A Lover s Touch Chp 1
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The Job - Chp 2: The Changes free porn video
They held each other for a long time, their bodies subtly swaying with the constant low rumble of the machines flying overhead. He felt her body's heat against his, her familiar form felt strange against his chest. Finally, Stan broke their embrace as he tried to lighten the mood.
“Could use a towel, though,” Stan chuckled as he gestured to his elongated soapy face. His own laughter sounded and felt oddly nasal with his pushed-out face. He wanted to stop as soon as he started, it felt too strange. His teeth and tongue connected with each other at strange tangents. Nothing in his body felt right, like he was balanced over a precipice but unable to fall one way or the other.
“I would prefer it if you used it to clean yourself off,” Emily glanced at his still pre-splattered hands briefly before her eyes moved to the ribbon of splattered cum on the floor, “and that.” she said matter of factly in what verged on a monotone. Stan could tell she was bottling up her feelings, he didn’t want her shutting down seeing him like this as she sometimes did. He needed her.
“And put on some pants... the kids could be home any minute.” Emily said as she collected herself. Her monotone broke as she saw her husband's now flaccid penis waving from between the torn folds that made up the front of his briefs. She had never seen him so big before, he looked at least twice his normal soft size. She shook her head to clear her thoughts as she wiped her hands on her long ragged apron.
Stan sighed, his body felt heavy as he sat down on one of their creaky prefab chairs. The papers he had so neatly signed and organized were strewn across the table a result of his... episode. He began to collect them as Emily handed him a dish towel, her face unable to conceal her worry as she forced a smile for his benefit. He returned the smile as best he could, but saw her sudden recoil as he revealed his newly distended teeth. Stan quickly covered his mouth to hide himself.
“No... No I didn’t mean to…” Emily suddenly cried, tears welled in her eyes, her brief facade broken.
“Ith ok...I know how it must look,” Stan tried to assure her even as he held his hands in front of his mouth. His speech was growing more confidence and clear, the slurs caused by his lengthed bones more under his control.
“What are we going to tell the kids?” She looked at the floor as she rubbed her temples.
Stan removed his hands from his partially formed muzzle and set them on the table. “The truth, there won't be anyth good hidinth it.”
Emily nodded silently before wiping her eyes with her calloused fingers. They stared in silence at each other, unsure what to do next. The pregnant silence between them was only broken by a perfectly timed knock on the door.
“INGLESTOFF OVERRIDE AAA...ACCCCEPTED.” Their house’s limited computer slurred. Before Emily or Stan could react the door lurched open.
“Delivery,” the man said gruffly as he dragged a dolly laden all the way to the handle with heavy cylindrical tubs.
“What... we’re... what are you doing?!? My husband is not decent!” Emily practically shrieked at the delivery man. The man shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the situation or Stan’s appearance.
“Please sign,” the man said with no small measure of exasperation as he produced a small white pad from the side of his uniform.
Emily began wiping her thumb on her apron, anxious to have the man leave as soon as possible.
“Not you, has to be him,” the delivery man nodded towards Stan.
“No no, she can, I’m not…” Stan stuttered, suddenly painfully aware of his exposed and tattered briefs. The table was the only thing protecting his modesty from the company delivery man. He was now hyper-aware of his newly swollen testicles pressing against his inner thighs. His cock began to throb somewhere deep in its root from the sudden stress.
The man saw his reluctance to stand and immediately walked over to the table. His heavy metallic boots clanked on their old floors. The delivery man was obviously anxious to keep moving through his day rather than out of a sense of courtesy as he extended the tablet towards him. Stan wondered how many similar situations he had walked into to be so jaded. He didn’t seem to even notice that Stan was already in transition.
Stan held up his hand and put his thumb on the device.
The pad flashed red as it buzzed under his finger. The words “NOT RECOGNIZED!” scrawled over the screen.
“Try again.” the man said, with a tired detachment.
