over this man was total. “You may speak,” I said.

“Where do you wish to go, sir?” As I feared, the sound of his voice grabbed onto my prick and stroked it good and hard.

I recovered as quickly as I could and said, “This is your home, not mine. I expect there is someplace nearby?”

“Yes, sir. If you would accompany me, please?”

I nodded and he moved past me, back towards the elevator. The sounds and smells of sex faded behind us as the doors closed and we stood alone in the small room.

His head nearly brushed the ceiling of the enclosed space. He said, “Hearth,” and the same quiet rumble and sensation of movement began.

I tried not to look at him, but it was difficult not to. I wondered if the others felt the way about me that I felt about him. Was I also inspiring this level of devotion, of worshipful reverence. It was clear that they were drawn to me and that my effect on them was physical, but did they ache in my absence, and feel such a powerful draw to me as I did to him?

He stood behind me - towered over me, really - and I could feel the heat of his body radiating in the small space. I could smell him, too, and describing the scent would be hard without actually experiencing it. Spicy, definitely sexy, and almost...metallic. Like copper in my mouth, but of a type that was designed to be there, because the effect of it was driving shocks of sex directly down to my 3-ton cock.

The heat was palpable and powerful, and probably not surprising given his size and monstrous collection of brawn. The man was gargantuan, and so large that the two of us were all that the elevator could fit, with my own recent improvements.

He...rubbed...against me, but only for a moment. His front to my back. I could have rested my head into the crevasse between the meaty plates of his chest, but what I think I felt was his hard-on. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Pardon me,” he said. His voice, in that confined space, was almost too powerful. A deep rumble passing through me that rattled my bones and shook my cock.

“I asked what you’re doing,” I repeated, feeling a surge of my Alpha status.

“I want...need to touch you,” he reported.

“You may,” I allowed.

At once, his hands were on my shoulders, gripping the wide bands of power stretching along the mountain range of muscle I owned. His touch was warm, and a bit gentle at first. Perhaps he was still tentative about how far I would allow him to touch me, so I gave him a bit of incentive. “That feels good,” I reported.

His hands moved forward, and I could feel his body pressing against mine fully, now.

I had to close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from screaming in ecstasy. I had never felt anything as sensual as this man’s skin against mine. A current of something palpable, like sex turned into liquid, was flowing across my skin wherever his body came into contact with mine.

His palms moved over the massive muscle that bulged from my two pectoral globes. He grasped the meat and kneaded it, then moved his touch lower and the pads of his middle fingers came to rest on the tips of my nipples.

It was just a touch, but a sudden electric jolt of sex erupted there and traveled instantly towards my groin. My cock quite literally jumped for joy, plumping to a new record-breaking size and spitting a thin stream of pre-cum. I’m sure I gasped from both shock and bliss, and inhaled a cooling breath through my nostrils, but of course the very air that I was breathing was now perfumed with this giant’s male musk, and it only enflamed my lust.

I think he moaned. Some deep murmur emerged from his chest and rumbled against me. He rubbed the ultra-sensitive nubs of my dollar-sized nipples, causing another slim eruption of honey that splattered against me. I wasn’t cumming, but I was quite literally pre-cumming.

The elevator’s soft hum slowed, signaling our arrival. His hands crawled back up my body and his thickly-muscled torso and red-hot poker of a cock withdrew from my flesh as the doors silently parted and we moved out of the small, over-heated compartment and into yet another hallway.

The small sampling of what lay in store for me had driven my libido ape-shit. Those were just his hands, I told myself. Just his hands, and just his fingertips very gently stroking my nipples.

I was in very deep trouble.

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