The model was aghast as he stood in the dressing room staring at his
17 inch cock. He didn't notice that the door hadn't latched and hung
2" open. That was all Dustin needed. He could see the guy he'd dubbed
Abercrombie's reflected cock through the opening, and he concentrated
on one word - "LONGER."
Abercrombie's eyes widened as his velvety cock slithered over his
fingers with his cockhead plummeting toward the dressing room floor:
20 inches, 25 inches, 30 inches, 33 inches, 34 inches, 35 inches, 3
feet of soft cock. Dustin blinked, and turned away. Perhaps he had
gotten carried away. He turned his attached to a stack of t-shirts on
sale opposite the dressing rooms, and waited for the fun to begin.
Inside the dressing room, Evan hefted the heavy length of flesh
hanging from his crotch. He didn't think of it as his cock any more.
It was more like a fire hose. He chuckled and hefted his "fire hose"
like he had handled the real fire hose in his photo shoot at the fire
station last week. It was all strangely surreal. He half convinced
himself that he was hallucinating from a lack of food and diet pills
after binging on pizza after the fire house photo shoot. He shook his
head. It seemed real enough. He began trying to figure out how it
could happen. It happened to fast for a scientific explanation. Magic?
He shook his head, and glanced at his watch. He rummaged in his
manpurse for his cell phone, but then thought better of calling
anyone. If he did, they either wouldn't believe him and demand he
instant message them a photo - which would inevitably end up on the
internet- or they'd humor him and call the men in the white coats to
pick him up. He needed to go somewhere and think, and maybe talk to -
he panicked. He had to get out of this store. It was the moment that
he entered that his cock had started to grow. Perhaps there was a
curse on the store that did this to all guys or at least all models -
or maybe it was all guys with larger cocks, as Evan had been nicely
endowed.
Evan discovered he had to lower his jeans all the way to his ankles in
order to fit his 3 foot cock inside. He was glad he had a 37 inch
inseam, but regretted that his jeans were so skin tight. It took a lot
of tugging but at last his jeans were buttoned. He looked at his
reflection in the mirror. His eyes started at the nice bulge at his
crotch, but it kept going running down the inside of his thigh where
he had draped it. It was so surreal.
He opened the dressing room door. Dustin was somewhat miffed, because
from his position, he could only see Abercrombie from the waist up.
The hunky model took a deep breath, and stepped out of the dressing
room. The expression of pain and surprise on his face told the whole
story. He froze and looked down. Then painfully slowly, he walked
stiff legged toward the door. Dustin started moving for a better view.
This couldn't be happening Evan told himself. It was something he
hadn't considered. His cock was 3 feet long now - soft. How long would
it be when it got hard? How painful would it be if his cock got hard
trapped inside his jeans pointing straight down. He stared down at his
swollen cock head peering out of his boot cut jeans. Only slightly
hard, his cock had to be 38" long at least. It felt really weird
brushing his exposed foot as he walked in his sandals. He began to
wish he had worn boots. The sandals only had a half inch sole, and the
boots had three inch heels. He was worried what might happen if his
cock grew longer than his leg. His eyes fixed on the door. He
regretted that he had put his cock down his right leg inseam instead
of his left, it had looked roomier, and his right thigh was a quarter
inch narrower than his left thigh. How would he drive his car, if he
couldn't bend his right leg. He'd worry about that later. He marched
solemnly toward the door, while doing simple math problems in his
head. He couldn't afford to get hard.