Stan removed his thumb, wiped it on the strained shirt that covered his distended torso and pressed it again. His cock was starting to fill with pulses of hot blood as it shifted position and pressed against what few shreds of underwear he still had. He squeezed his legs together, compressing his bloated testicles, which somehow made the blood pulsing deep in the base of his penis only worse.
“NOT RECOGNIZED! PROTOCOL 4.5: REMAND ONLY TO PERSONS: STANLEY YOUNG,” the tablet buzzed again.
“Try your pinky, it goes last,” the man sighed with a growing impatience.
Stan squirmed in the chair as he curled his fingers into a fist, save for his pinky, and pressed it to the tablet hard enough to make his knuckle turn white. He felt exposed.
“ACCEPTED!” the pad blared as the screen turned green. The delivery man flipped the pad over, tapped a few quick commands and pocketed the tablet with a practiced precision.
“What do you mean it goes last?” Stan asked. The delivery man ignored him and proceeded to eject the heavy canisters from the dolly and without another word or glance left their home. The door wheezed shut behind him until it finally latched closed.
“What are these?” Emily asked first as she walked around the tower of canisters the delivery man had left.
“Let me take a look…” Stan said as he scrambled up from the chair and grabbed one of the canisters from the top of the stack. Forgetting he was sporting the beginnings of a stress boner, his half-chubbed cock flapped through the largest burst seam in his undergarment. He blushed as he managed to temporarily tuck it back into the uncooperative underwear. His balls made it especially hard as they bloated the bottom of the fabric something awful, the bumpy wrinkled flesh practically poured out of the small tears. He was ashamed to think about how many of the holes were there before he started changing. Looking up Stan could see Emily staring, just as quickly she averted her eyes.
“What are you a teenager? Come on, this is hard enough!” Emily cracked a faint smile despite the sternness of her words. Her cheeks grew flush despite herself.
“Sorry, sorry…” Stan sputtered as he put back the canister to cover his privates.
“I think... they are... food?” Emily ascertained as she got a better look at the labels.
“STAGE 1 - 23.5 KCAL,” she read out loud. The letters practically screamed, they were so boldly printed.
“23.5 KCAL? Kilocalories? This can’t be right... twenty-three thousand calories?!?” Stan took the canister from his wife’s hands to re-read the label, completely forgetting about his modesty from the sudden shock. That was more calories than their whole family ate in a week by his quick mental math. He stood there dumbfounded.
“Hold on, what did the packets say?” Emily inquired as she went over to the metal box and began to sift through the materials. Stan’s heart raced as she scanned through the papers, he didn't want her to see what was underneath the box...not yet.
“Here we go,” she said as she pulled out a plastic yellow card. “Stage 1, Lasts up to three days… hmmm humm hmmm….” she hummed as she quickly traced through the instructions. “Please consume your designated stage canister provided before engaging in sleep, rest or other restive activities and no later than nine pm local calibrated time... You must finish the entirety of the canister in a single sitting and at the designated time or... your contract will be voided effective immediately?!” Emily said with an escalating surprise, her voice climbed a pitch higher as she read the last few words.
“What do they mean voided, Stan? Can they do that?”
“They can do anything they wanth, you know that,” Stan said with a measure of dejection. His whole body ached. He never wanted to back out more than now that everything was all in front of him. The mountain of canisters was his to eat. The volume of which seemed to well exceed his entire body by several times. There had been many times over the past few years he would have given anything to have that kind of food for his family, but now staring at enough calories to last them a year made his stomach churn. Any growing chubby he had been developing quickly deflated as he turned over the heavy canister in his hands.
Emily glanced at the clock hung from the rear wall. It was nearing four. She looked back at the large canister her husband held, it was almost a foot tall and just as wide around.
“Do you think... you should start now? It's just so much…” she trailed off.
Stan nodded and took a deep breath. He felt his tight shirt pop an unseen seam somewhere on his back from the exertion. He set the canister on the table and began to unscrew the top. The perfume that almost immediately wafted from the opened container was an acrid, almost sour smell that made his lips pucker over his thickened teeth. The “food” inside was no more than a swirled brown viscous goo. He couldn’t help but recoil as its odor filled his nostrils. He could practically taste it on his tongue as it filled his head. It smelled like nothing he had ever encountered before, somewhere between street garbage and a rotting flower.
