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(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are again -- fifteen years later and I’m kicking out some sequel. Weirdly, I’ve had a Parasite story brewing in my head for years, but this Bizarro story found its way out instead. Not a long one, I promise -- five parts. I just enjoy playing with these characters. (Previously, in THE NEW SUPERMEN: Superman has left Earth, seeking his destiny among the stars. To protect the planet -- and the American Way -- Superman has selected 100 of the nation’s best police officers to take his place. Imbibing them with a serum to give them Kryptonian powers, plus a massive dose of solar radiation, these men transformed into hypermasculine superheroes. These “Super-Cops” were just adjusting to their new, super-powered bodies [and their inability to have sex with normal humans], when set upon by a plot to trap them through that very sexual weakness by Lex Luthor. Though nearly succumbing to Luthor’s manipulations, the Super-Cops ultimately foiled his plan. Now, nearly a year later, there is a feeling of normalcy and routine, even if the New Supermen had to make some sexual compromises.) Pt1 REMOTE UTAH The helicopter had been flying for an hour without seeing even the slightest hint of civilization. These remote locations had their advantages in terms of regulations and governmental oversight, but they were a gigantic pain in the ass to travel to. Finally, just as the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the mountains, the destination came in sight -- the LexCorp symbol obvious on the helipad. That Lex Luthor himself was here only indicated how close they were to success. He and his bodyguard were greeted at the helipad by the Chief Scientist, Dr. Teng, the windrush of the slowing heli-blades blowing his white lab jacket up like Marilyn Monroe on a subway grating. “Greetings, Mr. Luthor,” he shouted over the din. “We are honored to have you here -- we have shown much success in cloning…” “Yes, I know,” Luthor said bluntly, walking past the doctor toward the facility. “Take me to him.” The three entered the facility and immediately turned to a series of elevators. Had Teng not been the one with the ID card to summon the elevator, it would almost appear as if Luthor had no use for him at all. They plunged underground, deep enough that they felt their ears pop from the pressure change. Teng spent much of the time trying not to stare at Luthor’s beautiful female bodyguard, Mercy -- she spent much of the time trying to resist the urge to kick him in the balls. Finally, they arrived in the Sub-Basement Labs, easily a mile below the surface, the elevator sliding open silently. Teng motioned, “This way,” though Luthor already knew where he was going. There, in the center of the main lab, surrounded by cables and monitors and unidentifiable machines, was what could only be described as a huge glass tube, large enough to hold the overly-muscular male that floated inside it. “As you can see, Mr. Luthor, the clone is nearly ready.” The clone wore a breathing apparatus, so its face wasn’t clear, but the body more than gave away its genesis -- it was clearly a clone of Superman, the original Man of Steel -- regardless of the tight S-shield compression shirt and red speedo it wore. “And the triggers are in place?” Luthor asked, examining it. “The commands? Will it obey me?” Dr. Teng placed his hand almost affectionately on the tube. “Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Luthor. The mental programming has been put in place. There is no reason to believe this clone won’t be completely under your control -- your own personal Superman. Now… to be fair… we haven’t run any tests since the… uh… virus was introduced…” Luthor looked at him quizzically. “Why would that make any difference?” Teng looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s an unexpected variable. As you can see, since it was introduced, the clone’s testicles have swollen to at least five times their normal size. We had to create special trunks that would fit them…” Mercy rolled her eyes at Teng’s awkwardness -- men put so much unnecessary importance on their genitals. Bigger balls meant a bigger target to kick as far as Mercy was concerned. “It’s fine, Teng,” Luthor said, glancing casually at the clone’s big gonads. “It’s all part of the virus.” “This is the most success we’ve ever had cloning Kryptonian DNA, sir. It seems a little far-reaching to unnecessarily add…” “Are you questioning me, Teng?” Luthor asked calmly -- Mercy seemed to stand even more at alert. “No, Sir!” Teng said a little too quickly. He knew what happened to people who fell on the bad side of Lex Luthor. “I simply counsel caution. We’re not even certain about the stability of the cloning process, much less…” “It’ll be fine,” Luthor said. “Even if he only kills one of them, it’ll have been worth the money. Release him.” “But, Sir, he’s only at fifty-percent -- he hasn’t been exposed to sufficient sunlight…” “RELEASE HIM!” Nervously, Dr. Teng went to the console. Before pressing the button, he shut his eyes and said a silent prayer -- even Luthor couldn’t control his thoughts -- all he could do now was hope for the best. He pressed the release button. As they watched the fluid drain from the tube, Luthor mumbled, “FInally -- a superman of my own…” He knew it was only a matter of time before they could clone a super-body to transfer Luthor’s MIND into -- then he’d personally settle the score. One step at a time. The tube raised, taking the breathing apparatus away with it, leaving the clone standing, semi-dazed as it came to consciousness, dressed only in the tiny, tight Superman shirt and stuffed red speedos. The clone looked pale, having never been exposed to sunlight -- it resembled an albino bodybuilder. It stood uncertainly on its feet, absorbing its surroundings, then looked down and noticed itself. It ran its hands over its muscular torso, flexing its biceps and smiling at their size. The process of self-discovery gave the clone an erection. “Horny,” it mumbled… and began to clumsily masturbate. Luthor moved to take control, standing before the clone with his arm held out before him in a “stop” motion -- easily a foot shorter than the behemoth, Luthor barely came to its pecs. “I am Lex Luthor,” he stated firmly. “Your creator. You will obey me!” The clone looked at Luthor with a semblance of recognition, smiling slightly, but making no move to stop playing with itself. “What’s wrong with it?” Luthor asked Teng. “Why isn’t it listening to me?” “It could be any number of things,” Teng said hastily, carefully walking toward Luthor but making sure to face the clone. “It could be the Kryptonian gene-stock -- it could be the virus you introduced…” “Horny…” “There’s so much we don’t know about Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the clone cried -- and shot a load that nearly hit Luthor and Teng. The clone’s orgasm lasted nearly half-a-minute, going on and on. And the longer it lasted, the more the clone’s moans turned to giggles -- it was as if his intelligence, not his ejaculate, that was cumming out of his oversized balls. “Oh my dear Lord!” whispered Teng, stepping back. “What is happening? All I did was mention Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the cloned cried. “ME WANT SUPERMAN! ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN!” “What…?” “Yes!” Luthor said, stepping toward the clone. “Superman. You fuck Superman!” “Mr. Luthor!” “Mercy, shut him up.” Before Teng could speak another word of protest, Mercy kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over -- she would’ve preferred her target to be his balls, but whatever. Teng collapsed, moaning quietly -- scientists rarely put up a fight -- curled up on the floor. Luthor remained focused on the clone. “You find Superman,” he said. “You fuck Superman.” “ME FUCK SUPERMAN!” “Yes!” “SOOO HORNY…” “So fuck Superman... stupid.” “YES! FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” Suddenly, the clone bucked his hips, orgasming again -- the front of his speedo soaking in his cum, dripping to his feet. His laughter was the giggle of a child. “FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID,” he laughed. “YES… ME MAKE SUPERMAN HORNY AND STUPID!” “Okay,” Luthor smiled. “Sure. Go and fuck Superman stupid.” “ME GO! ME GO FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” They stood there staring at each other, the clone with an empty grin as he gently stroked himself. “Go NOW…” Luthor said, nearly exasperated. “YES!” the clone said, as if having the idea was brilliant. “ME GO NOW!” And with that, the clone looked around and, seeing only the elevator, bound toward it with a speed that belied his size. Before Luthor could react, the clone ripped the elevator doors open with his super-strength and then began ascending the shaft by lifting himself hand-over-hand up the cable. They stood there in the silence of the lab for nearly a minute, listening to the clone work his way up the mile-long shaft -- he clearly hadn’t realized he could fly (or perhaps he hadn’t been powered up enough) -- then, from very high above them, they heard the groan of creaking metal, a loud, childish laugh, and then the wreck of the elevator car crashed into the opening. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile,” said Luthor, wryly. None of them laughed. NEXT PART
PHOLUS REBORN by absman420 When I got the call that my Grandfather had passed, I had an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. I’d just seen him a few weeks ago, when he’d turned 92, still as spry and troublesome as ever. He’d been a landscaper and gardener since coming to America in his youth -- he claimed it a tie to the old country, the old ways. He knew plants and he knew how to love them -- his garden lush and inviting, alive and ready-to-burst, even up to the end, when HIS heart had burst. (I’d inherited that from him -- not the bad heart, the green thumb -- though I only grew marijuana in the basement of my house.) They’d found him in the garden, dead. It was the Executive Manager of the Home who felt the need to inform me -- but still with his disapproving attitude -- that my Grandfather had been masturbating when he’d died. “And in the garden, of all places!” he’d said with mock indignity. I shrugged -- what should my reaction have been? It was the Home’s Resident Mortician who’d pulled me aside and informed me quietly that my Grandfather had been “remarkably blessed” with “prodigious equipment” and that the erection he’d had when he’d died hadn’t gone down. (Sadly, I’d not inherited that from him -- mine was more pint-sized than prodigious.) It was no secret that my Grandfather was the bane of the old folk’s home -- the sexually-forward, inappropriate old man who wouldn’t leave the ladies alone. Or the nurses. Or the staff. Although they had a soft spot in their hearts for him -- everything else was about his hard spot, the one he was constantly playing with. All in all, they were not sorry to see him go. While in his room, gathering his few personal effects -- the things worth anything -- another old man came in, one of his fellow gardeners, and presented me with a towel-wrapped object, saying, “Big Red wanted you to have this.” I’d never felt like I’d connected with my Grandfather -- “Big Red” -- we both shared the red hair, but that was all. I’d always assumed it was because I was gay -- his generation had their old-school outlooks -- and he believed in big, hearty masculine expressions. Potency with him, above all -- fertility. His garden had been a reflection of that. But he wanted me to have something! See? He’d thought of me! Even in death, there’s hope! Rolling back the towel, I was surprised to discover a clay garden gnome, about ten/ twelve inches long -- but at least not the