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Jerry Johnson and the Muscle Factory
And the spokesmodel is
|"Fuck it," Rock said. "We'll be alright."
"Yeah, don't cancel the tour!" Jerry agreed.
"Don't worry," Woody said. "I can take care of my boy here."
"Hey, hey, I ain't fucking any of your workers. Why should I be inconvenienced if these queers can't keep their dicks in their pants?" Wayne protested. "The rules say I won a tour and I want my tour!"
Jerry thought Wayne's insensitivity was repulsive, but he couldn't say he felt too sorry for the two men who deserted the tour. He wasn't sure their fate was punishment.
The tour guide picked up a phone and spoke for a long time with someone. When he hung up he announced that the tour would continue after all.
The next room made the component that increased sexual appetite. The stuff came from bulls and the workers in the room were so horny they were constantly hard. To keep the workers from molesting the men on the tram, the company had installed a thick sheet of transparent, bulletproof plastic between the factory floor and the path the tram took along the edge of the room.
None of the workers wore pants. They couldn't. They were too big and too erect to fit in them. As the tram got closer, Jerry could see that, just as the other workers resembled gorillas, these workers looked a little like bulls. Their noses were broad and flat with flaring nostrils. They had broad sloping foreheads and even horns. On either side of their monstrous erections were gigantic balls that dangled half way to their knees.
The productivity in this section of the factory was abysmal, because the workers were so easily distracted. About half of them were fucking instead of working.
Jerry was hard as steel as he watched them; and so was his godfather, Woody. But the man most affected was Rock. As Bill the tour guide described them, before they even entered the room, just the thought of the sexually super-charged men had been enough to give Rock a boner. Seeing their erect equipment watching them fuck as casual as shaking hands made his heart pound and his palms sweat. His eyes darted to the tour guide.
As the guide explained that luckily not much of this particular compound is needed in the formula, Rock leapt the tram rail, and the bulletproof plastic barrier as well, and landed on the factory floor.
For instant it appeared that his desertion would have no consequence.
The workers were so absorbed in fucking each other they didn't seem to notice him. Then Rock caught one's eye. The worker ambled over, circled and stood behind him. His bull-sized dick pointed between Rock's ass cheeks. He grabbed Rock by the shoulders and forced it through the material of his pants and deep inside his guts. Rock gritted his teeth and shouted in pain. Two of the workers who had been humping nearby heard the noise and walked over. One of them grabbed Rock by the hair and force-fed him his dick. The other one mounted the first worker. In seconds a swarm of workers, lured by the frenzy of sex with new meat, had fallen on them, and Rock was hidden under a pile of humping bodies.
Suddenly Jerry's eyes were drawn from the spectacle to the start of another huddle of humping humanity that was forming to the left of the first. His godfather Woody had leapt the barriers while the sight of Rock's subjugation had absorbed them.
Jerry started to stand up, but Wayne restrained him, and as the tram started moving, in the throes of his transformation into another of the bull-balled sex starved men, he heard Woody shout not to worry, before he completely lost his ability to articulate.
Jerry sobbed openly as the tram left the room. His godfather was his only family, and he had loved him not only as a surrogate father, but also as a lover. When they were a safe distance from the factory floor, Bill stopped the tram again while Jerry recovered his composure. He didn't care about the tour or anything else, so when Wayne insisted they continue, he didn't argue. If he couldn't be with Woody, it didn't matter to him where he was now.
Bill was downhearted in his delivery of his tour spiel, "Our final stop is the area that fabricates chemicals to enlarge male genitals.
Like the last two, this one is derived from animal DNA this time from horses. I want you to brace yourselves, because the side-effect on the workers is particularly unusual."
The tram burst through swinging double doors to reveal a production line "manned" entirely by centaurs or rather men who resembled centaurs. Like centaurs, from the waist up they were men, and from the waist down, they were horses, only with a peculiar twist they had dicks in two places. One was between the front legs of the horse, where a man's would be, and the other between the back legs of the horse, where a horse's would be. Both cocks were enormous.
At the sight of them, the permanent scowl on Wayne's face dropped away. Everything and everyone else in the room ceased to exist. Jerry and the tour guide could see the obsession sweep over his body. It was plain that his homophobia had just been a mask to hide from everyone the intensity of his fascination with dick, perhaps even from himself. But at the sight of so much of it the mask dropped away and his true feelings were revealed.
Both of them grabbed for him. Jerry caught an arm. The tour guide caught a leg. Although either of them could have held any normal man, Wayne's Explode! Transformation had made him bigger and stronger than both of them, because he had been huge to begin with. He tore free and climbed over the railing. He walked over to the workers and bent over, presenting himself to them. One of them mounted him from the rear. Wayne reached for the centaur's front genitalia and sucked it into his mouth. Almost from the minute he was penetrated, equine features began to form on Wayne's body. By the time both the centaur's dicks emptied thick horse cum inside Wayne's mouth and his ass, Wayne was one of them. The centaur who had taken him stood back as Wayne climbed up, uneasily, on his new legs and shook his head. He reached down to his ample front cock, which dangled halfway to the floor, and raised it up by the root. It lolled and flopped in his fingers and he grinned. Now another centaur mounted him from the rear, and Wayne rolled his eyes into his head as both his dicks hardened.