“Oh yuck!” Emily smelled it too. “Are you sure it's still good?”
“I don’t think it can spoil…” Stan’s eyes boggled at the infinitesimally small ingredient list below the caloric label, some of which had been redacted by the company.
“Maybe... maybe it tastes better than it smells… and looks...” Stan groaned as he grabbed a spoon from the utensil cup on the table and sank it hesitantly into the mixture. As easily as the spoon sank in it didn’t want to come out again, the suction of the mixture held it in place before releasing it with a *pop*. Stan eyed and sniffed it, as its viscous brown body jiggled on the spoon. The viscous stuff wasn't any better up close. He looked down past the utensil at the huge cylinder of the stuff and gulped. There was no way he could get through all that before nightfall. It seemed impossible, but if he didn’t, he could lose everything.
He realized he hadn’t eaten since the first changes. Changes like he was going to go through didn’t get their energy from nowhere. His eyes winced closed as he shoved the spoon in his mouth. He choked almost immediately as the utensil went too deep past his lips to where his muscle memory told him that his mouth should have been. Stan couldn’t help but wheeze for breath as some portion of the ooze went down the wrong pipe. After he finished gasping and clearing out the gunk from his windpipe, the gelatinous mixture left in his mouth dissolved over his tongue.
“EECHHH!!! Eccchhh!!!” he gagged, it tasted horrendous as it had smelled, worse even. Despite that he felt a pang in his soured stomach. The earlier transformation had drained him, even if the changes were minor compared to what the brochures promised was to come. The taste was like rotten lizard eggs left out in the sun. He spat, or at least as best he could, most of the stuff that hadn’t dissolved colored his phlegm brown. His ill-shaped mouth was unable to fully expel his spittle as it dribbled pitifully down his face.
Emily raced over to pat his back, trying to help him clear what seemed like an obstruction by the way he was choking on the substance.
“Hahhh...hahhh…” Stan waved Emily off through teary eyes.
“I’m ok... are... are they... trying to kill me?” he gasped between attempts to spit out the rest of the taste still swirling around his mouth. His stomach gurgled. It felt suddenly like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He had never felt at the same time so sickened and suddenly so hungry. His hand grasped the spoon so hard he felt like he may break its metal length in his hand.
As he stood there breathing hard, his free hand using the table as a brace, the taste on his tongue started to... change. The rot gave way to something else. Something almost sweet. He couldn't explain it. Before he realized what he was, almost without thinking, he went for another spoonful. The stuff dissolved on his tongue as he sloshed it around to confirm the change. It tasted like... something delicious and rare, he only had distant memories of having it. It tasted like freshly baked bread.
“Honey... are you ok?” Emily said with no small amount of concern, seeing her husband’s sudden attitude flip within moments from disgust to enrapture as he dug into the canister.
“Mmmph... can't exlphane... tasthed bath, but nowth…” Stan shook his head as he practically shoveled the substance into his mouth by the heaping spoonful, unable to stop long enough to get a clear sentence out.
“Ith athully really goodth!” he exclaimed as he ate with growing speed. He felt his whole body grow hot again, like when the pills took effect. But he was so hungry, he needed to eat.
Stan gurgled and moaned in what seemed like ecstasy as he ate. Emily wanted to tell him to stop, tell him he was scaring her as he shoveled the disgusting smelling goo into his mouth. But she knew what this meant for them as much as he did. She wasn't a fool, she knew what he had signed up for. To become a monstrous thing. Her Stanley. Emily couldn't help but choke back a sob as her husband frantically consumed the canister’s contents.