cheap, Disney-fied version with the goofy red hat and cheeky smile. (That would’ve probably made me leave it behind.) This was significantly older, a hand-painted terracotta statuette of a disheveled old man dressed in rags with a lusty half-smile on his face -- the only other noticeable detail about the sculpt was that the gnome had an obvious bulge. (Like the kind you don’t see that on the modern-day Wal-Mart gnomes!) “He wanted me to have this?” I ask the other old guy, trying not to sound ungrateful, like I wasn’t suspicious of a joke. “A garden gnome?” “Gnomes are powerful symbols of fertility,” the old guy said -- just my luck, my Grandfather was pals with a professor — then he added, “Look it up. You’ve got The Google” and I felt a lot better about my Grandfather’s associates. “It’s been in the garden long as I can remember. Your Grandpappy said he’d had it his whole life!” I took the Gnome -- “Thank you,” I said. “I have the perfect place for it.” -- (Ironically, I did!) -- and after I’d gotten all the business and paperwork and payments at the Home complete -- my Grandfather safely in a box being shipped to the family site -- I headed back to my house, a few hours away, the Gnome resting in a box in the back seat. I DID have the perfect place for it -- my little basement grow. I put it down at the head of a row of a hybrid I was developing -- I aimed its little bulge at the marijuana plants. “Let ‘er rip,” I laughed. “Show me the fertility!” And for the next year, it did just that -- my yield increasing by over 65% -- until I carelessly knocked the little Gnome off the shelf and broke it. And that’s where the story really starts. **************************************** According to “The Google”: Act surprised, the Ancient Greeks had a God for it -- a God of Fertility: Priapus. Apparently his power was manifested in his oversized genitals -- but with the Christian invasion (and forbidden sexuality that accompanied that religion), Priapus and his cock became a demon, or represented as a withered old man with an uncontrollable erection, often pushing his giant cock before himself on a cart. Religion made genitals and their symbology a punishment, a curse -- act surprised. So… Gnomes. Little old men with massive genitals -- a European ode to the Ancients. Little clay gods of fertility for your garden -- Priapus through the ages. (They didn’t become “cutesy” until the release of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” at the beginning of the 20th century -- Priapus becomes Dopey.) I find stuff like that fascinating. ******************************************** Ultimately, it didn’t matter because the Gnome was just a delivery device. I mean, literally. Just as I was about to buy into the idea that a fertility icon in your garden increases yield, I go and knock the fucking thing off the shelf while tranferring a tray of younglings. Fucking stoner thing to do, honestly. I mean, I tried to “catch” it with my foot -- or at least soften the impact. All I managed to do was scratch myself as it bounced off my sandal -- don’t laugh! It drew blood -- and then shattered on the cement, missing the floor mat because of my interference. Fucking idiot. And I was hoping, you know, maybe some glue? But doesn’t destroying it wreck the mojo? Doesn’t breaking it stop the voodoo that it do so well? Isn’t that the folklore? Immediately I thought of my Grandfather -- now a year in his grave -- he managed to get through his whole life without breaking it! Maybe some glue….? Idiot. So I knelt down next to it and gingerly lifted it up -- the front wasn’t cracked, but collapsed from age, barely more than dust -- glue wasn’t going to help. Fuck. And then the discovery. Something inside the hollowed-out middle, wrapped in what seemed to be very old cheesecloth -- very, very old, like great-grandma’s linen that never came out of the box, faded and brittle and delicate beyond possibility -- someone had planted something INSIDE the Ancient Gnome. Eagerly -- nervously -- I carried the whole mess to my work-table and clicked on the bright, overhead light. I was more afraid of ruining whatever was inside -- especially if it was some sort of message or something. (This was why I wasn’t an archeologist -- it couldn’t possibly be this romantic in real life!) Should I be wearing gloves? I had to break the Gnome a little further to get the package to come out freely. I was a nervous wreck, suppositioning all over the place -- had my Grandfather known about this? Was it my Grandfather who’d planted it? Was this why he wanted me to have the Gnome in the first place? What could it possibly be? The rag or cheesecloth or whatever the hell it was that wrapped it nearly dissolved away, turning to dirty dust even as I tugged on it. Pieces of it came off intact, but it was nothing more than wrapping, no message or clues. Just old -- insanely old -- hundreds of years old. If my Grandfather had known about this, he hadn’t changed anything -- he hadn’t wrapped it in anything new. It was two objects wrapped together. One was an icon, about four inches long, a crude stone carving of an overly muscular man with an enormous phallus -- his dick went practically to his chest -- his eyes dark jewels. The other was a tiny, dark bottle, like a perfume bottle, dark glass, deep blue, a small stopper with a wax seal. Holding it to the light, I couldn’t see through the thick glass, but I could feel it’s age. I spent a few seconds cleaning the bottle, dusting it off and wiping it down gently. Even if there was nothing inside it, the bottle itself was spectacular -- I’d never seen anything like it. I picked up the statue and did the same, wiped it down, cleaned it up, blew off the dust. I was looking in his jeweled eyes when -- I swear -- they lit up, bright red. Not just “caught the light”, not just “sparkled”, they LIT UP and -- I’m not kidding. I’m not making this up -- I had a vision. I heard it speak to me. It said, “PHOLUS” I dropped the little muscular stone like a scorpion -- like a venomous fang. I looked at it in horror as it balanced on its side by its big penis, staring helplessly at the table. What in the name of God? “Name of God!” That’s IT! I pulled out my phone. ********************************************** From The Google: In Greek mythology, Pholus (Greek: Φόλος) was a wise centaur who lived in a cave on or near Mount Pelion. Are you kidding? Pholus is really a thing? A centaur? Weren’t they half-horse? Well, I guess that little statue there is partially-horse, at least. But there was something else. In astronomical terms, Pholus (from Φόλος) is an eccentric centaur (an object classified somewhere between an asteroid and a minor planet) in the outer Solar System, approximately 180 kilometers (110 miles) in diameter, that crosses the orbit of both Saturn and Neptune. It was discovered on 9 January 1992… Wait. What? -- I was born on 9 January, 1992. Pholus and I were twins… which wasn’t funny. It was getting weird. Nicknamed “Big Red,” it’s orbit around the sun takes 92 years and one month… 92 years and one month… my Grandfather -- Big Red’s exact age when he died! Okay, I was fucking freaking out by this time! Too many coincidences. A centaur -- an eccentric centaur -- my birthday -- my grandfather’s orbit -- but that still wasn’t everything. There was one more. When Pholus (from Φόλος) appears in an astrological reading, it represents a spark, a start, grand events set in motion from something small, like shooting oneself in one’s foot, the butterfly effect. When Pholus appears, an unexpected adventure follows. Fuck you, the Google. ****************************************** I leaned against the wall and stared at the work-table for a while, at the askew little icon and the blue-glass bottle. I sat on a stool, smoked a joint, and stared at the stone man, released from his prison, forever erect. How did he talk to me? How had that happened? I’d never heard of “Pholus” before -- I couldn’t have made that up. And even if I had -- there were too many coincidences… there were three different versions of “Pholus” and all of them applied to me! I couldn’t have known about that and “forgotten” -- I didn’t smoke that much weed. No. I’d had a vision -- the icon had spoken to me. Assuming that to be true, I thought, I shouldn’t fear it. If this icon was meant for me -- and it seemed like that was the only conclusion -- then I had no reason for fear. One shouldn’t fear destiny, especially when one knows what it is. Sadly, by the time I worked up enough brave-energy to touch the icon again, nothing happened -- it was just a piece of cold stone. No more flare -- no more sparkle -- no more insight. The little stone dude had a pretty amazing cock… and he seemed so proud… but he’d stopped talking. So, the bottle then. What could it possibly be? Perfume? Wine? Magic Potion? Poison? I mean, it’s ridiculous. I should have it analyzed -- I should find out what it is -- I should know before I unleash some disease, some demon, some genie in a bottle. Maybe ingesting whatever was inside would transform me into a centaur -- well, being gay, maybe a unicorn? I couldn’t see through the deep blue glass, so I didn’t even know if anything was inside at all. I was so busy playing mind-games with myself that I hadn’t realized how much time had passed, even. Sigh. Another joint. Anyway, when I finally got around to opening the stupid thing, it was nearly midnight. The stopper, which was also glass, was sealed with what appeared to be a thick wax. I used a tiny screwdriver to flake it off. It took a little back-and-forth to completely break the seal, but once I did, the little stopper eased out quickly. The Scent. The Scent alone. My cock was rock hard immediately, just on the scent alone -- sex and leather and sweat and metal, the smells of masculinity, from the playful snips and snails and puppy-dog tails of youth to the moment of adult dominance, to the rut of the thrust, the spreading of the seed, it was fertility, the deep, moist earth. It was the Essence of Man. I was compelled to taste it -- I didn’t think twice about it -- it wasn’t until long after the moment that I thought there may have been danger. In the moment, there wasn’t any thought at all, just need -- driving masculine need. Whatever was in that bottle I needed in me. A drop was all -- and barely enough to qualify for the word “drop” -- it rolled lazily out of the bottle like a thick, congealed syrup -- but when it hit my tongue… Orgasm! Immediately, my cock shot -- overwhelming! Like this huge, savage, I’ve-never-felt-it-like-this-before orgasm! Like, so incredibly all-encompassing that every cell of my body was my cock and they were all shooting at once. And then I was able to taste this syrup as it spread across my tongue -- battle and strength and muscle and sweaty maleness mixed with earth and flavored with fire, the taste of heroes and prowess and sweet, hard-won victory. Horse flanks, battle songs and flasks of wine, wrestling for sport and the tight, sweet holes of olive-skinned apprentices -- it was everything dark and earthy, meat and marrow, savagery and strength. It was gloriously masculine. And the aftertaste was dirty, and sexual, and rutted, the nasty, shit-flecked maw of the satisfied fornicator -- the flavor of lust. I was oh, so horny -- I needed to fuck, cock-driven, unapologetic, just lay-in and pound kind of fuck. Not love-making, no gentleness -- playfulness, yes; powerful, definitely -- fucking male on MALE sex! Then came the mental run-down of my fuck-buddy list, too few and too far between, the usual Grindr stall, the seedy bar -- any option. All options. Need to fuck. It was a stranger whose name I sort of remember -- I didn’t care -- all that mattered was the hole. By that time, crazy, stupid needy lust. My little cock was flared and strong, flexing beyond its norm -- serve it, suck