I walked for three hours without much happening. I mean. Ogling was definitely happening on my part. I tried my best to be subtle as I basically drooled at all the men I walked by, their junk bulging and bouncing almost indecently. Some part of my brain seemed to have already adjusted to this new reality, as it got bored and annoyed of looking at was were, in the end, rather average endowments, as if they were porn-star material. A few times, I thought of simply going back to my apartment, and kick-off a simple porn session to satisfy my size-queen hunger. I decided against, and convinced myself that a stroll was still more exercise than nothing.
Guilt invaded me as I thought of making my extra pounds disappear with a simple strike of pen. This seemed like cheating, where other people work so hard. Plus, it was hard to admit to myself that I didn’t even consider this option before. Almost two full days, it took me, before I thought of changing what I dislike about myself. Or even better: I could just make myself confident instead of body-shaming myself. Most people look average and can still be charming, even darn hot, like Mitchell Davis, from my sociology class last semester. I’m pretty sure a stupid smile appeared on my face as soon as I thought of the guy. By all standards, he is average-looking and perhaps even nondescript, but he still had that little spark of something that made me swoon.
Three hours later, as I said, I came home disappointed from my hands-on exploration. The more I thought back, the more I realized I was a bit naive: what was I expecting to see happening? I didn’t make the world hornier, or myself an Appollo of any kind. I just made the visible dick line a bit more visible. And friendship a bit gayer. As I climbed up the stairs, I walked past my landlord, who nodded politely at me. He seemed to be panting a bit, as he came down from a higher floor. Mr Robinson’s apartment, I guessed. The two had always been quite friendly. It was my understanding that Mr Robinson lived here even before Larry bought the building, and neighbours believe he as favor treatments.
I stopped mid-flight and turned my head to look at Larry. Did he and Mr Robinson just…? A beaming smile appeared on my face as realization dawned upon me. My exploration might’ve been infrastructure, this just here made my day: the bigot got fucked in the ass!
"Is there anything, Gray?"
"No, Larry, I just remembered something."
"Well don’t stare at me like this, then. I thought you wanted something. I’ve got things to do, ya know. And thanks for finally paying me."
"Have a nice day, Larry."
He looked at me puzzled, as I walked the last couple of stairs with a spring in my steps. I unlocked the door and tossed the keys in the little shot glass on the coffee table. I walked to the bedroom to put some underwear on: the weight on my junk was starting to be a bit too unpleasant. Support should do the job. As I stripped down, I noticed something I hadn’t yesterday. Perhaps it was new, perhaps I was too focused on my now thirteen-something-inches-cock. I should really stop enlarging it, before it becomes problematic in a more… logistic way. What I just discovered was a thick ridge of skin at the frontier between my pudgy stomach and my thighs. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I grew an Adonis belt overnight. Without the abs that look so great along. As soon as I put underwear and my pants back on, I went to ask my magical book. It seems like I wasn’t crazy.
"Illiac furrow is strongly developed in male humans, as the strong inguinal ligaments evolved to hold and support men’s large reproductive system in place without conscious nor strenuous effort on their part."
I blinked twice, reaching for my pen. Before I could edit anything, I was interrupted. As I jumped in surprise, wondering what it could be, the text on the page changed. I read it and quickly started writing. Finally, a way to make this day interesting, and perhaps to have a hands-on experience!