“Urrnnnhhh!” Stan groaned as his face began to extend further away from his eyes as he ate. It pinched, but it hurt less than the first time. His gums throbbed with a deep pulsing ache like somebody was pulling his teeth outward. The spoon was a flurry between his lips as he licked every morsel off of the rough utensil. His cock throbbed harder and harder the more he ate, his manhood easily navigating its way out of the compromised underwear.
Stan’s heart raced. The more he ate the faster it beat. His whole body felt flush, claustrophobic in his remaining clothes. With his free hand he clutched at the collar of his shirt trying desperately to give himself some air. His ass cheeks clenched. His butt had the same throbbing ache as if he had sat for hours on a hard board. He clutched and attempted to massage his cheeks with his free hand as they began to round-out and swell behind him.
“Orrrhhnnn…” Stan couldn’t stifle a moan as his hand soon found purchase on the growing muscle and fat of his backside.
The overstretched elastic of his underwear rolled over itself above his deepening crack. The throbbing of hot blood through his cock moved lower, seemingly churning through his balls as they pressed excruciatingly into his thighs. He could feel them growing, tightening. His balls began to tax the small tears in the bottom of his underwear as the fabric tightened over his increasingly virile orbs. Stan’s hand instinctively migrated from his swollen rear cheek to cupping his testicles. His balls were almost too large for him to hold in one hand as his member flopped in front of him, jerking ever upward with fresh hot blood.
The surprisingly heavy sac pressed into his palm, he could feel his heart beat in his orbs. His original walnut-sized balls had never throbbed. The monstrous nuts he now sported were like nothing he had ever seen or felt. The exposed flesh of his sac that peeked through the tears in his briefs was red-hot and incredibly sensitive. He hefted and tried to massage them with his thumb to work out the intense low ache. As soon as his thumb pressed into the firm flesh lightning ripped through his body. Stan couldn't suppress a sudden whole-body convulsion. His back arched backwards as he was forced to stop eating, the food dribbling down his face as his head craned backwards. The half-filled spoon dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. The muscles in his neck were tensing so hard they felt like they might break.
“Heelpp….Emileee…” he cried as his eyes rolled in his head. His lips curled back exposing his growing teeth as thick muscles compounded and built on his narrow shoulders, extending a growing triangle of muscle to his strained neck. Veins bulged up and down his throat as his head grew at least an inch or two further away from his shoulders despite the strain. The muscles in his neck were fighting the change with all their might as they pulled his elongated head backward. His cock jutted into the air, all eight inches fully erect, bobbing with his body's movements as beads of milky precum formed and dribbled down its veiny length.
“Whatthh happening to meeehhhnnnghhh!!” he cried out, his voice briefly deepening before returning to its normal octave, but no less full of pain and fear. His penis jerked and pulsed as it added another inch to its already substantial length. Its base thickening as the muscles in the overtaxed skin engorged further. His glans was red and angry as it pushed outward with a painful, verging on pleasurable, pinching.
He felt like he had been thrown into a vat of molten lead, everything burned. His hands flailed, grasping his chest. He felt his wife attempt to grab his clammy grasping hands with her calloused thin digits. He tried to hold them. He tried. It should have made him feel better but too much was happening all at once. It was too much. His hands flew out of her grip as his hands pulled and scraped madly at his still slowly extending face.
“Oh god... oh god…” Stan could hear his wife crying nearby. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted
“EmilARRGHHH!!” Stan screamed as another violent shudder wracked his body. His ribcage began to expand again. His ribs were not only growing but thickening as they stretched skin that wasn't meant to be stretched. His backbone felt like it was trying to force itself out of his body as his vertebrae enlarged. His tattered shirt became too tight to bear. His shoulders locked in place as they widened with a series of sickening pops, his collarbone stretched to reconnect as his frame expanded. His tongue felt too big for his mouth as it extended to meet his teeth. The muscle writhed uncontrollably as it tried to fit itself into his extending maw.