it, take it, fuck it. Pholus started the adventure! ************************************************** I woke the next morning in a stranger’s bed, crusty and sweaty, the smell of sex on my breath -- glorious! My cock immediately hardened. He slept on his side, my unknown partner, his back to me, a little blond thing -- his hole was red, swollen, smeared with my dried cum and his ass juices. It smelled glorious -- earthy, sexy -- raw. It was impossible to resist, so I didn’t, licking his hole, loving the taste, digging in and eating. Gripping around his balls, I felt his cock harden with his morning’s piss. Fuck, I wanted that, too. All of it. He woke moaning. “Ohhh, man… stop. I can’t… I’m sore and I gotta pee…” “You taste so fuckin’ good,” I mumbled, slurping his hole. “Lemme just eat it awhile…” “That’s gross,” he said, pulling himself away. “I’m gonna pee -- you should be gone when I get done.” I was laying there with this big hard-on -- I showed it to him. “Aw, c’mon, baby, you can’t leave me like this…” “You got a nice dick,” he said, pulling himself out of bed, “and you sure know how to use it. You fucked me every which way sideways last night and I’m sore as hell right now. But you should be gone when I get done.” “Aw, fuck,” I said, with this impossible hard-on, and these blue-ass balls. Cold little bitch. Where the fuck were my shoes? ******************************************** The Uber driver could smell me -- I could tell. And I know it made him uncomfortable -- he shifted himself in his seat several times. After a while, I realized it was because he had a hard-on, too. That was fucking hot. Cocks were fucking hot. With my fingers, I squeezed mine through the material of my pants while we drove. I knew he saw me -- I didn’t care. It felt too good. Everything felt good. In the shower, I noticed it more in my balls than in my cock -- the growth, I mean -- but also from the undeniable rush of testosterone. The way it felt. I was a man -- all man. I felt like a man -- and I fucking loved it! I gave very little thought to the idea that whatever was in that bottle had adversely affected me -- just the opposite. Whatever was in that bottle had changed me for the better! Somehow, it had awakened something in me -- it had connected me to something greater than myself -- MY masculine essence. I shot off a load in the shower, praising Priapus and Pholus (and Phallus, too!) -- I could phuck them all! Who could deny the power of the cock? Who wouldn’t want this? ********************************************** From “The Google”: Priapism is a condition in which a penis remains erect for hours in the absence of stimulation or after stimulation has ended. Most cases are ischemic. Ischemic priapism is generally painful while nonischemic priapism is not. In ischemic priapism, most of the penis is hard. In nonischemic priapism, the entire penis is only somewhat hard. Aw, fuck man -- that was me in one bold sentence -- nonischemic priapism. My dick hadn’t been flaccid in over two weeks. The only reason it didn’t concern me was because it didn’t hurt -- so why shouldn’t it show itself off? It was a damn nice cock -- it was just putting itself out there. As a matter of fact, it was kind of hot Fucking EVERYTHING was kind of hot! That my sex drive was stuck in high gear was kind of hot -- finding out I have nonischemic priapism was kind of hot. But hottest of all? My dick was getting bigger. My dick, my balls -- bigger. It didn’t help that my cock was semi-hard all the time, it just kept me from noticing it right away. But in the last two weeks, my hard cock had shot up to eight inches! And not in Grindr inches, either -- ACTUAL measurement! And my testosterone production was up, too, like a thousand percent, thanks to my growing balls, over-producing to make up for their past. My workouts had been fucking crazy -- they would just go on and on and I’d never lose energy -- two, three hours. The harder I trained, the hornier I felt, my big cock jutting out before me, struggling against the compression-anything I wore. I swear, I was shooing the guys off like flies -- I think my smell attracted them. I think my sweat was becoming some kind of pheromone or something. I was fucking them in the steam room, the shower, one guy in the janitor’s closet -- I was a fucking beast! A beast with big, low-hanging balls. I thought about going to the doctor, but then I thought, why? What’s WRONG with me? For the first time in my life, it felt like everything was right! I was getting muscular -- not huge, not like one of those muscle-heads -- but BIG, you know? Commanding. Six months after I’d been blessed by the gods, I weighed a solid 235, carrying almost no body-fat. I learned (from The Google) that testosterone was a natural leaning agent, one of the reasons teenage boys (at the peak of testosterone production) looked the way they did -- the more I produced, the leaner I got. So, at 235, I looked fucking awesome, even bigger than I really was! I started getting hairier, too. At first, a thicker pelt on the chest, a scruffier beard -- sexy -- but then my shoulders, my back -- I began having to trim back my bush or it would’ve taken over. I became the King of Manscaping. I ended up with a rough beard -- I gave in on that, otherwise I was shaving two or three times a day. But apparently, the boys liked the way it felt on their holes, so I didn’t sweat it. The hair grew thicker in the grooves of my abs, emphasizing them even more. I was so… fucking… manly! By then my cock was nearly 11 inches long in its constant semi-erect state, displaying itself proudly before me. People REACTED to it -- no matter how I tried to hide it at first, once someone saw it, they couldn’t stop looking. (I do believe it’s hypnotic -- but that’s a point for later.) And to be honest, I loved the attention. I thought I would’ve been freaked or embarrassed by having such an obvious member, but it was the opposite -- the bigger it got, the greater my pride and eagerness to show it off. ********************************************* From “The Google”: Erect penises have appeared in erotic (sexually exciting) art for a very long time. Pictures of men with erections appear on ancient objects and in paintings. In the past, the erect penis was also a symbol or sign of health and fertility (the ability to give life). Ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans believed in gods that had erect penises. Men with larger penises are often thought to be more handsome, manly and powerful. I became a Brand. There was little else I could do, actually. I mean, why WASN’T I in porn? Why wasn’t I sharing my blessing with everyone? I created the “Pholus” Brand -- and I adopted my Grandfather’s nickname, “Big Red” -- Big Red Pholus, that was who I became. My OnlyFans page… I swear, I put up a video of me commando beneath a pair of loose gym shorts, jumping rope in slow motion, and within two days… money was no longer an issue in my life. I set a record for followers within a week and became an “Influencer” on IG so fast I had to look it up on The Google to find out what an Influencer was. Clothing designers -- I had a guy specifically for underwear and jockstraps -- assistants, an entourage, the works! And this was the weird thing: the worship… empowered me. I mean, it… it made me… more than I was. As I did cam shows and live shows and as my audience grew, I grew, too. Not just muscularly (where I was steadily improving), or scrotally (where I was pushing boundaries), I mean spiritually. Can you imagine what it does to your psyche to have guys pay you obscene amounts of money just to touch your cock? To have them beg you to suck it? To love it the way you do? I accepted it -- I welcomed it. I had been blessed by the gods -- I was something more-than-man. A demi-god -- a demi with a semi. A demi-semi-god! I had a destiny. Sex was easy, constant -- I was either seducing or fucking. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, it was a prelude to sex. I couldn’t have enough -- there was never a moment when I was satisfied, when I wasn’t eager for more. And men fell under my spell -- whether it was my smell, or my aura, or the obvious swell of my cock -- they all gave it up for me, they all became my bottom. There was nothing I enjoyed more than finding the Big Alpha straight-guy at a strange gym and watching him turn into a weak-willed bitch when he’d ultimately yield to my superior cock. The look on his face when he’d first see it beneath my gym clothes, or more regularly, my compression pants -- shock and awe -- the way he’d try to befriend me, like we could be the cocks-of-the-walk together, buddies -- and finally him on his knees in the locker room, in the posing room, wherever, pounding his own cock while he gave in and worshipped mine. It was the way of men to worship gods. And all men worshipped the god of the phallus -- and now Pholus, who seemed the god made flesh. **************************************** More from “The Google”: In Greek mythology, a satyr (Greek: σάτυρος sátyros, pronounced [sátyros]), also known as a silenos (Greek: σειληνός seilēnós), is a male nature spirit with ears and a tail resembling those of a horse, as well as a permanent, exaggerated erection. Early artistic representations sometimes include horse-like legs, but, by the sixth century BC, they were more often represented with human legs. Like satyrs, centaurs were notorious for being wild, lusty, overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, violent when intoxicated, and generally uncultured delinquents. I gained the ability to make others like myself. It began to happen late in the second or third year since my blessing from the gods, my rebirth. My cock was over a foot long by that point, meaty and thick, my pendulous nads nearly the size of oranges -- even at 6’4” 245, they were out of proportion (I didn’t look anywhere near as freakish as I would’ve if I’d remained 5’9”, but I’d grown steadily since my blessing, so I looked like a really big guy with a REALLY big cock. Who knew where, or if it would end.) I was hairy and gruff, balding from too much testosterone, bearded and beautiful. And naked, I was spectacular. I would watch videos of myself having sex because it was so hot, my big, hairy muscle destroying some boy’s sweet pink hole. My favorites were the little tops who thought they were gonna top me. I mean, imagine having a cock like mine and the guy still wants to fuck me? Like, I’d made some of the biggest Alpha males submit to me, reveled in turning them into big muscle bottoms, but there were particular guys -- usually wrestler/ MMA-grappler types -- who wouldn’t fall under the spell of my cock, whose sweat smelled manly, too, and just went forward with the foreplay as if I were some meaty bottom. The first time it happened, it was this hot little Jersey boy, muscular and sexy with some sweet abs, probably 5’8” or 5’9”, tattoos, steroid scars on his back, skinny legs but a dick to die for. It tasted as pretty as it looked. “You gotta let me fuck you,” he growled. “With that cock, you probably never get fucked as good as you should. Lemme show you, baby…” Eating my hole, he won me over -- fuck, I had to reward an enthusiast -- especially the way he buried his face in my hairy, sweaty crack, like he couldn’t get enough. I’d forgotten how good a dick up inside me felt -- I hadn’t bottomed since my blessing -- and I gotta say, Jersey-boy wasn’t as selfish with it as I thought he’d be. He knew how to fuck. On my back, my huge legs spread wide, he stood next to the bed and pounded my hole, my own hard cock resting between the halves of my chest, inches from my chin, fairly leaking my pheromone-laden pre-cum -- even I was under my own spell. “God damn, you tight,” Jersey-boy muttered. “Not damned,” I panted. “Blessed.” “Gonna cum in your blessed hole…” “Yes,” I moaned, placing