I slept soundly after I threw my sock under my mattress. I curled up in my sheets and was out in only a few minutes, my mind calm and clear of thoughts. What a peaceful, uneventful night.
Of course that’s a lie. I didn’t sleep a single second for the rest of that bloody night! Would you if you saw your dick grow right in front of you? Mike’s snoring also made any peaceful rest an impossibility, so I just lay staring at the dark ceiling, replaying the pink flash in my head. What the fuck was it?
The sun rose and the birds outside my window began to sing, and I hadn’t moved an inch. Even soft, my dick felt heavier, and took up more room in my shorts. I dreaded to think of the morning wood.
***
We had breakfast in the kitchen, the events of last night feeling more like a dream in my sleep-deprived daze. I sat beside Mike who was wolfing down some toast. He was still in his offensively red pyjamas and was talking to Stevie, who absent-mindedly washed up his plate. I wasn’t listening to their conversation. My eyes were so heavy as I leant over my bowl of cereal. I had to catch myself from dozing off, and getting a face-full of milk and Cheerios. Carlos was in the shower in the downstairs bathroom, and we could all hear his God-awful singing. I was too tired to even picture his wet, naked body amidst the steam.
The window and sliding glass doors that led to the garden was rattling violently from harsh winds and heavy rain. The weather was shit, like the news claimed only with less swearing. Dark clouds and thunder haunted the skies above the town. Getting to school was going to be a nightmare. I looked out onto the garden, especially the small, metal shed in the corner. Dad and I redecorated it into a sort-of man cave when we first moved in, which meant throwing a cushy armchair in and calling it a day. Something looked off about it, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
I felt a sharp nudge in my arm.
“Hey,” said Mike, “did you hear me?”
No.
“Yes,” I replied in the usual early-morning slurred voice.
“What did I say then?” he asked teasingly.
I couldn’t be arsed to keep up the charade.
“Fine, what did you say?” I asked.
“I had a weird dream last night,” he said.
“Wow,” I slowly stirred my cereal in disinterest.
“Yeah, I was lying in the sleeping bag, tryna get to sleep, when all of a sudden there was a bright pink flash.”
My ears pricked up. A bright pink flash. Just like last night. I was about to ask a follow-up question but Stevie beat me to it.
“That’s strange,” he said, placing the washed bowl by the sink. He had a slightly perturbed look behind his glasses, “I had the exact same dream last night.”
Mike and I just stared back at him, before the two looked towards me.
“Yeah, same here,” I said. Probably best not to tell them about my growing dick. I still wasn’t sure if the two events were related.
“Weird. What do you think it means?” asked Mike.
That was when Carlos entered the kitchen, his frame wearing a black t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. His hair was still wet from the shower as he patted it with a small towel. I watched one drop slide down his neck and under his shirt. He looked like a model fresh from a photoshoot. I hated how smooth his brown skin was all the time, it made my acne breakouts feel like punishments from a higher being. He smiled at us and flashed those piercingly blue eyes in our direction, and I felt my heart flutter.
Jesus, I need a boyfriend.
“Mornin’ fuckers,” he said, shaking his hair with the towel.
“What did you dream about last night?” asked Mike abruptly.
Carlos laughed for a second and then turned incredibly silent when he saw all of our stern and serious expressions. Well, Mike’s and Stevie’s were stern and serious. Mine probably looked deranged as I was clearly gawking at him, infatuated.
“Uhhh, I dunno?” he said, “I never remember my dreams.”
“Damn, could’ve gone 4-for-4,” said Mike, “oh by the way your shirt’s inside-out.”
He was right. Carlos looked down and saw the label sticking out from his hip.
“Oh shit, thanks. That’s weirdly nice of you,” he said.
“Hey, I’m a fucking saint,” said Mike, returning to his toast.
I cannot stress enough that I was not prepared for what happened next. Carlos then proceeded to drop his towel and take his shirt off right in front of us! His entire bare chest was just out in the open!
Now, do I like staring at this man’s gorgeous body? Yes, of course I do, I’m literally a homosexual. His handsome face? I’m a fan. His biceps? Yes please. But this was the first time I was getting a good look at his torso. The best I could usually get was a view from a distance during one of his swimming tournaments, but never up close, and never this close. The man had abs! ABS! An actual six pack in my house, in my kitchen! A six pack that still had specks of shower water on it. And those sweatpants of his were riding real low, and a small, thin trail of hair led from his abs into its waistline, as if it was saying come on Kevin, you know you want it, follow me.
