Original notes from 08/30/2015: In my latest poll, I asked if you guys wanted faster but shorter updates, or if you wanted me to keep the previous pace.
Twice as many people voted for quicker updates as voted for keeping the status quo. And there was one vote for “WHO CARES GIVE ME MORE OF BROD.” So this chapter of Brod’s tale is the first one written with the shorter format and quicker updates in mind. There’s no direct sex in this one, but … well, it has a very messy beginning and it sets up the next couple of chapters.
Since this is the second part of the Growing Unrest story arc, I assume you are already familiar with Brod’s tropes. If you aren’t, well, I’m not going to warn you because honestly if you don’t know the stories your reaction will probably be pretty funny. Just don’t expect anything resembling reality.
I hope you guys enjoy this faster pace. Please, please leave me your feedback! I’m eager to hear from my audience! And I’m likewise happy to hear constructive criticism!
Notes from 02/11/2017: Because iccustom-capital.ru does not allow for incestuous content, this series is starting at part two as far as this site is concerned. You can visit / for part 1.
Basically, part 1 involves Brod realizing his cock mysteriously grew after his pants split open in the bank.
In my last story, I’d learned that my cock had grown to two feet long, and that my balls were even bigger than before! Naturally, this was disconcerting. Fortunately, when I returned home that evening, some of the ladies in my house helped me with my discomfiture.
Now, you may or may not know this, but my house is sort of a revolving door. There are always girls coming, and going. Though they generally come far more often than they go. If it weren’t for my staff, it would be a whole lot of trouble, because things get really messy really fast.
I smiled up at my maid as she came to take my breakfast plate. Her heavy tits bounced and quivered as she bent down. Alicia picked it up and clucked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she turned away, giving me a view of her plus ass, my maid’s delicious tan skin exposed for my delight.
The lack of an outfit was practical, though—my maids were usually nude simply because things were so messy that any clothes ended up saturated and caked with jizz just from them walking around. I exaggerate, but not by much. Splat. Splat. Even now, she walked through a puddle of spunk that must have been at least an inch thick, creeping over the tile of my living room.
I checked the location on my laptop. I knew roughly where my destination was—I’d passed the location before. I didn’t foresee a problem getting there.
I closed the laptop and removed it from the girl’s back. She groaned as she laid atop her vast belly, swollen like a big, bronze bean bag. It held her up at a convenient height for use as an improvised desk. I’d finished blowing my load in her, and much of it was now leaking out around my cock, waves of thick, white spunk rolling down her thighs and stomach to the puddle on the floor, much of it slathering my titanic nuts as they rested against her gravidness. My feet were planted in a pool of this muck. My heavy balls hung so low that they dipped into it.
Hers was the last pussy available in the house, so I didn’t see much of a point in pulling out right away. Granted, I could have fucked the maids, but there was a huge mess to clean up.
I put my hand on her plump ass and pushed. Schllrrrrk. Inch after inch of leg-thick womb-wrecker pulled free of her. She mewled and began to twitch and shudder in orgasm, sending jets of juice into the air around my girth. Pop! My glans came free, and with it, my seed, gushing out of her and all over my sack, making the puddle below grow. I leaned down and put my hands on her belly, sliding her through the lubricating seed so I could get off the couch. Gllrrrsch! Some of that gushing jizz drenched my chest and belly in heat.
I stepped around her, then maneuvered between her belly and that of the neighboring swollen white girl. I swerved around her, avoiding the coffee table and the three spunk-bloated bodies draped over it. Their bellies pinned them to the table, and what space they didn’t occupy was covered in inches of goopy spunk. It rolled and dripped to the ground, another vast puddle merging with the ones left by the other girls. This was exactly why most of my house was tiled.
My living room was airy, the ceiling high, skylights in the roof and picture windows overlooking the bay. Bright sunlight lit the devastation within. Every cubic inch of the air in this room was dripping with sex, the thick scent hanging in the air and making glistening trails roll down the thighs of my maid as she picked up my computer. And almost all the furniture was draped with swollen girls.
The spot I’d been sitting in on my couch was the only clear one. Four ladies laden with jizz lay gasping and moaning. One of them was draped over the armrest, her ass sticking in the air. Another was resting her head on the back of the couch, her pussy gushing jizz over the seats. This one kneaded her belly. Two more on the nearby loveseat were moaning and kissing each other. I could see mouthfuls of spunk being traded, tongues wrestling, whiteness rolling down their chins as they tried to wrap their arms around each other. Their bellies were far too large for that, though.
My cock bobbed in front of me, still pulsing and hungry, throwing off globs of jizz that splatted on the floor and ceiling. Splat-splat-splat. Slap-slap-slap. My feet stepped through torrid batter as my heavy nuts slapped my thighs. I passed a blonde and a redhead slumped against the wall on the floor.
The redhead looked up at me, bleary-eyed, a goofy grin on her face. “Thanks—glurk!” SPLAT. She ejected a fist-sized glob of jizz. “Thanks for breakfast, Brod.”
I chuckled. “I can’t leave you girls to starve, you need your strength.”