my hands on either side of his head. “Yes. Give your offering…” When he shot, driving his dick deep into me, his eyes rolled back in his head. In that moment, I felt -- not only my own orgasm -- I felt this energy leave me through my hands and enter him. I wish I could describe it better. It wasn’t like he took something from me -- it wasn’t like I gave him power -- it was more like I awakened something in him. Yet I felt that change in energy -- I was the cause of it. The catalyst. When he opened his eyes, there was something there that hadn’t been before -- a glint, a lust. The corner of his mouth curled into a devilish smile and I felt his cock re-harden inside me, even harder than it had been, and he just started lust-fucking me. What an incredible fuck that was -- the sudden power, the masculinity, the determination -- we were sweaty and breathless and oh, so hungry. I couldn’t even tell you how many times we came, how many moments of utter bliss we experienced -- how much energy we expelled and exchanged. The cock he pulled out of me was nearly twelve inches long, with heavy, obvious balls to match. Twice as big as it had been before -- nowhere near as big as it would get -- it looked magnificently out-of-proportion with the rest of him. He loved it! The next few weeks were a blurry fuck-fest. He matched me for sexual energy and desire -- his sweat was as irresistible, his personality as seductive -- everything we did, everywhere we went ended up an orgy. At the gym, working out together, watching the big straight bodybuilders fall under our spell, envying our big, gorgeous cocks. At the bars, dancing on the bars, they worshipped us, watching us strut and flex. At the bath-houses, where parties could extend into days, they gave us a never-ending supply of holes to fuck. But after a few months, Jersey-boy began to bore me. He was nothing but fucking. No thought, no drive, no interest, no appreciation -- all he cared about was how to put his cock in some guy’s hole. He didn’t need me -- he had his own circle of worshippers, of devotees -- his entourage. I still loved him -- I was bonded to him, my brother and my son; I could feel him wherever he was -- I just needed my freedom. But it wasn’t long before I created others. The same basic type: the cocky, unrelenting top -- the guy who would insist on trying to fuck me, even after seeing my hypnotic cock. Through the years, I’d created about twenty of them -- same way, they’d fuck me and at the moment of their orgasm, I would give them the energy to open themselves to the Primal Force, their Masculine Power. Like me, they grew -- muscularly, scrotally -- all their lusty appetites, but unlike me, they lost their reason, their love for anything but sex. They became this hyper-masculine, hyper-endowed, sexually-driven fraternity -- a herd of hairy, horse-hung men. Modern Day Centaurs. They fucked with me -- around me -- the world became one never-ending sex party. I loved it, every moment of it, my constant libido, my unsatisfied hunger for sex -- to express sex -- to BE sex! With every fuck, with every orgasm, with every of my centaur’s orgasms, I became stronger. Worshipping the act of sex meant worshipping me. For years it grew -- for years I reigned, continuing to grow. I weighed around 270 by my 40th birthday (52 left, I’d joke) and my cock was a magnificent thirty-inches long, half-hard and hanging like a heavy branch from a sturdy tree. My balls dangled like melons, their weight stimulating me more, producing so much testosterone that I just reeked of it. Huge rings hung from my nipples -- another of the same size pierced my septum. (Many of the centaurs had pierced theirs -- cheap horse-symbolism, but still sexy.) I was magnificent. There was not a man who could resist me, not an enemy I couldn’t dominate -- I had the most powerful men in the world begging to serve me, willing to do anything to kneel before me -- the richest men in the world as my benefactors. And all they wanted was sex. Me. I was sex. ********************************* Again, The Google: Apotheosis (from Greek ἀποθέωσις from ἀποθεόω/ἀποθεῶ, apotheoo/apotheo "to deify"; in Latin deificatio "making divine"; also called divinization and deification) is the glorification of a subject to divine level and, most commonly, the treatment of a human like a god. In theology, apotheosis refers to the idea that an individual has been raised to godlike stature. It is the way of the gods to be apart from humanity, but desire to be a part of it. As I got older -- and bigger -- it became more and more difficult to move about in public. The year I turned 54 -- which coincidentally was the year I’d been elevated for as long as I’d been human, 27 years -- I was 6’5”, 290 muscular pounds, still as lean as a teen, with a cock that was nearly forty inches long and balls that hung nearly to my knee. I was graying, sure, but didn’t look my age in the face -- I looked like my Grandfather at the same age. The Daddy-thing worked in my favor. I separated myself from the others. They never stopped -- they never expressed interest in anything other than carousing and fucking around. It was exhausting. There was no appreciation of arts or literature or the expression of creative thought -- everything was directed at sex. Everything. After a while, I found myself bored, seeking more -- though what more could there be? I desired to travel, but travel was nearly impossible. Wherever I went, sex happened. My smell, my aura, whatever it was about me that men couldn’t resist, it didn’t stop -- I couldn’t turn it off. Obviously, I couldn’t fly -- ultimately, the pilot would be unable to resist the inevitable orgy that would happen and the plane would crash. Maybe if the pilot flew with an air mask? Who knows? To me, it wasn’t worth the try. Fortunately, several of my benefactors had yachts -- massive, sprawling things that they were more than happy to offer me. In that way, I saw much of the world, spreading my seed all around the globe. We were anchored off the shore of Mykonos and I was busy fucking my way through the height of the high season -- oh, the gorgeous gay men who summered in Mykonos -- when I heard rumor of another like me. One of the local boys, whose English was far better than my Greek -- together, we spoke the language of Lust -- told me that I reminded him of the stories he’d heard about a reclusive sex god who was said to live up the coast, on Mt. Pelion. An old man with a giant cock -- the stories said he pushed his cock around before himself on a cart -- his smell, like mine, was said to drive men wild with lust, enough to make them impale themselves on his huge penis until they were dead. It was a story locals told for generations, perhaps in an effort to keep the young men from playing in the many caves along the coast. The boy told me this while impaling himself on my huge penis, so I wasn’t sure how much of it was porn-fantasy on his part. But I heard several corroborating stories over the next few weeks, so with little better to do, I had the captain sail us up the East Coast of Greece toward the Pelion Peninsula. And there was someone -- I could feel him. The closer we got, passing the spectacular cliffs and inlets of this ancient coast, the more I became aware of him. This feeling reminded me of the bond between myself and the ones I’d created, the Modern Day Centaurs -- it had the same longingful pull. The call of sex. I followed this call. Going ashore, dressed in linen pants and loafers, shirtless, my hairy beauty exposed to the world, I unerringly led myself up the mountain to the hidden door of a house nearly invisible in the mountainside of Mt. Pelion, as if someone had taken a cave and had Andrew Lloyd Wright develop it into a residence -- the old and the new melded seamlessly together. An olive-skinned beauty opened the door, dressed only in a short linen skirt and sandals. He was spectacular, young and hairless, his pink, puffy nipples sitting atop his tight, muscular chest -- his pink, pouty lips ready to pleasure my cock. But he wasn’t the scent I sought. “Geiá sou,” I said in my sorry Greek. “Eínai o kýrios sas?” The boy smiled -- probably because of the way I butchered his language. “He is expecting you,” he said in perfect English, opening the door to bid me enter. Again, walking through the house was like walking through a cave that had been made into a house, all the stone and slate, with the sleek, LCD lighting and hidden speakers piping in some old folk music -- it was the kind of place one saw on the Rich & Famous Real Estate shows, a little too over-the-top to be believed. NOTHING could’ve been this nice. How much money had this taken? How many years? The boy walked before me, allowing me to view his spectacular ass -- it was hard to decide exactly what to look at, the house or the boy. We descended a short stairs and emerged into a grotto. It reminded me of the Ancient Public Baths, a large pool dominating the space, with several types of hot tubs adorning the circumference and a magnificent, raised dais on one end, almost like a pulpit, where a massive bed sat ready for use. This was the biggest-budget porn-set I’d ever seen -- as if Spielberg were shooting a Greek fuck-flick. As we entered, the boy’s Master stood from the hot tub, his back to us, as two other olive-skinned beauties dressed him in a white, terry-cloth robe. He was nearly eight feet tall, massively muscular, though in proportion with his height, as if someone had taken a super-heavyweight bodybuilder and blew him up to 150%. An older man -- I would put him somewhere in his early sixties -- with salt-and-pepper hair that favored the salt, but long on top and shaved short on the sides -- his grooming was as meticulous as his house. He sported a beard that was a bit longer than mine, but oiled and maintained with an attention mine had never known. The robe didn’t hide the fact that he was hairy, but why wouldn’t he be? He was the perfect man. The robe made no secret of his cock, either. Like mine, it jutted before him like an extra limb, continuously hard and heavy, ready for more. It had to be over three feet long, but the way the boys had placed it in the material, it was hard to be sure. I’d hoped to find out. Hardly the image of a withered old man with his cock on a cart. When we made eye-contact, he smiled -- and in that moment, I recognized him. I didn’t know how -- not then -- but I knew who he was. I’d known him for thousands of years. “Oh my god,” I said. “Chiron!” “Hello, Pholus,” he said in English, with a glorious accent, opening his muscular arms for a hug. “Welcome home!” **************************************** You know the gag by now: In Greek mythology, Chiron (/ˈkaɪrən/ KY-rən; also Cheiron or Kheiron; Greek: Χείρων "hand") was held to be the superlative centaur amongst his brethren, as he was called as the "wisest and justest of all the centaurs". Chiron was notable throughout Greek mythology for his youth-nurturing nature. His personal skills tend to match those of his foster father Apollo, who taught the young centaur the art of medicine, herbs, music, archery, hunting, gymnastics and prophecy, and made him rise above his beastly nature. Centaurs were notorious for being wild, lusty, overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, violent when intoxicated, and generally uncultured delinquents. Chiron, by contrast, was intelligent, civilized and kind, because he was not related directly to the other centaurs due to his parentage. I couldn’t even tell you how long we fucked before we had a chance to talk. It felt like that sexual communication was almost as valuable as the verbal would be. His age was buffered by his confidence and his ability, his skillful love-making knew no bounds. Our cocks were big enough to be inside each other as we faced one another, each fucking the other