Eddie found that his days at work were increasingly interrupted by a constant need to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to jack off. He knew, in his head, that he should try to moderate, that these changes were eventually going to cascade out of control, but it was so much easier to lock himself in a stall, whip out his cock, and blow a load, or two…or three. The changes tended to come in spurts–sometimes nothing would change at all. It was a few days since he’d bought the curse, and things had settled into something like a new normal–he loved his muscular physique. Every cum seemed to make him bigger, manlier, and hairier, and he relished it. He relished it so much in fact, sitting here on the toilet, that he might cum four times in a row this time.
He heard the door open, and he stifled his groans. Through the crack in the stall door, he saw that the person who’d come in was none other than Mr. Greely himself. He’d softened up to Eddie since the changes had begun, and was no longer threatening to fire him over his sales numbers, but Eddie still hated him. Hated him so much, he could just…just suck his cock. Fuck yeah, he could suck his fucking cock so fucking hard. With a shudder, he shot another load, this one splattering against the door, where his eye was pressed to the crack. Something had changed in the air, he could sense it.
“I can hear you in there, Eddie. If you want my cock, faggot, come on out, and you can get it.”
Was…was this really happening? Eddie tried to stop himself, but he flew out of the stall, his dress pants still around his ankles, and licked his lips. Mr. Greely shoved his cock down his throat, and came in less than a minute, Eddie somehow managing to shoot on the floor twice in the meantime. Mr. Greely tsked him, “You’re such a slob, Eddie. At least clean up after yourself.”
Eddie’s first thought was to just get down and lick it up, but he fought that desire off and grabbed some paper towels instead, while Mr. Greely left the room. In the mirror, he noticed that his hairline had started receding a bit…and was his body looking a bit softer? Fatter? He shook his head–it still wasn’t too much of a good thing.
By next week, Eddie had taken to eating his lunches in his truck. He didn’t remember when his car had turned into a truck, but he appreciated the fact that it offered a bit more room for him to spread out in. He’d tried eating at his desk, like usual, but lately he’d just spent his entire lunch hour in the bathroom gloryhole he’d drilled a few days earlier, sucking cock, that eating out here in the parking lot was easier. Besides, he was fucking hungry today–hell, he’d been fucking hungry all week.
He let out a belch, unwrapped another hamburger from the sack in the passenger seat, and went back to stroking his cock with this other hand, not noticing he’d smeared the shaft with grease and a bit of ketchup. It was a bit harder to jack off, with this new gut of his, but he kind of liked it. It made him look older, more mature and refined. Being a muscle bear had been nice, but now he really did look like a true man. The receding hairline had bothered him at first too, but once it had pushed back past the crown, it actually looked kind of good. The same thing with the beard, which had grown long enough to brush his fat chest, and was streaked with a bit of grey. It all just looked…good to him. Almost as good as the mechanics he was watching from his parking spot.
He fucking loved them–he could always tell when he was sucking a mechanic off in the bathroom, because they stank of sweat and grease. He’d usually blow a few loads by the time they came, which he’d lick up off the floor and stall wall, as he waited for the next person to come in for a blow job. He downed the hamburger in three huge bites, belched again, chased it with the rest of the cheap beer he’d bought, and then reached for another burger, but found the bag empty. He was still hungry, but that would keep him satisfied for a bit. He took a moment to light one of his fat cigars–he didn’t miss the cigarettes at all–and then rubbed his gut, smearing his grubby dress shirt with grease, enjoying the taut sphere jutting out in front of him, and saw Big Red slide out from under a car.
He came once just at the sight, and then kept stroking, getting ready to shoot again. No one called him Big Red but him–in fact, he was the shortest mechanic at the dealership–but his cock, fuck, it was fucking huge, and thick, with a tangled red bush. He shot again, and saw Big Red turn and stare right at him, lick his lips, and then grab the bulge in his coveralls. Nearly tripping over himself, Eddie got out of his truck, nearly forgetting to hike up his pants and zip himself up. Sure, he was a mess, but he had a date with a big red cock in the bathroom–he could never have too much of a good thing like that.
Bracken's Corner 