Stan doubled over, falling to the floor once again as the strength of his legs failed him. His thighs were stretching longer as his calves shortened slightly. He was breathing hard, long trails of spittle were leaking from his mouth as he tried to right himself. It was no use as his legs kicked worthlessly under him. His painfully erect nine-inch cock flopped against his stomach as the shirt finally began to rip down its seams, giving him some relief. Precum dribbled in a thin strand to the floor from his turgid tool. The underwear’s tatters were the only thing keeping his heavy balls in check, and barely doing that.
The changes were slowing now, leaving him gasping on the floor. He saw the spoon there on the floor and without thinking, he began to lick off the spilled contents from the surrounding area. He was still so hungry. No! This wasn’t him. He reared backwards in disgust at what he was doing. This wasn't right. He felt so ashamed. None of this was right. Tears sprung from his eyes and traveled the now long path towards his nose. His torn shirt hung from his back, still clinging to his thin biceps.
“Oh no… what did… oh no… oh no...” he began to sob as he sank his head to the floor, unable to stop his long tongue from licking his nearby food-goop covered fingers.
“Nooohhh,” Stan moaned, cleaning what little morsels were left on his digits. “I dont want to... please, Emily... Please take them away…” he weeped. He could barely see past the tears as his now large torso convulsed in his sobs.
“Please finish your food allotment before the designated time. This has been a message from Inglestoff, bringing your imagination to life!” a cheery recorded voice crackled over their home speaker.
Emily grabbed an empty container that had housed nutrition cubes and threw it towards the lone speaker at the end of the room. The plastic box clattered as it banged into their neatly organized but sparse shelves, rattling the few glass jars they had collected. The box missed the speaker by at least six feet. She turned back to Stan.
“Stan... are you still... you?” Emily whispered, her voice almost inaudible as Stan’s pointed ears instinctively pivoted towards her.
“Please Emilieee, I can't... it's changing me…I don’t want to... I don’t want to,” Stan blubbered, not processing her question despite his acute hearing. Almost as to illustrate his point his fingers began to swell as his back undulated and broadened slightly under the torn sweat-stained shirt.
“Stan... Stan... please... I know it hurts…” Emily kneeled down to meet him, her hand floated over his distended shoulder to comfort him before shrinking away.
“You have to, Stan, the contract, the contract said... this will all be for nothing... you know what they will do to Kevin, Lily, Ethan... Charlotte and... oh god Stan…” Emily held her face in her hands as the stress of watching her husband’s horrific transformation caught up with her all at once. Tears streamed through her fingers as she cried with big shuddering sobs.
“C-c-c-c... canister,” Stan wheezed out. It was taking all his will power to fight back the jagged pain and sinking dread that filled his every nerve. His fingers hurt, there were too big for his hands now as they curled into fists. The over-taxed skin of his hands turned white from the effort. He felt like he was going to pass out or cum at any moment. His tool was hard as steel as it bobbed with fresh pulsing waves of hot blood.
Emily didn’t understand as her own thin body shook from the tears. “What?” she asked, Stan’s words sounded garbled against the white noise that filled her head.
Through dry lips, and a tongue several times too large for his mouth, Stan forced himself to say it again. Everything hurt, everything but his jutting, still throbbing tool. Another dribble of viscous precum pushed its way out from the engorged head of his cock and fell wetly to the floor leaving a thin wisp of connective liquid to his puffy urethra. He had to get the words out.
“Canister... please,” he whispered, forcing his unfamiliarly long jaw to make the words as his still bunched hands grated themselves on the floor.
Silently, without a word, Emily got up, uneasy on her own thin legs. Her face was a blur of sadness and regret marred by something approaching grief.
Slowly, gingerly, she set the metal canister in front of him. It was at least half-full still. She took a step back, and another. As Stan's enlarged hands reached for it and then shrunk back, visibly shaking. Stanley couldn’t spare a moment to thank or admonish her as he dragged the canister towards himself and tipped it sideways. He took a deep breath of the odor, he wanted to eat it so badly, he could barely control himself. He looked up at her for a brief moment. Their eyes connected, saying everything that they needed to say to one another. They both knew what this meant as Stan sunk his extended face into the brown goo and began to eat.
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