while we deeply kissed. “I’ve missed you,” he moaned as he shot yet another load into me. “It’s been too long…” “I don’t understand,” I said while he thrusted himself on my hard pole. “This all feels so familiar.” “There will be plenty of time for talk,” he said, bringing me to orgasm. “But first, we must be what we are.” That first sexual coupling lasted nearly a full week. We fucked in the grotto, we fucked in the pool, we fucked in his bed, we fucked in a sling that was hung deep in the cavernous depths of the mountain. He showed me more ways to stimulate someone than I’d ever known -- or experienced! He was a master at pleasure. “Well, I should be,” he said later, sitting upright against a massive pile of cushions. I sat with my back against him, in the crook of his arm -- we were smoking some of my best bud. “After all, I’ve been having sex for thousands of years. I’ve picked up a thing or two.” “Thousands of years,” I mumbled, taking my hit. Then, upon exhalation I said, “So are you immortal?” “Gods exist as long as people worship them,” he replied, taking the joint from me. “And fortunately, we’re gods of rutty, physical sex -- men will ALWAYS believe in that.” He kissed me deeply, sharing the hit he’d taken. Of course, he was a good kisser, too. He had a staff of the most beautiful men, stunning examples all -- they bathed us and catered to us and fed us. I could feel their adoration and pride and… worship. I let it empower me. The myths held some truths: Chiron was a teacher at heart. He told me everything. “Surely you’ve done some research,” he said, indicating the computer screen before us -- (when I made a joke about the Batcave, he didn’t get my reference, so he didn’t know EVERYTHING). “From the myth of Pholus, we get the phrase ‘shooting yourself in the foot’ -- did you know that?” I shook my head and smiled. “After Heracles finished his fourth labor, he was tasked with wiping out the centaurs. Their drunken, sexual carousing was proving too much for the local populace, so he came to Pholus’ cave here in Mt. Pelion — this very cave — to seek a special Dionysian wine to lure the centaurs out into the open. Ultimately, Heracles slew them all with arrows poisoned by the blood of the hydra. After the battle, Pholus, marvelling at the idea that so small a thing as an arrow could kill something as magnificent as a centaur, dropped the poison arrow on his foot, where it pierced his skin and killed him.” “That’s what happened?” I asked. “That’s the MYTH,” he said, taking another hit. “I love this stuff, marijuana. It’s rare that I have any -- I’ve lost my taste for what passes for wine nowadays.” He exhaled and passed back to me. After taking a moment to adjust his huge balls, he continued. “In fact, it wasn’t Heracles, it was a small armada fighting in Heracles’ name that wiped us out — again, time and telling change the story. And it was understandable -- we’d created too many. We got a little… trigger happy in our play -- there needs to be a balance.” “Centaurs…?” “Right! Well, obviously not men with the bodies of horses -- but you’ve seen what they become, what their COCKS become when we change them. Is it any surprise that they became known as ‘horse-men’ or ‘half-man/ half-horse’ to the people who are left to describe them? Mythology has a wonderful way of literalizing the traits of the gods. We are spirits of nature, sexual spirits, not animals -- organized religion has used that metaphor to death. They took our form and made it into their Satan! Yet still, our ways persist -- men still worship us -- religion or not, they put gnomes in their gardens, wards in their crops, they know that fertility IS sex, Nature’s sex -- when the gods are fertile, the land prospers -- we are linked. “No, Heracles’ Armada wiped them out -- nearly all. I’d been hit in the battle and spent the next few months curing myself with herbs and medicines.” He showed me a scar on his thigh, barely evident after all this time. “Rumor had it I’d died -- that’s what the myth said, too -- but that wasn’t the case. I’d just gone into hiding. I WAS too late to help you, though,” he continued, rubbing my pec with the arm he had draped over my shoulder. “You were nearly gone by the time I got to you, so I… did what I could and preserved your essence.” “Excuse me?” He shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it without getting all technical and metaphysical -- I don’t know if you’ll understand it, even then. Suffice it to say that through physics and arcane sorcery, I captured your essence in a form not unlike your favorite thing: Dionysian wine!” He chuckled then, kissing my head. “I was the one who bottled it and guarded it for several thousand years, waiting for the right man, until it was spirited away from me during one of the many wars of the former century. I didn’t know anything more about it until I heard about you on the internet -- my Pholus, come back to me!” Kissing, kissing, always kissing. “Someone sealed it inside a garden gnome,” I said. “It was in my grandfather’s garden. I honestly think it was meant for him -- his build, his attitude (maybe he was a centaur?) -- he had to have known about it. After his death, it was passed to me, where it Lorded over a bunch of marijuana plants until I broke it… and discovered…’ “Your destiny,” he said, grabbing my cock. I stayed with him after that -- he claimed the cave was mine to begin with -- and allowed myself to be his apprentice, his pupil, his son, and his lover. He was trained in all the fine arts -- music, literature, theatre (he adored musicals!), the sciences, herbs, art. “This is what sets us apart from the beasts we make,” he said. “They cannot appreciate the finer things.” He taught me the art of sex, techniques from people long-forgotten. We played daily with each other, the staff, the local boys, visitors who came just to worship -- it was a scene from the great erotic writers, sexual energy providing the energy for everything, from the ideas to the art to the power for life. On my 92nd birthday, the same age as my grandfather when he’d passed, I was just-over seven feet tall -- still a foot shorter than Chiron -- but with a spectacular body and an unbelievable cock. I was vital, vigorous, and very horny. Chiron had re-grown the hair on my head -- he’d concocted some kind of (very) smelly salve, but it worked! After having been bald for most of my adult life, it was fun to have hair again as an “old” man. I certainly wasn’t was some kind of dried-up prune of a thing pushing my oversized cock before me on a cart, no matter what the stories said. I found Chiron in the hot-tub, soaking in the bubbling water with his arms along the edge of the tub -- even from here, I could smell his scent. “There’s the birthday boy!” he said when he saw me. I laughed. “Your favorite eccentric centaur has made his first complete lap around the sun,” I said, standing in the waist-deep water so my giant cock floated just below the surface, like a small shark. “Then you’re really just a one year old, right?” he asked. “That sounds like a good average -- one year for you equals ninety-two for everyone else. So you’ll be around 8,400 when you’re REALLY 92.” I laughed. “And they say I’M the eccentric one,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’m saying immortality requires a different mindset.” He began to rub the tip of my cock, right beneath the glans -- of course it started to harden. Horny old fuck. I bent forward and kissed him. “So, what’s next?” I asked. “Travel, I think. I should like to see the world! I’ve never been to the Americas, your former home -- and we should see how your centaurs are getting along. I’m curious.” “You’re just horny,” I said, toying with his cock as he teased mine. He chuckled in our kiss. “Eternally,” he said. We began our normal day -- we fucked -- and we made our plans. *********************************************** We leave tomorrow and have been fucking our goodbyes through the local populace. Our personal staff will travel with us and we have people to watch the cave (not that we expect any trouble -- even the worshippers are dedicated and respectful) and of course everything is connected to everything now, so communication is hardly in the Age of Homer, trying desperately to reach Ithaca. I plan to visit my grandfather’s grave and bury the little stone icon of the muscular man with the giant penis there to honor him. He watched over it for so many years in life, I’d like it to watch over him in death. I will thank him too, properly, for the gift he gave me. That’s the purpose of this story, I suppose -- to honor my grandfather. I’ve taken much of the last week writing it -- to help organize my thoughts -- and I’ve struggled with its theme. Chiron has read it and thinks it’s just fine as it is. “Let it speak for itself,” he said. “You Americans and your obsession with plot. It’s a symbolic piece -- it requires more thought than what’s happening in the plot. Let it be.” And so I do. This is my story -- this is what happened when Pholus was reborn. Thank you, Big Red.
Power Toons – Part 1: Power Boost This is a story of extreme muscle growth, hyper endowments, gay sex in anal, oral, and other varieties. There are also instances of watersports, male lactation, transformation, feats of strength, and foot fetishism. If none of that floats your boat then read no further. This story also features the characters of Goofy Goof aka SuperGoof, Louie Duck aka Captain Muscles, and Pluto the Dog aka Mickey's pet and they are copyright Disney, however this story is not used to make profit off of them and is merely an erotic fanfiction intended for entertainment purposes only. Also while there are buff toons in this story it is not tied to the B.U.S.T. Club story written previously. It is it's own thing. That being said, if you are still with us after all that then please enjoy! Some might say that in a world where most animals walked on two legs and were able able to speak like humans, that Pluto was an oddity of a dog. He continued on as a normal dog might and was the favorite pet of a certain famous mouse. He was mostly normal as far as cartoon dogs are concerned, or he was until the events of the short cartoon known as: Doggone Biscuits. In that cartoon he got extremely fat from being over fed dog treats, but then Minnie Mouse helped him lose those pounds through exercise. Due to an extreme event at the end of the short cartoon, Pluto was forced to lift millions of pounds to save Mickey and Minne and because of that his muscles swelled to ripped proportions the likes of which he had never known. Since that day Pluto the dog was immensely muscular and super strong. He even snuck off the the local toon gyms but found that none of the weights there seemed to present him with a challenge... even lifting the gyms themselves barely taxed his immense muculature. Needless to say he won a lot of dog shows and Mickey was very proud of his canine friend. One day, Mickey and Minnie were off to go on a vacation cruise that was blocked out for a full month, and so they needed a dog sitter for Pluto. That's where Goofy came in. It was a hot summer morning when he went to Mickey's house. Goof dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and flip flops to help beat the heat and his signature Goofy hat. He had kept up his secret identity for a while, never letting on that he was actually Supergoof and before he left his home, he went to the peanut garden out back behind his house, picking some fresh ones and rinsing them off with a hose before tucking about two dozen of them under his signature hat. As he did just that he saw a muscular canine with a top hat and torn up overalls walk by but stopped to lean on the picket fence to his back yard. It was the big bad wolf. “Hey there Goof. What are you up to?” asked Big Bad. Goofy was extra sure to tuck