I sat down on the couch with a beer, eyeing the door with a smirk. The soft cushioning rubbed my balls, my flopping package ready to shoot another load. Opening the book next to me, I took a few sips from my drink, waiting for my newest cockhound to follow me. Each of his step shook the ground, telling me just how slowly he was making his way inside the house. His booming voice echoed from outside. “Fucking hell! Can't believe I got sold fucking non-absorbent shorts again! I'm gonna go back to that store and hit that guy!” The steps got closer as I kept sipping my beer, chuckling at how easy to piss off this idiot was.
After a few minutes of waddling, Jason appeared through the door, a dim smile on his face with my cum still in his beard. Eyes closed, he strongly huffed my seed's smell. “Fuckin' shit, fuck bro,” he groaned out loudly, “yeaaah, that's the stuuuuuff.” Mere seconds later, he was dripping all over the floor, his useless cock pissing precum again. The tattoos on his pecs danced as they bounced up and down. I swear he was high on my cum or something.
“It's that good?” I teased. My toy moaned before opening his eyes, “ye-yeah John... Bro yo-your cum is just so... Tasty... y'know...” I licked my lips as the short colossus' inner slut came out. “How about I give you a taste the other way? Squat for me,” I ordered. Blushing, Jason took a few steps forward to give himself some space. His stance widened as he spread his feet, the room shaking under his weight. He flexed his knees, the bulge in his wet shorts drooping as it lost against gravity. “One,” I counted, moving one on my hands to my monster cock. He struggled to lift himself back up without crushing his package. Damn was he needlessly huge. “Two, and hold it there,” I smiled. “Yeah, oh-okay,” he meekly let out, his shorts dripping precum audibly. Plop. Plop. He'd only just begun working out that veins were popping out under his skin.
I wrote down a question in the book: What does Jason want?
A new section appeared.
---
Jason Gray's desire:
Please East Asian men sexually
---
Was that it? Was he just an Eastaze cum dump? How boring. Maybe I'd written something wrong earlier, who cares. I looked at him, “okay, continue. Up, and three. You've got it, keep counting yourself.” “Ye-yeah, ok- okay,” he said softly as he lifted himself up again. “Four.” I went back to the book and started writing. “Five.” The guy was around my age, looked like a classmate, shorter and way wider. “Six.” My brain tingled as my memories of before and after mixed together. “Seven.” He was a weak-ass shortie beforehand, but I'd made him stronger with the book. “Eight.” He used to be a random kid, but now he was a gym buddy I could empty myself in. “Nine.” I took my pen off the book, licking my lips as I looked at Jason.
---
Jason Gray's desire:
Please East Asian men sexually, especially John Lee
Become more muscular no matter what
---
“Three.” Memories flooded in. Thanks to my bud Dave, who I had a foggy memory of being some twerp named David, I met Jason when we were teens. Our dads brought us to the same gyms, to their competitions, and the four of us, Mark included, hung out at Dave's place afterwards. His stupid friend from elementary would be there sometimes: Jason. He'd seen our dads' competitions and wanted to be just as big, if not bigger when he grew up. “Four.” We fooled around a lot over the years, which is probably how he got into Eastaze cum to begin with. He hired me as his personal trainer at some point, where I made sure to give him the most addicting and potent supplements to help him grow. I was drunk one day and told him Eastaze cum was even better than steroids. I fucked him; hours later he'd gotten his chest inked for me. Remembering about that huge dump truck of a muscle ass around my meat got me hard. ”Five.”
Fuck had he changed just with just those words. Just a few years of steroid abuse had given him wrinkles, he looked twice my age. The top of his head was completely void of hair, the testosterone coursing through his veins turning it into the perfect shiny handle to use when facefucking him. The wide traps holding his head up had nearly swallowed his bull neck, restricting him whenever he wanted to look left or right. His beard reached halfway over his muscle tits, which were covered in stretched tattoos about how much he wanted to get filled. “Six.” Memories of trying Ba's experimental 'roids on him flooded in, leaving his pecs with fat, juicy 3 inches wide nipples, nearly as sensitive as his useless knob. Despite the size of his musclegut, 8 thick bricks covered his stomach, begging to be coated in cum. “Seven.” On his pubes forest of a crotch was the colossal root of his girthy, vein-covered firehose of a cock, surrounded by a thick gold cockring, engraved with my initials. The same steroids that gave him those suckable nips had stretched what used to be a puny dick into an unwieldy 21 inches-long, precum leaking uncut pole. Veins criss-crossed all over, re-routing most of his blood to his favourite head, but never enough to get more than a few inches of the monster cock semi-hard. Reaching his calf, the floppy pipe was pushed forward by his melon-sized balls, factories of precum, cum and testosterone, turning him into a permanently horny, angry mess of a moron. He'd hit on every guy he found barely passable, and was only stopped from getting into fights due to his own bulk. “Eight.”
His balls reached his knees, making him waddle around so slowly that expecting him to be on time anywhere was simply impossible. He'd stopped going to school around the time his balls got to the size of grapefruits, and attending remotely was simply impossible; he couldn't use a computer with how thick his fingers were. Back then, I offered Jason to move in with me, as he was getting evicted from student housing. Ba'd bought Mark and me each a house and a car, thanks to all his sponsorships and shady supplements deals, supplements he gladly trialed on my behemoth of a husband. I knew Jason loved me; he'd do whatever I said. “Nine.” Seeing him struggle was always such a turn on. I looked at him, his floppy cock dripping, his entire body sweating just from those few squats. I jerked my own cock, twisting my nipple before groaning, “aight slut, that's good enough.”