The Job - Chp 3: Giving In free porn video

“No murr...noaurr...” Stan slurred between breaths as his thick tongue slurped the bottom of the canister greedily. He couldn't stop himself from trying to get every morsel still clinging to the inner rim. His stomach churned, he felt so full but, at the same time, still unsated. Every movement made his muscles burn. It felt like his body was converting the food to energy as fast as he could eat it, but not providing any relief for the aching burn that permeated his every pore. Small tears still coalesced at the corners of his eyes, he didn’t want Emily to see him like this.

“Ahhhuuu!!!” A low moan issued from deep in his chest as his shoulder blades broadened. Despite his craving, he was forced to stop licking the canister as the expanding bones pushed into the hump of developing muscles that ran down his neck before tapering to the small of his back. His biceps bulged as the bones in his upper arms grew wider and thicker, ripping the sleeves of his ruined shirt that still draped over him. Recovering briefly, he huffed a few deep breaths before he grabbed the canister and raised it skyward. His body reared backwards onto his haunches as he re-submerged his long face into the empty canister to try to extract any remaining flavor. The taste had transformed into something indescribable as it hit his tongue. The brown goo was sweet, salty, spicy, savory, and something else he has never experienced before all at once.

“Please, Stan, that's enough,” Emily begged. She had retreated to the door near the pallet of canisters the company had dropped off. She used them as a precarious cover in their cramped home. She watched her husband’s myriad changes progress in a state of abject horror. She had heard about what it entailed, but had never gathered the bravery to look up a video of it happening. If she had maybe she would have fought Stan harder on taking the job.

She had to look away several times as it looked like Stan’s body may rupture from the undulations and sickening cracking occurring under his skin. His muscles were bunching and swelling all over his body, pushing at his pale skin. Stan threw the now thoroughly cleaned can down where it bounced and clattered until it came to rest against the far wall. The changes seemingly stopped along with his supply of the goo. She wasn't sure if he threw the canister in disgust or anger, but it scared her just the same. She looked away, what he was becoming was too painful.

“Emileee... “ Stan cried out as he staggered to his feet.  “I hh...hnnn...more…” he slurred as he took a step towards her. His tongue lolling out of his face as his broadened teeth were unable to hold it back. Stan was breathing heavily like he had just run up the hillside from The Narrows, the neighborhood that lived deep in the shadow of their already destitute hillside.  His enlarged nostrils were flaring with each heavy breath like a wild animal. She summoned the courage to look up, her eyes reconnecting with his. He had a hungriness in them, a wildness. It scared her.

Emily’s eyes widened as Stan rose and she took in his upright form. He had grown at least a foot taller and now stood almost six and a half feet tall. His oversized head was precariously balanced on a long muscled neck. The remains of his shirt were draped over his broadened shoulders like a ragged cape. The garment’s front and arms ripped open in ragged tears, exposing the rising and falling expanse of his enlarged chest and thickened biceps. His underwear, tucked under the base of his jutting nine-inch shaft still held on somehow, its contours bulged obscenely between his legs.

“Oh god, Stan, don’t,” she cried as she shrunk behind the stack of food canisters. Her husband’s disproportionate frame lurched towards her, his eyes looked almost feral.

“Puhhh... please… hhurrr... hurts...I  need...” Stan took another step towards her, his arms wrapped around his sides like he was trying to prevent himself from bursting. His face was scrunched together in what she could assume by context was distress. His visage was now formed of hard-to-read lines given his face’s increasingly inhuman proportions. With that step, the underwears’ worn elastic could no longer manage the strain of holding his testicles aloft and the undergarment fell from his hips. Now unrestrained, his swollen sac bounced free against his thighs. His testes, now each the size of large lemons, jockeyed with each other to find room between his legs. The wrinkled curly-hair-covered skin of his sac had smoothed substantially and now held his testes high near the base of his still turgid shaft.

“Therhh... they... huurr... burnnnn…. hhuuuhhh!!!” Stan moaned as Emily realized he was fighting to not touch himself. His teeth clacked together as his arms untangled themselves and his hands clutched at his pubic region’s curly black hairs, inching towards the base of his angry red shaft.

Stan was too preoccupied to notice the briefs had caught his knees on its way towards the floor. The underwear prevented him from taking another step without tearing the garment in half.