The tram left the room and stopped in an empty room near doors that led to American Anabolix offices. The guide helped Jerry out of the tram and pointed him toward the doors.
"Mr. Wiezer, our founder and president is ready to meet with you now," the tour guide said.
Jerry figured the job as spokesmodel was definitely his, now that he was the only survivor of the tour. Who would have figured the tour would eliminate all the others and leave him as the only choice. Or maybe that is exactly what the company had in mind all along.
A stunningly handsome secretary asked him to be seated outside Mr.
Wiezer's office for a moment. He held his face in his hands and wept.
After a short while the secretary told him Mr. Wiezer was ready. He stood, wiped some of the tears from his face and walked into the office.
Behind a huge mahogany desk, in a room that was almost as big as Jerry's whole house, sat Bill, the man who had taken them on the tour.
"You're Mr. Wiezer?" Jerry asked.
"I apologize for the subterfuge."
"You're responsible for all of this?"
"You mean the things that happened on the tour? I I didn't plan it quite the way it worked out. I thought it would be a good way to observe you all so I could choose the best man to represent our product. I knew some of you might not be strong enough to resist the tremendous temptations and certainly I wanted to avoid picking a spokesmodel who couldn't handle that, but I never dreamed I'd lose so many of you."
"What about my godfather? He wasn't even in the running."
Bill had stepped around the desk to stand closer to Jerry. He laid a broad, muscular hand on Jerry's mountainous traps and squeezed them with firm affection.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am about Woody. American Anabolix will I will do everything I can to make things right. Your godfather will get the finest attention here at the factory. I can't let you see him without supervision, but you can see him whenever you want. And as the spokesmodel for American Anabolix new miracle bodybuilding supplement you'll make more than enough money to support yourself, even while you're finishing your education."
Jerry was distracted from Mr. Wiezer's words, from even the dull ache of his grief over the loss of his godfather, by what he saw through the straining buttons of Mr. Wiezer's dress shirt. The definition visible in the shadows and swirls of black hair made the skin of his crotch thicken and swell. Against his own will his eyes fixated at the man's broad chest and his lips parted. He felt terrible that he was losing sight of his loss, but the pounding of his heart and the pressure of his swollen dick inside his now-snug pants had completely bushwhacked his attention. The tyranny of his heightened sex drive completely subjugated all other thought. Once aroused, there was only mouth, ass, and dick.
Watching Jerry's face succumb to desire made Mr. Wiezer's blood begin to rush, until he could no longer speak or even think in complete sentences. Neither man could be held fully responsible for the impropriety of their feelings. Both of their bodies were charged with the full fruit of Mr. Wiezer's lifelong labors, the formula that expanded the potential of men's bodies and set their thoughts to the astounding sensations such bodies could know.
Jerry let his forefinger wander between the buttons of Mr. Wiezer's dress shirt. He'd wanted to remove it from his chest since the minute he'd seen him before the tour had begun. He tugged lightly and the tightest of the buttons popped free. The forest of chest fur, as thick as the fur on the chests of the gorilla-like workers, was exposed. Jerry pulled the rest of Mr. Wiezer's shirt apart and combed his fingers through it.
With his attention focused on the great mounds of chest muscle under his chin, the sensation of lips on his lips caught Jerry by pleasant surprise. He let his eyes raise to meet Mr. Wiezer's eyes. Their mouths pressed more firmly and their tongues brushed forcefully against each other.
Mr. Wiezer tore the top of Jerry's jeans apart and freed his great, flopping penis, which was already full and firm. With a gentle tug at its root, it became so hard it felt like stone. Mr. Wiezer wanted to enjoy the feel, the heft, the size of it, but he knew there would be more time for that later. He pressed down on Jerry's shoulders.
Jerry knelt, his dick now so hard it curled back on his chest like a door handle. He gently unfastened Mr. Wiezer's dress pants, pulled the zipper apart and tugged them down. Mr. Wiezer's cock slid free.
It was so enormously thick Jerry squirted a bit of jizz just to see it. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, but still must barely accommodated the circumference of its blocky blunt head. It pushed against the roof of his mouth, and slid down toward his tonsils.
Mr. Wiezer's thickly muscled paw steadied Jerry's head as he thrust forward and poked it further in. It widened from the head to the root, and the further it got inside, the wider it opened Jerry's already stretched mouth.
Jerry took a full, deep breath before it reached his esophagus and blocked his passages.