those peanuts under his hat. He donned his hat and said, “Oh just going to Mick's to do some dog sitting.” The Big Bad Wolf nodded slowly, “Taking some snacks for the road?” Goofy adjusted his hat, “Oh uh yeah. I always take some goobers with me. Never know when you're gonna get hungry.” “Could I trouble you for a few?” asked Big Bad. Goofy was sweating bullets, “Gawsh I would but I just picked them all and I promised Mick I'd share some with him so... speakin of that I gotta get goin. Nice talking with ya Big Bad.” The wolf nodded and watched as Goofy headed off. He waited till the car left before he hopped the fence and went through the garden to pick some goobers of his own. He took a note from Goofy and put about a dozen under his hat. He hopped back over the fence as he talked to himself, “He'll never miss em'. Off to the city to see what I can scrounge up next...” Goofy pulled up to the house of the mouse a few minutes later. He met with Mickey by the front door on his friend's way out. Mickey gave him a list of what to feed Pluto, told him to walk the dog three times a day, and that he should never be disturbed when he's exercising or cleaning himself. Goofy thought the last instructions seemed a bit odd but paid it no never mind as Mickey handed over a house key and was on his way in a car that had luggage stacked ten feet high on top of it. The six foot seven inch tall Goofy watched the car swing down the street and away with a toony pitter putter till it was out of sight. Turning to face the house he saw the ranch style house was larger than he would have thought. Every part of the front porch was reinforced. Normally he would have to duck under most doors to keep himself from knocking his hat off but he saw his friend's door was a good ten feet tall and five feet wide. Unusually large for a mouse that stood a little more than half the height of Goofy himself. He twirled the keys and put them in his pockets then opened the door. Goofy noticed as he entered that everything seemed larger and more reinforced in Mickey's house than he remembered. There was a musty smell in the sizable house with ceilings that must have been fifteen feet tall. Mickey's house felt out of sorts from how it used to be. In the kitchen even the fridge and cabinets were oversized. Everything was much larger than it had been. He walked through every room, flip flops clacking against his feet, noticing that the master bedroom was made up nice but the spare bed room looked even bigger than Mickey's room with a massive bed and the strong musky scent of manliness permeating every inch. He felt a swelling below his waistline just from the scent but shook it off and wondered where the darn dog was. Nothing in the backyard or anywhere in the single floored house... then he remembered the basement. He approached the basement door and heard a clinking from down beyond that door. The door was bigger than the front door, ten feet tall and ten feet wide. He opened the door and the clanking was far louder. He saw the doors and the stairwell down to the basement seemed to be sound proofed but once it was open the clanking came through in a rhythm like a slow cranking engine pounding away. It made the floors of the house vibrate. Goofy clapped down the reinforced stairs of the massive staircase and at the bottom he noticed that the stairs went around a corner with lights lining the way down. He turned another corner and kept going down. It must have been ten stories down before the stairs opened up to reveal a massive domed building under the ground, like a warehouse underground that was entirely open and at least eight stories tall. He looked around and saw subway tunnels from an old system that used to be under there and what appeared to be whole trains that were compressed into plates that stacked atop each other one on top of the other with giant poles up the middle. The plates went across nearly to the sides of the subway tunnels and were stacked up nearly to the ceiling. There were cables and poles that held them together and a massive rod that met in the middle at the very bottom as though it were a weight set. Laying on a bench of stone that was cracked and broken by sheer masculinity alone, the golden furred dog lay back, pressing the massive weights up and down over and over in a riged repetition. Not only was he totally naked but his massive junk was the biggest that Goofy had ever seen. The balls were like volleyballs and his massive flaccid cock must have hung down to his knees. Goofy would have expected Pluto to have a dog dick but it was totally humanoid and so long and thick that he didn't process it as a dick at first. Once he had it only added to his sense of awe at the god before him that was once his best friend's dog. Goofy just watched with his jaw dropped litterally to the floor and his eyes bugged out. The 14 inch boner he sported went out the bottom of his shorts and dripped precum on the ground as he watched. He lost all track of time watching Pluto press that weight, his beer can thick cock eventually could take no more and he came down his own leg, spurting to the ground and all over his feet. It was more than he could ever remember cumming but it did snap him out of his trance. Pluto sniffed the air and held the weights up. He then racked the weighs and sat up, covered in a sheen of sweat after hours and hours of pressing impossible weights. He saw Goofy and smiled. Then he stood up and goofy saw why the doors were so big. The massive dog walked over on two legs and his footfalls shook the stone ground beneath his massive feet. The massive dog was ten feet tall and six foot wide and as he walked up to Goofy he blocked out the light. He looked at the smaller man over his pecs and kept up his grin. Then he walked past the man with Goofy's eyes following him all the while, watching that gold-furred ass as the giant dog walked by him. The dog stopped at the staircase and gave a massive flex, showing off a bit of his massiveness swelling and growing from the back before pointing to Goofy then making a come hither finger waggle. He walked up the stairs with his watcher practically floating behind afterwards up to the house level once more. Back in the house, Pluto sat on the floor by the kitchen table and leaned back on the wall with his hands behind his head, casually flexing his huge muscles. Goofy followed in and stared at the dog before Pluto pointed to the list on the counter, indicating that he wanted some food by patting his belly and licking his lips a moment later. Goofy took a good look at the list for the first time and saw he should mix up Pluto some protein shakes and get him his juggs of water from the fridge. Goofy opened the fridge to see two massive barrels of protein shake already mixed up. They were fifty gallon barrels of the stuff and so he took off his white gloves then cracked his knuckles before setting in to move those barrels to the dog in his care. He struggled to get them out and set them on the table in front of the dog, then got out a third barrel labeled as “Pluto's Water”. He set the water jug down and saw that one half of the fridge was filled with steaks, each one labeled for the day's food it was meant to be for. By the time he set the water jug down, Pluto had already sucked down the first barrel of shake. He immediately picked up the water jug and started chugging before alternating between that barrel and the second barrel of protein shake. Goofy closed the fridge doors and watched the dog drink down the barrels with one in each hand, held aloft effortlessly. The tall man felt his boner starting to return as he swallowed hard. When Pluto finished he let out a loud burp that rattled the whole house and shook all the furniture. After he pat his full belly with a satisfied “Ahhhh,” before he stood up and then walked up to the smaller man, scooped him up, carried him to the living room the plopped down on the couch with goofy still in his arms. His weight caused the remove to pop into the air. Pluto caught the remote with one ear and hit the power button with his other as he turned on the tv to some random nature show. Pluto sat Goofy on his lap as he reclined back to watch, massive gold-furred dog arms draped over the man watching him. That huge dog member fighting for room with the huge balls and the colossal leg muscles that were under Goofy. He wasn't watching the show just the dog. He watched the testees and cock shift around as Pluto occasionally adjusted himself. Then he heard the stomach behind him rumble behind abs harder than steel. The muscular dog slid goofy off of him then started walking towards the front door. Goofy watched from the couch as Pluto put on a massive green dog collar with a gold P medallion hanging from the front. It only hooked in on the last loop and even then only just. Goofy just stared at the massive animal and saw Pluto point to a long leash hanging by the door. Goofy stood up and walked over to the leash, taking it in hand as he said, “You wanna go walkies?” Pluto jumped up and down with excitement, shaking the whole house and almost knocking Goofy off his feet while nodding happily. He leaned down and presented his collar. Goofy hooked on to it then the massive dog stood and faced the door as he crossed his legs and started doing a pee dance, rumbling the ground under foot. He lead the dog outside then closed the door behind him. The lock barely latched before Pluto took off. Goofy's flip flop sandals were left behind in a poof of smoke with his signature, “Yahhh hoo hoo hooeeee!” He almost flapped behind Pluto as a cape as the dog ran through the subdivisions at incredible speed, making the ground tremble and quake with every step. Each footfall cratered the ground as he ran, cars and trees bounced up in the air as he ran through all the way to the city, deep down town. He stopped suddenly and Goofy spun around him and wrapped around the muscular dog like a slap bracelet on the end of a yoyo. The six foot, seven inch tall black dog man popped back to normal, his shirt buttons all undone, leaving his chest exposed as he stood barefoot in the street next to the dog he was sitting. Pluto got down on all fours then sniffed a red fire hydrant nearby. He then nodded, stood back up, took aim, and fired. Goofy and the people on the sidewalks were not ready for what happened next. A torrential flood unleashed from Pluto's humanoid cock. The initial blast was so powerful that it ripped away the fire hydrant and blasted off part of the street around it. He lolloed his tongue as he let out a relieved AHHHHHhhhh and washed away not only the fire hydrant and debris down an alleyway but redirected the flow of the water. Goofy watched as he peed for what must have been a full minute flooding down the hill and washing upon the nearby buildings. People ran away scared down the street, but not the Big Bad Wolf who watched the whole ordeal from an alleyway across the street. Goofy stared on in terror still as the flood died down. After the last couple dabs it was raining water in the street from the broken hydrant. That is until Pluto reached down and squeezed the water line closed in a single meaty hand. Goofy was soaked and stared on as Pluto turned to face him, the massive dog's cock started to swell. Growing from 16 inches soft to a fully hard 42 inches of pipe harder than the hardest steel. Goofy stared at the boner that had begun leaking precum and Pluto pointed to the man then to his steel cock, with a very clear indication. Goofy shook his head, “Um... Maybe we should make walkies back home... kinda public and kinda big... so um... lets make walkies back home, Pluto... come on...” Pluto shrugged and ignored him, instead grabbing a nearby car and lifting it with a single hand. He plunged his huge cock into the trunk all the way down to his balls then started fucking