I walked into my main bedroom. I actually have two master bedrooms in my house—there was one where no sex ever took place, because as accustomed as I was to sleeping in a seminal swamp of my own creation, sometimes it was nice to have a clean bed.
Then there was the second one.
Every square inch of my king-sized bed had a moaning, dripping, swollen lady on it. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how many girls were in here. One sat in an armchair, staring out the window at the bay. Her belly engulfed the armrest like an espresso-colored water balloon. Six … seven? I counted the collection of monstrously swollen bellies preventing their owners from moving anywhere. Amidst the tangle of limbs and bodies upon my bed, I counted eight bellies.
I walked into the bathroom. The floor was covered in inch-deep jizz that made me stop and question why the hell I thought getting cleaned up in this bedroom was a good idea.
I still remember way back, when I was much younger, and a couple dozen pussies could satisfy it. Its appetite had only grown. To be honest, I sometimes envy smaller guys. After all, a lot of you can fuck or jerk off a few times in a day and be done with your libido. And then you can clean up with a paper towel or two.
Meanwhile, I had to get custom-built plumbing installed in my house to avoid clogging the pipes with so much jizz. And I’ve clogged my share of pipes, believe me. You know that meme going around about a notice to stop boys in a dorm from jerking off and clogging the drains with jizz? I actually do that all by myself.
I went upstairs to my main bedroom. The one that didn’t eternally reek of an orgy. Meg was gathering up my laundry. She smiled at me, waddling past—I’d fucked her once in the morning and once in the evening yesterday. Her wide hips rolled past as she kissed my cheek.
I managed to get cleaned up, though it took me a good half hour of running my cock under cold water to get it to deflate. Once my cock gets going, it just doesn’t want to stop.
I dressed in my usual fare—basketball shorts and a t-shirt. In this case, a purple Third Street Saints shirt. I went into the garage, got into my Escalade, and got on the road.
My gigantic nuts, each a bit larger than a volleyball, hung over the edge of the seat. Usually, basketball shorts were comfortable, but, they’d gotten tighter and tighter over the last couple years. The cloth hugged my absurd bulge tightly, trying in vain to contain it and give me some dignity. Then again, “dignity” wasn’t something that often factored into my life. My sixteen-inches-plus of flaccid meat rubbed and slid under the elastic cloth. No modesty was possible for me.
About twenty minutes later I was on the tailor’s street. While Aleta hadn’t known a good tailor, her boss Greta did. Apparently, her husband was a large gentleman who came here, as well.
The shopping center also contained a few other places. There was a Mediterranean place nearby. A gyro might be in order later. I saw a few other restaurants, one of those Curvy chain gyms for women, a couple clothing and shoe stores. The tailor was next to the gym. “Bhola Bespoke” was emblazoned above the entry.
I parked and went into the tailor’s shop. I opened the glass door. A chime went off deeper inside.
The ceilings were high, and the space was made of wood. A few large fans spun lazily overhead. Racks of suits, pants, shirts, cloth, and all the proper accoutrements lined the walls. Two hallways flanked the central counter and lead back to what I assumed were measuring booths and fitting rooms.
This was an interesting shop, because it didn’t just cater to men. I could see a gap into the next section of the store, where there was a bunch of saris, cholis, salwar kameezes, and other Indian-style women’s clothing.
“Hello, hello!” came the feminine voice around the corner. “Welcome, who is that I hear in the front?” A dark-skinned pear-shaped woman jiggled around the corner. “Is that—oh my damn!” Her jaw dropped. Her big brown eyes locked on my titanic bulge. What she was looking at appeared to be two over-inflated volleyballs and nearly a half yard of obese sausage crammed into too little elastic grey cloth.
“I’m Brod,” I told her.
She nodded, blinking and shaking her head. There was a bindi between her furrowed brows. She looked at me and said, “Yes, of course. Greta told me about you. But. Words don’t do you justice. I am Arva Bhola. And you … you are huge!” Arva sighed. “I did not believe Greta until now!”
Just then, a girl in a burgundy dress came out. Her green eyes locked onto my bulge, her jaw dropped, and out came “Fuck!”
“Lana!” chastised Arva. A few wrinkles appeared when she glared at Lana. “Language!”
“Sorry, Auntie! But look at him!” she protested, gesturing at me, her eyes open as wide as an owl’s as she looked at her aunt.
“I can see him! Is vulgarity what you learn in school?!” Arva sighed, turned to me, and said, “Please forgive my niece.” It seemed that Lana’s outburst had distracted her enough to allow her to reassert some poise.
“I hear stuff like that all the time, don’t worry,” I chuckled.
Unlike Lana, Arva’s hair was up in a neat bun, and she was dressed in a purple sari. Lana’s face was rounder than her aunt’s, her lips fuller. Both of them had prominent noses and cheekbones—I suppose that it was familial. Their dark bronze skin must have been, as well. Both of them were lovely. But one thing I couldn’t ignore, which they also shared, was those curves! Damn. I had to wonder if they had become tailors because of their incredible figures?