The sweet ecstasy of burying even half his shaft in Jerry's hot, wet mouth twisted Mr. Wiezer's face like he was in agony. He tightened his wide grip on Jerry's head and yanked it forward. His snake-like cock plunged deep into Jerry's throat until most of the rest of it was buried past his lips.
When he released Jerry's head, he yanked back, but then dove back down on Mr. Wiezer's dick enthusiastically, stoned on the feeling of being able to devour that much dick. He sucked from his lungs and vacuumed it down again and again. No one had ever sucked so much of Mr. Wiezer's giant member so well. In just a few minutes, Jerry felt it stiffen, swell and spit cock juice inside his gullet. He pulled back to taste the cum as he jerked the spit-soaked bottom half of it with his hands and milked it dry.
"Jerry!" Mr. Wiezer could hardly stand after Jerry let him loose. "Who taught you how to suck cock like that?"
"It was pure inspiration, sir," Jerry said, as he wiggled out of his jeans and shucked his t-shirt over his head. "Now it's your turn to find inspiration." Jerry laid himself on the floor at Mr. Wiezer's feet, propped up on his elbow, his knees up and his legs wide apart.
His fifteen-inch cock, as thick as a Coke can and stiff as a bone, still curled up and hovered over his cobblestone abs. His free hand reached under his ass and tugged his tight cheeks ever-so-slightly apart, pointing Mr. Wiezer to his preferred source of inspiration.
The sight of the tightly puckered hole between the two immensely muscled mounds of Jerry's ass sent the blood rushing back into Mr.
Wiezer's horse cock. It stretched and sprouted in spurts, at once so fast that it shook sprays of Jerry's saliva from itself. Mr. Wiezer stroked it, lubricating it with the remainder of Jerry's saliva and the remnants of his own jism. With his pants still around his ankles and his dress shirt still on, though open in the front, he dropped to his knees, spread Jerry's legs and inserted his thick thumb up in Jerry's ass. Jerry smiled lasciviously and squirmed. Mr. Wiezer stuck his other thumb inside and pulled Jerry's anal ring apart to make way for his throbbing instrument. As the head slid between his thumbs he tugged them free and fell on Jerry's uplifted legs, bracing his body on them and driving deeper.
Jerry's only other sexual experiences had been with his godfather, Woody, and although Woody was large, he was no where near the size of the morphed man-god whose fence post dick was now burying itself up his ass. It was as though it was his first fuck, filled with all the pulse-pounding, fist clenching, fabric rending feeling of his first.
As Wiezer's cock fought for and held new territory, Jerry tightened his knees around Mr. Wiezer's neck to restrain him, but Mr. Wiezer pushed further until there was no more of him. Then the real action began.
Jerry's ass began to delight in the sweet, sweaty pokes. Braced by Jerry's legs, both Mr. Wiezer's powerful hands were free to massage Jerry's mile long dick. When Jerry came the first time, Mr. Wiezer had to fight to keep Jerry's spasming asshole from sucking the jism out of him without giving up on the pumping that pushed ounce after ounce of juice out of Jerry's sputtering dick. He opened wide and aimed a long hard squirt at the roof of his mouth, licked his lips lasciviously and fed Jerry his own hot cum with a long open mouthed kiss.
Jerry fought for his breath. He never imagined getting fucked could be so intense. As much as he had excited his godfather, Woody, Woody had never fucked him as enthusiastically as the mammoth man pummeling his ass now. Hot steel stroked his insides from his clenching butt hole deep up his abdomen in spots he had never sensed before. Instead of softening after he came, Jerry only got harder. And the ferocity his delight absorbed all his awareness until his mind no longer registered what he saw with his eyes or heard with his ears. All he could sense was the fireplug up his ass, the powerful paws on his huge dick, and the sweat-slick mounds of muscle sliding against him.
A succession of orgasms punctuated the ecstasy like hammer strokes driving a nail home, until his young body birthed the last, grand mal climax and he passed from consciousness.
Each time Jerry came, Mr. Wiezer was sure he would lose himself in the tremulous pleasure that swept along his dick and release the flood of dick juice that pressed at his groin. Yet each time the clenching in Jerry's ass stopped just before he weakened, and he renewed his resolve to exhaust the boy completely before taking his reward. When the lad's last orgasm came, though, Jerry's ass squeezed the base of his dick so tightly he shouted inarticulately, buried himself deeper than he thought possible and emptied his spunk.
A few minutes later the two of them came to on the floor of Mr.
Wiezer's office, foggy-eyed and tingly.
Jerry smiled weakly and said, "You never mentioned that prize in the contest rules."
Mr. Wiezer didn't raise his eyes to see his face. "I should probably apologize, taking advantage of a young man who has shown such restraint for the last several hours."
"If that's how you feel, I hope you need to apologize to me several times a day!"
Mr. Wiezer looked into Jerry's clear, green eyes. His open lips hovered an instant an inch from Jerry's face, then brushed against Jerry's. He hoped he'd be able to keep up with him.
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