it, thrusting in and out, beating the bumper in with his massive swelling balls till it was pounded inward. Goofy almost watched on in horror and tugged on the leash, trying to stop him, “Pluto! No! Bad Dog! Stop that! Pluto! Pluto? Stop that!” He reached out and got too close to the swaying dog's hips and was bounced back by mighty butt cheeks into the alleyway where the Big Bad Wolf was hiding. Big Bad ducked behind a dumpster and kept watching as Goofy got to his feet. He looked around to make sure no one was looking, but didn't see the hiding wolf watching from the shadows. Goofy took out a couple supergoobers and replaced his hat. He popped one in his mouth and swallowed the peanut whole. His outfit immediately changed and he was suddenly wearing a whole body set of long red underwear, with the letters SG in white on his chest, and a blue cape. He looked down to wiggle his toes seeing he was still barefoot and his hands were still ungloved. “Huh guess if I'm not wearing my shoes and gloves then they just don't come with the outfit,” he looked to Pluto then to the other goober in his hand, “This looks like a two goober job.” He then swallowed the second goober and suddenly his red long underwear filled out with huge muscles, and a bigger package, not as large as Pluto's but they'd have to do. He took off and flew over by the dog of destruction. Big Bad walked out from behind the dumpster then looked at the hat full of supergoobers he nabbed earlier that day. He talked quietly to himself under the sounds of the car crunching, “Goofy Goof is SuperGoof? And these peanuts turn him into that? I gotta see how this plays out.” While the wolf contemplated his future as the Super Bad Wolf, SuperGoof took on the dog in his alter ego's care. Pluto kept humping away at the car, his massive hips denting in the back till his huge cock pierced further in pounding into the back seat of the empty car. SuperGoof grabbed onto his arm and despite his massive strength couldn't pry the dog free or force his movement, he went to the front of the car to try to pull it away and ended up only ripping off the front bumper. He went to the undercarriage and took hold of the car's frame. On gripping it he was able to rip it free from Pluto's hands and tossed it to the side. The dog was left holding scrap metal from the side of the vehicle when the cool air hit his precum slickened cock. And that was all it took. He came. The blasts of cum from his massive canine balls were so powerful they put his previous urine stream to shame. The heroic SuperGoof had just flown, albeit accidentally, directly into the line of fire, while leaping for the dog to bring him elsewhere by force. The blast was so powerful that it hit SuperGoof and knocked him through an office building, he was sent rocketing backwards as a tidal wave of toon dog cum washed through the city streets like the creamy filling from a double stuffed Oreo commercial. After the horny dog kept cumming, he punched his massive throbbing and still hard cock through the side of the nearest apartment building then kept humping away, shaking the whole city block. Toons ran out of the building in droves, slipping in the cum filled streets and making splatted cum angels like it was snow somehow on that hot summer afternoon. Meanwhile, SuperGoof was still being rocketed, soaked in the initial concussive blast as he tried to regain his composure and return to some level of an ability to fly. However, he found himself saved, caught in the strong and muscular embrace of another flying hero. It was none other than the buffest hero from the Quack Pack known as Captain Muscles. He was really Louie Duck, Donald's Nephew, who had been transformed by a super hero machine. He was clad from the neck down in skin tight green spandex with a yellow cape flapping on his back and a white circle on his chest that had an image of a flexing arm in the middle. The thong area was a darker green material, much like his gloves and booties, and said thong was filled out to, what some might consider, beyond capacity. The white feathered, green eyed duck had a green backwards baseball cap atop his head and every inch of him was covered in muscle upon muscle upon muscles, hence his superhero name. He had never seen SuperGoof up close before and after catching him the recognition was instantaneous, “Uncle Goofy? You're SuperGoof?” The recognition was mutual, “Louie? You're Captain Muscles?” They both looked the other over with Louie being far more muscular than Goofy. He heard the commotion from the city as he flew over and said, “What's going on down there Unc... er... SuperGoof?” “It's Pluto, Lou... I mean uh... Captain Muscles. He's gotten super buff and is out of control. I'm not sure he means to be doing what he's doing but we can't let him just keep blowing off steam like that. I tried to stop him but even as my extra super strong SuperGoof form I'm not strong enough to get him to calm down,” SuperGoof explained, “Gawsh... He's not a bad dog... but his master's out of town and he got a bit too frisky is all... plus he's super duper strong so... unless you know how to boost my strength more... I can't do anything against Pluto.” Louie thought a moment then started flying super fast to the warehouse district on the edge of the city, “I have an idea SuperGoof! Hold on tight!” They zipped through the sky fast as a flash. Louie didn't know if he was stronger than SuperGoof despite his muscles and thought that he could collaborate with his personal hero. They crashed through the wall of Von Drake Labs only to come across a machine labeled as: Super Hero Machine. Goofy started to shiver and then in a flash he zapped back to his normal self, wearing his hat, open Hawaiian shirt, and shorts that went half way to his knees and were filled out well by his prodigious bulge. Louie looked him over and said, “Neat trick. So you can just change back and forth?” “Ah hyuck! Naw. I have to eat these,” he pulled off his hat and dumped his remaining super goobers into his hand, “I call them my super goobers. One makes me SuperGoof. Two makes me even stronger and I've never had more than that... not sure what it would do. How about you?” Louie activated the super hero machine and jumped inside. He stepped out as his normal Quack Pack self wearing green shorts, a green tank top and a green cap. He was fit but no where near as big as Captain Muscles. He gave a little flex and said, “My brothers and I use Von Drake's Super Hero Machine to turn into our hero forms and fight crimes... Even then I don't know if I would be stronger as Captain Muscles than you would be as SuperGoof...” “How long does it last?” “Till I get back in and change back. Why? Are the peanuts powers temporary?” “Ah yup... but I wonder...” Goofy trailed off Louie Duck quirked an eyebrow, “You thinking what I'm thinking?” “Take a bunch of super goobers, then get in that hero contraption and make the powers even more powerful?” Louie nodded. They knew they had to act fast and so Goofy handed off half of his goobers to the younger duck. They gave a final mutual nod and then downed them all. Louie transformed back into Captain Muscles but his musculature was even larger, the super suit he wore was stretched super thin over his even more gargantuan buffocity. The bulge in his thong pulled it down as his prominent chest pulled the top of the suit upwards, giving him a very sexy midriff. His leggings were more like shorts that couldn't meet with his booties over the leg muscles any more and his top was more like a short sleeve shirt that couldn't meet up with his gloves due to the even more massive muscles either. Goofy's transformation happened in a flash as well his muscles stretching his super goof suit tight over muscles that matched those of Captain Muscles as well. The suit that normally went to his wrists and ankles now went to his elbows and knees. The slightest flex threatened to burst him from his suit at any moment. In point of fact the flap in back had popped open to let his bulbous muscle ass free in the wind, now only covered by the blue cape around his neck. They looked over one another and walked stiffly over to the super hero machine, trying to keep from ripping out of their clothes naked from the muscle bulges and tremendous cocks that threatened to burst free any moment. Louie activated the machine and the pair stepped inside after barely squeezing through the door. There were flashes of light and smoke exploded from the machine as bolts popped off. When all was said and done, the door was too small and so massive black hands reached out to bend and force the doorway wider. Out from the light and smoke stepped Goofy first. He had silver super shin guards and forearm guards on his him with a silver belt at his waist that held up a massive and overstretched red thong that was barely keeping him decent with the size of his bulge far overshadowing that of Pluto's. At his neck he had a blue cape claspsed by a massive silver buckle on his chest that had the letters UG on it. Then out from the machine walked Louie wearing an outfit almost identical to that of Goofy's except the gauntlets were gole, the thong was green to match his backwards cap, and his cape was golden as well. The massive gold buckle emblem on his chest had the letters AB embossed in it. Goofy flexed with muscles equally as impressive as Pluto's if not more so and he said, “I'm not GuperGoof any more. You can call me UberGoof now.” Louie returned the flex and his muscles swelled just as massive. He looked to his hero and fought to hold back a hard on as he said, “And I'm not Captain Muscles any more. I've been promoted to Admiral Buff now.” “Lets go safe the day AB,” said UG as he took off at faster speeds than he had ever been capable of before. AB followed after both breaking the sound barrier on initial takeoff. They went so fast they didn't even notice the Big Bad Wolf had watched their every move from the hole Louie knocked into the building on entry. The black and white streaks of light zipped through the city till they found the massive dog now on his third building. Pluto just finished cumming again, filling the building to the brim with his spunk as it literally exploded from the windows. He withdrew from the building but his massive, now 50 inch, cock was still throbbing and hard. Then got swept off his feet and carried out of town at lightning speed by a duo of massive hunks so fast that he didn't know what had happened at first. Pluto was carried miles out into the woods and the duo let him go, slamming him into the side of a mountain, shaking the trees apart and punching a crater into the mountainside with a 400 foot radius that went 200 feet deep into the solid rock. When the dust, dirt, bristles and brush settled... Pluto was laying on his back unharmed and still fully aroused. He rose to his feet a bit disoriented till he shook his head and looked up to see the massive double barefoot and nearly naked adonises before him. Hearts popped into his eyes and they bulged profusely as he looked at the sexy heroes panting as his tail wagged happily. He took a begging dog posture as he sat on his haunches, looking to the heroes. Louie quirked an eyebrow at the super dog and crossed his arms over his chest as UberGoof floated down towards Pluto saying, “Now Pluto, you've been a bad bad boy today. Running off like that, destroying all that property with your strength and then flooding the streets, destroying cars, flooding buildings and then refusing to come back from walkies when I told you to.” Pluto looked down in shame, just glancing up at UberGoof with his eyes, seeming ashamed of his actions. UG wagged his finger at the dog, “Now are you sorry for what you did?” Pluto nodded shamefully. UberGoof nodded, “And you are gonna help us clean up your mess and then repair all the stuff you broke, right?” Pluto