Both had incredibly wide, round hips. I wanted to see them from the back! Their thighs were bigger than their waists, and they were no waifs. These ladies were thick. Their tits were the size of their heads … Not as big as Aleta’s from yesterday, but fuck, there was some nice quivering. Any normal clothes would have struggled with their deliciously voluptuous hourglass figures. I could feel my cock shifting. I found myself wondering what Lana’s mother looked like.
“I’m Brod.” I extended a hand toward Lana. She shook it.
“You’re strong,” she commented, smiling up at me.
I could have complimented those gigantic hips, or their ludicrous busts, but instead, I said, “You both have the most perfect eyebrows I’ve ever seen,” I commented.
“Oh, thank you!” giggled Lana. “I’m learning to do threading.”
“Yes, she is very talented, thank you for noticing,” said Arva. Her eyes wandered downward. It seemed she remembered how outrageous my package was. “So, Brod. Uh. You know….”
“I think what my aunt is going to ask is why’ve you come today?” asked Lana, elbowing Arva.
Her aunt cleared her throat and said, “Yes, that’s right. Greta told me a little about you, but not what you needed.”
I nodded. “Right. What I need is pants. I have custom pants, right? But I’ve grown since I got them.” I patted my right nut. “Yesterday my pants ripped open in the bank while I was squatting. It was embarrassing.”
“Oh, my, in front of everyone?” asked Arva. “What a sight it must have been….”
“Yeah. That does sound awful…,” agreed Lana. “I wonder if anyone took pictures?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I had to go in the back with a banker I knew and hide in the conference room.”
“Is that where you won them the Bay Steelworks account?” asked Arva.
I smirked. “Yes.”
Arva bit her lower lip and waved me into the back. “Let’s start measuring you. This should be interesting.”
I followed them into the back, and damn was I right about their asses. They were so big and round, bouncing and jiggling. I could see the gentle twitching of Lana’s powerful-looking hamstring under her soft flesh. These ladies probably worked out. Those asses swayed back and forth hypnotically. I tried not to grab them. My cock was starting to attempt its escape from my shorts. I regretted not wearing underwear.
They came to a chest of drawers at the end, where the two hallways met. Arva opened the top drawer, and said, “Where is it?”
“What?” asked Lana.
“The tapes, of course,” she answered.
“You moved them into the bottom drawer,” answered Lana. She bent over and slid the lowest drawer open, perking that fat booty up in the air. I heard her rummaging.
“No, let me look.” Arva bent over, her huge ass now exposed as well. Four plump, round, inviting, gropeable, enormous ass cheeks jiggled and bounced in front of me as they searched for their tools.
Lana looked over her shoulder and noticed me. Then she realized what I was looking at. We shared a grin. She glanced at her aunt and back at me. My cock was now in an arch, pushing the front of my pants out until the first few inches were visible. Lana licked her lips.
She reached back and grabbed her skirt with her fingers, and with a flick of her wrist, the cloth flipped up over her back, exposing her bare ass and her minimal panties. A puffy mound was visible, almost escaping her underwear.
I stepped forward and ran both hands over her ass. As her aunt kept rummaging through the chest, oblivious, Lana pushed back and ground her mound against my burgeoning bulge. That felt nice and warm through the thin cloth.
Lana straightened up and bit her lower lip as she looked up at me. Her aunt stood up. I stepped back.
“Hah!” Arva held up a tape measure. Then she looked down at my bulge and frowned.
“Um. Brod, what—”
FLUMP. My cock surged free, uncurling and flopping out of my pants, draping over the waist, a lazy downward arc that became straighter and straighter as I grew bigger and bigger. The fleshy behemoth hung in the air between them.
Arva opened her mouth, but it took her a moment to actually speak. “...Uh. What … are you … excited?”
“I was looking at your asses, couldn’t help it,” I answered.
“Oh my god,” panted Lana. Neither of them could take their eyes off my swelling organ. “So huge! You’re bigger than anything ever!”
“I … I … oh dear, oh no.” Arva mewled in her throat. “C-can you not get it to go down? I cannot measure you when you’re hard!”
My organ did not want to go down. It swelled to its full two-foot size, jutting proudly forward, a marble-sized, glistening droplet appearing at the tip. It pulsed powerfully, finger-thick vessels rippling as they supplied the monster’s energy.
“Not until I get it off,” I said. That wasn’t true, but I needed that pussy. “Sorry, but god damn, do you girls have nice asses.”
“Lana, did you tease him?” asked Arva, looking at her niece.
“I might have!” she answered, licking her lips as she looked at my erection.
“Well, help him get it down, I cannot deal with this if he’s erect. This is your fault,” she said before walking away, out to the front. I could hear her breathing deeply and muttering under her breath.
When I looked back at Lana, I could see glistening trails rolling down her thighs. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing my cock behind the glans and leading me into one of the fitting rooms.
Sarkopheros Keeps Talking:
All comments are encouraged, be they criticism, compliments, or anything else! I reply to everything I can.
Written by Sarkopheros
Copyright © Sarkopheros 2015. All rights reserved.
This story is a work of fiction and is intended solely for the entertainment of adults.