That was when my morning wood finally kicked in, and it was pretty quick. So quick that I was surprised there wasn’t a cartoonish Doing! sound. The added length felt weird as it was pressed against my leg in my shorts. I shifted my chair further under the table to hide it from everyone’s view. The rush of hormones were coming back again; I needed to jerk off again. I didn’t know if I had the energy for another orgasm as strong as last night, but that didn’t stop my eyes from wandering along Carlos’ torso. They eventually made it up to his pecs, when I noticed something odd.
On one pec, just below his collar bone on his left side, was a tattoo. He’s always been against tattoos so seeing one so prominently was jarring. It looked like some runic symbol, and was entirely in pink ink, which stood out from his dark skin. It was the exact same shade of pink as the bright light from last night. Mike noticed too, and he wasn’t currently rock-hard or too tired to ask.
“Hey man, what’s with the tattoo?” he asked Carlos, whose head was caught in the T-shirt.
Carlos reached up to pry the fabric off, flexing his lats. His sweatpants fell a little lower. Follow me. My cock throbbed.
“What tattoo?” he said through his shirt.
Then, a tremendous rumble rung in our ears as the shed was hit by a bolt of pink lightning. It sparked magnificently as pink crackles radiated across the garden and towards the windows. The sheer volume made us all jump where we were, including Carlos, who was still trapped in his shirt as he flailed his arms to untangle from it.
“Holy shit!” yelled Mike, “that was the closest I’ve ever seen a lightning strike! We’re lucky to—OH!”
I almost jumped in my seat as Mike suddenly let out a loud grunt. He leaned forwards in his chair as he looked with wide eyes down at his crotch. I looked too, and was aghast as his cock hardened in seconds, pitching a tent in that eyesore of red fabric. It was my size; 7 inches, and looked just as thick.
“Uhh…” Stevie trailed off.
I looked over to him and saw his crotch begin to squirm. He quickly covered it with his hands and turned away, his face blushing as red as Mike’s tented pyjamas.
“What’s going on?” asked Carlos, who couldn’t see beyond the black fabric of his tangled shirt.
I immediately stared directly at the bulge in his sweatpants. He was too busy to notice it come to life as his cock hardened. It stuck out from his hips and through the sweatpants like a tent pole. It was my length as well, and stretched his trousers until the fabric looked tight. I would’ve blown a load right then and there if I didn’t feel a familiar tingling sensation run along my shaft. Fuck, it’s happening again.
“What the fuck?!” yelled Mike as he sprung from his chair.
He tried to move to another room but froze as we all suddenly let out a long moan. I could feel it again, that same sensation of my cock growing a few inches. It was like an orgasm in itself as it slithered further down my shorts and grew a little bit thicker. It stopped just shy of 10 inches. 10 inches! I’m a fucking pornstar! My body and brain couldn’t handle the situation, as my eyes were fixed on Carlos’ hardon which, just like mine, stretched out a few inches longer. The sweatpants looked even tighter. I could see him trying to cover it up with a hand but it was no use. Seeing him stand there half-naked with his 10-inch hardon sent an almost overpowering urge to my brain. An urge that screamed Whip it out! Lick his chest! Suck him off! A cacophony of lustful commands.
Once our cocks stopped growing, the room suddenly grew very tense. It was obvious our bodies were raging with hormones, and we all shared similar urges, but were also trying to keep our heads. No one spoke for a few moments. The room was only filled with heavy panting and shuffling fabric. We all just froze with our throbbing bulges.
“Fuck, it’s happened again,” I said aloud.
I suddenly felt all eyes on me, even Carlos’ through his shirt. Stevie hadn’t said a word but I could feel his presence a few feet behind me.
“What do you mean ‘again’?” asked Mike with a piercing stare.
Carlos finally untangled from his shirt and put it on the right way around. He quickly grabbed the towel and held it over his crotch, re-adjusting so his dick pointing up instead of out. I could still see the outline of it though, and that is an image I willingly burned into my mind forever.
“What’s going on Kev?” asked Mike again, “do you have something to do with this?”
His tone seemed angry. Shit, they want answers, answers I don’t have.
“Well…”