nodded again but now with eyes closed as he looked downward. Goofy nodded again and crossed his arms, “And you promise not to be a bad boy any more, right?” Pluto didn't respond but then Goofy came again, “RIGHT?!” Pluto nodded rapidly before looking down again. Goofy landed before the dog and opened his arms wide, “That's all I needed to hear. Good boy. Come here, pal.” Pluto immediately perked up and leaped into Goofy's arms, licking him rapidly in the face as the hero hugged him. Louie floated over and looked at the pair, “I'm surprised we didn't have to have a bigger battle or anything.” Pluto hugged UberGoof as he talked, “Ahyuck! I told ya he wasn't a bad dog. Just a little horny is all... speaking of... we might need to take care of this before getting this fella back home,” Goofy then pointed to Pluto's still throbbing 50 inch boner that only seemed to swell larger, adding another 4 inches in length just since they began their super hug. Goofy turned to face Louie, just in time to see the young hero moan as he watched the pair. His tremendous cock tore his belt and thong off his body as it exploded forth. His balls swung low down by his knees as the massive humanoid, pink, duck cock hardened. He couldn't help himself as he floated closer to set down on the stone ground before UberGoof. UberGoof in the meantime had set on the ground and stood, setting Pluto down as well. He watched the young ward grow and felt himself give into his desire at long last. His thong swelled with his massive dark cock. He held Pluto close in one arm as Louie walked up to him, his massive white feathered chest smooshing into the impossible UberGoof muscles as Goofy held him close the the waist and they kissed. They embraced passionately and frenched long and hard with each other. That was it for Goofy's thong and belt. They ripped free with a tearing sound then a pop as his massive cock sprang to full hardness. In the end Pluto stood at full mast of 56 inches, while Louie had him beat at an astonishing 64 inches but neither of them added up to Goofy's full 72 inch monstrosity that throbbed so hard it practically made thumping noises in time with his heartbeat. Louie withdrew from the kiss to look Goofy in the eyes before Pluto raised a hand and placed it aside Goofy's face, guiding their mouths together in another long kiss. As they made out, goofy reached down to stroke the cocks of his massive lover, making them both moan. Louie kissed along Goofy's neck and then down his pecs while he made out with the massive gold-furred dog. Louie's kisses traced down his shoulder then onto his black, gargantuan bicep. Goofy raised his arm and flexed it for the young duck. Admiral Buff leaned down and pressed his muzzle into the pit of the massive superhero, sniffing hard and taking in his powerful musk. It wasn't a stench but rather smell that was enticing. Something he couldn't put his fingers on even though his fingers were very much upon it as they traced over UberGoof's muscles. Goofy raised both arms to a double bicep pose and Pluto went to his other arm, licking and sniffing the pit, taking in the masculine scent as his hands also traced over the impossible musculature before him. Goofy flexed his arms and trapped the faces of Pluto and Louie under his arms between his triceps and lats, forcing them to stay in there. Louie managed to pull his face from the pit only to stand before the UberGoof head on, then he flexed his mighty pecs and they swelled bigger and bigger with each pounding flex till he engulfed the head of the dark dog god before him. That was when Goofy litterally stepped up his game. He reached up his massive leg to bring his super strong, long, and powerful foot to Louie's cock. He flexed his tremendous toes on that cock head and was able to engulf the head of the huge humanoid duck cock entirely with the ball of his foot and his massive black toes. Louie moaned as precum spurt through those powerful toes. The duck had to reach down and squeeze the base of his own cock to keep from cumming and in the process his pecs released UberGoof's head. He fell to his knees with his mouth open wide and he sucked with the power of a tornado to draw the other muscle toons towards him. Goofy led cock first and it was engulfed by the warm mouth of his white-feathered ward. Louie sucked UberGoof's cock and swallowed it down as the massive dark dog stepped atop his huge member like a step ladder. Goofy's toes curled over the sides of that massive duck member as he stroked it. He lowered his arms and started doing different flexes, releasing Pluto who was spurting precum like a fire hydrant. Pluto saw Louie raise an arm to a bicep flex and just kept flexing his muscles bigger and bigger, that massive bicep growing up higher and higher like a mountain. The dog pounced that bicep and latched on, wrapping his arms and legs around it as he humped the huge invulnerable muscle that was now larger than his whole body. He sucked on the top and made Louie moan around Goofy's cock. Goofy let out a small Gawsh as he started to massage his own pecs. He watched Pluto rise past him on a mountain of muscle and then he saw one of Pluto's legs dangle down and couldn't resist. He reached up a hand and drew Pluto's foot to his mouth to lick and kiss over the sole. Pluto continued to hump, hug, suck upon and moan atop his duck muscle mountain and moaned louder when Goofy began to suck upon his mighty toes. He flexed toes that could crush a train over the tongue of his master's best friend and the tongue responded with equal strength to move the toes. That was when the rumbling came... The ground shook with the terrible power as Louie was the first to orgasm. Millions of gallons forced their way through his shaft, vibrating and massaging Goofy's feet as he stood atop it. UberGoof actually put one foot by the head and let the millions of gallons wash over the top of his foot and the massive toes, spraying the flow all over himself, Louie and pluto. UberGoof moaned and was the second to fire off. He came with just as much cum. Louie was strong enough to swallow it all down and his stomach and innards were strong enough to hold it but his belly swill swelled bigger and bigger regardless, not as big as it should have been for holding millions of gallons but hefty nevertheless. Pluto was the last to hold off and was able to do so even as the other two finished. Minutes later, after the cum blasts died down and the snow was shaken off the mountaintop in a series of quaking avalanches. The three relaxed. Pluto hopped off still just as hard as the other pair. Louie and Goofy stared at each other then to Pluto who whimpered at them with puppy dog eyes. The pair were unsure what he wanted till he pointed to their still hard cocks and then bent over, spreading his ass and presenting to them as he waggled it in the air a bit showing off. The heroes smiled to each other and had no objections whatsoever to his obvious proposal. Louie lay on his back beside the dog then pulled Pluto atop him. He then wedged that massive humanoid cock between his pecs and elicited a moan from the mighty Pluto. Goofy approached and then pressed his slickened member against the massive golden dog ass cheeks, he got on his knees with his balls and cock atop Louie's. Then the pair of them pulled the dog slowly down their cocks, stretching him wide and making Pluto howl in pleasure as no one had probably ever been stretched as good as those two cocks stretched him on their entry. Pluto humped Admiral Buff's tremendous pecs and the Admiral rewarded him with licks on the underside of his cock as he did so. At the same time AB and UG were humping in unison into the mighty golden dog. The titanic, thick, throbbing super cocks bulged Pluto's belly so good. He was lost in pleasure as they humped and fucked with a power none of them had ever been able to before. They had no idea it could feel that way. They were so lost in pleasure they didn't even notice they were plowing into the side of the mountian. They continued to fuck, faster and faster like pistons plowing through solid rock and earth till they came out the other side... and when they had... came they did. Pluto blasted off first with a load more powerful than his previous loads combined. The huge cocks within him were squeezed to the point that they couldn't take it and unloaded both at once. The millions and millions of gallons of seed were contained in the dog and bloated his belly as Louie's had been... but then it was too much and started erupting out of his ass around the cocks and also out of his mouth with a stream double that of his own. Minutes later when the forest was painted white with their seed, the orgasms finally slowed from triple volcano to waterfall to gentle stream. The superheroes pulled out of the dog sat pet and the three snuggled near naked on the ground. They all went soft and lay together. In a poof all three were back to their normal selves. Pluto was a regular dog, Goofy was back to his shorts and open Hawaiian shirt, and Louie was back to his tank top, shorts, and backwards cap. Pluto licked their faces and looked them over as they rose to their feet. Goofy looked himself over and said, “Gawrsh... that was really somethin', huh?” “Totally, but I feel powerful still like I could...” Louie said as he flexed his lithe muscles and in a flash he transformed into Admiral Buff. He relaxed and returned to normal. He repeated the process a few times over, “Sweet! We can change back and forth whenever we want now!” Goofy flexed and became UberGoof and tested it back and forth, “Ahyuck! That is pretty nifty!” He and Louie remained AB and UG as they looked to Pluto who was his happy normal dog self again. Pluto then flexed and transformed into a super hero with a costume that was just like AB and UG's own. He kept his green dog collar and on to it was attached a green cape. The emblem that hung from it said SP on it with blue forearm and shin guards like those of AB and UG and the green belt on his waist held up a blue thong that barely contained his bits. He looked to the others and hit a few poses. Louie looked to the dog tag turned medallion and said, “Wow, he's SuperPluto now! That's awesome!” They took in the destruction they caused and UberGoof nodded, “Sure is but I think it's time we all went back to the city and cleaned up the mess our new super friend made. No hanky panky in the city this time guys.” Goofy wagged a finger and all three agreed as they flew back to the city to clean up after the dog's mess. Back at Professor Von Drake's lab the super hero machine was going off yet again. The machine turned off and from within came a menacing laughter. A massive clawed hand ripped the top of the machine off and three massive super beings flew up through the roof of the warehouse then headed for the city. To be continued???
I run back to the captains office. "Capt Aqua" why couldn't she pick a cooler name? i open the door to her flowing water streams all over the place in the room. The streams are so elegant and beautiful. in short shes a water bender. "Congratulations on your last mission, Christine" she says so calmly but sternly. She always intended to bolster us but her tone said otherwise. "Thanks captain. Taking down the criminals wasnt easy" i say back politely as i could. though she says a lot of things with authority, her looks says otherwise. Imagine is Cetrion was human and had light brown skin and long black hair. "I could tell, but because of your recent achievement, you finally get yourself some partners to work with." "i- whaaaaa.....?" now that usually would be a good thing but I'm a lone wolf. I prefer to work alone "You got yourself partners to take people down now. C'mon out yall" i look to my right to see 2 young men both look like they just turned 19 come out. WTF did i just get myself into?