Emily’s eyes were embarrassingly focused on his visibly throbbing cock and the huge virile eggs that sat below it. She was only shaken from Stan’s new virility by Stan’s staggered cadence due to the fallen briefs. Briefs which brought her attention to Stan’s lower legs and shoes. His shoes were visibly bulging. Something inside was pressing hard at the worn black fabric of the standard company-issue boots that Stan had worn since before they had married. Stan’s hands bunched into fists as he tried to visibly restrain himself. The muscles in his neck were straining, turning his skin an angry red.

“Emileee... p... please…” Tears streamed down Stan’s face as he staggered forward, the underwear tearing between his calves causing him to lurch forward towards her and the food store. His erection looked somehow even larger as it pushed out a wet, glistening bead of precum from its over-full tip.

Emily was in a panic now as she looked over the cans, if she could give him one maybe he would stop hurting, stop coming towards her. She thought she could deal with this but it was too much. She turned the first can over and read the label in a flurry. “STAGE 2 - 36KCAL”, “STAGE 5 - 105KCAL”, she turned over more and more canisters but they were all wrong. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't find another solitary canister for stage one. She couldn’t even remember what she had read about the stages now in her alarm. What she did remember was the giant and universal sign for death, a skull with two bones behind it, printed prominently at the bottom of the instructional pages about not exceeding consumption.

Stan was leaning against the stack of canisters now. His footing was too unsure and he practically crashed himself into the tins, threatening to topple the whole stack onto Emily. He had never felt so out of control of his actions. His gut roiled, accompanied by the burning in his entire body, made him feel like he may explode if he ate any more or went through any more changes. But the lingering taste on his tongue was driving him mad, even now his tongue wiggled at the gaps between his foreignly large teeth for any last morsels. It wasn’t just the hunger, the only feeling that could overwhelm it was a deep burning ache that had developed in his loins. He needed to relieve the pressure. His eyes dilated as his nostrils snorted. He needed it. He needed…

“HUUUGHHH!!” He let out a short almost animalistic bellow as he began humping the stack, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm. His cock pushed open spaces between the tightly interlocked cans as he thrust his nine-inch manhood in and out of the pallet. He felt his heavy balls smacking the cold metal, sending shivers through his heaving body as the whole stack rocked precariously held together by the mesh of locked-together lids and the weight of the contents.

“Stan…” Emily’s cries sounded distant like she was shouting at him from a great distance and through a fog. “Stan….STAN!” Her voice came into focus as he felt a stinging pain on the side of his face. He staggered backwards at the shock, his cock bounced free of the metal containers. Emily held her thin wrist and winced in pain.

“Stan, please, this isn’t you…” Her voice finally reached him as it filled his sensitive scooped ears.

“Wha...huh….” Stan shook himself from the stupor like he was waking up from a nightmare. His body reeled another few steps back as he disengaged from the stack of heavy goo-filled cans.

“Stan! Please! You have to stop. There is no more….There is no more!” she cried as she began to pound on his wide chest. Her blows landed weakly as she sobbed. Her pummeling soon transitioned into her clutching at his breast, scraping his already thinned skin with her worn nails, leaving small streaks of blood across his flat pecs. The pain was sharp enough that it helped cut through the dullness Stan had felt in his head not moments before. Stan looked down at his sobbing wife, his own eyes watery with tears. This was all for her and the kids. If he hurt them. If he lost control. It would be for nothing, less than nothing. What had he done? He could barely remember the last few minutes, just the overwhelming sensations that had flooded him. He knew it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. He had never provided for them like he had wanted to. He was worse than a failure, this was his once chance to make it up to them and he had already screwed it up somehow. Stan did all he could do in that moment.

“What….” Emily protested, trying to fight him off as Stan’s arms suddenly wrapped around her and held her. Her struggle stopped as soon as she realized he was himself again.

“Oh god, Emily, I’m soth sorry…” Stan cried as he tried to kiss the top of her head. But his long face missed and wound up nuzzling her like the beast he was becoming.

“S... Stan?” Emily looked up at him, her eyes full of more despair than he had ever seen even in their darkest moments.

“I doth know what to say....” Stan turned his head away, unable to meet her eyes.

“It’s ok… It’s ok... You would never hurt me,” Emily said as she reached out her delicate hand to the side of his face. His skin felt clammy and was filled with unfamiliar musculature that she did her best to ignore as she directed it back towards her.

“No… I did... I can’t remember, but it was… it was so much…” He had never shed so many tears in one day. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his face felt almost sunburned it was so flush. “I need to stophh... I need to stopph,” he sobbed. “It hurts... I don’t want to be a monhshter!”

“I know...I know...” She tried to comfort him. “You can’t stop, they won’t let you stop... I should have never let you take those stupid pills,” Emily cried, her face buried against his chest.

“It wasth my decision... you couldn’t have known…” he trailed off. His enunciation was growing more precise as he got better at moving his face’s new proportions. As his faculties returned he could feel his still rigid erection pressing itself upward as it was compressed between them. He felt a pulse ripple down his cock from the stimulation as it released a thick drop of precum onto Emily’s dress. His balls twitched between his legs before settling again. He felt so ashamed, she must have noticed.

His heart was beating fast in his chest, it felt like it was vibrating his whole body with every powerful pump. He closed his eyes to try to will his erection down, but his mind was still hazy. Every time he got a mental image of something unsexy it washed away just as quickly. It was no use. Despite everything, if Emily felt the length of his member pressing into her she gave him no indication.

“No...No this isn’t just you, it's us. It’s both of us. We will get through this. For them, we have to, Stan. We have to.” Emily said with no small amount of determination in her voice. Her fear pushed aside as she pronounced “I won’t let them take our babies, I won't.”

“I won’t let that happen, not ever.” he agreed emphatically, a strength he didn’t know he still could summon given everything that happened that day, filled his voice.

“I know….” Emily paused. “You’re a good dad. And a good man.” Emily said as her arms reached around Stan as she tried to return his hug. His torso felt strange and too large in her embrace, but she didn’t let that deter her. She fought her instinct to shrink back from the disproportionate monster her husband had become. Her hands were unable to connect behind him due to the size of his torso. He was always thin, like her, since they had met so many years ago. But now...

Stan couldn’t help but sob ugly tears, his whole body shook in her embrace. He felt wrong, wrong inside and out. The muscles in his neck felt stiff and his jaw ached. His chest felt several sizes too big for his body. He couldn't help but shudder as he felt another drop of precum leak down the length of his angry throbbing malehood.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up before the kids get home.” She put her hands on his long face. She was less afraid now, she told herself she couldn’t be afraid of her loving husband, no matter his form.

“Oh god... the kids... Em... what will we... What will they think?” Stan’s composure was breaking down again.

Emily sighed as she broke their hug, “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry, we will cross that bridge when we get there.” She took his hand firmly in hers. His wife’s fingers felt so much smaller now, he hadn’t realized how thick his fingers had become. Stan nodded despite the muscles in his neck tensing hard with every movement. It wasn’t going to be so easy to show their kids what had happened, what was still happening to him. They would have to deal with it, and soon.

“Come on, one step at a time... that's it, one foot in front of the other.” Emily led him down the hallway towards their small bathroom. His arm slung over her narrow shoulders as she guided him firmly and steadily. His overworked muscles were cooling down as they made it deeper into the narrow hall. It felt like all his strength had turned to jelly. Stan felt suddenly uneasy and off-balance. His head felt too high, he was too high up!

“I don't feel so good...” he gasped as the sudden vertigo was accompanied by his ankle twisted sideways as he took a bad step forward. The jolt sent his large body off balance as he flailed for a handhold. To his surprise, Emily’s small frame was there to catch him as she braced him against the wall with her whole body, her legs locked against the wall for support. Her body shook from the effort as she managed to get him back upright again.

“Are you... are you ok?” Stan stuttered as he worked as quickly as he could to relieve the pressure of his body on hers. He had never felt so out of sorts. His body's new reality was catching up to him. Nothing felt right.

“It’s ok,” Emily huffed, stopping for a moment to catch her breath before rejoining him and accompanying him past the kids’ rooms as they arrived at the bathroom adjacent to their shared bedroom. Stan almost had to duck as he entered, the door jam grazing the top of his trimmed dark brown hair. In the far corner was the upright shower stall. Its small brown tiles were meticulously clean; Emily insisted on it. The rest of their house could be in shambles but Emily wouldn’t allow a hair out of place hair in their meager, but gleaming bathroom.

Their chore assignment calendar dangled on the wall just outside the shower. It was written on an old souvenir booklet they had scavenged from a fresh heap of trash that easily summited and overflowed over the northwest wall that enclosed their neighborhood. It was made of real wood paper, stained, wrinkled and creased, but pages and pages of it. Instead of selling it for food cubes Emily had mounted it proudly on the wall and let the kids color in and doodle on it. Even on the worst days when their stomachs groaned and their power credits were revoked that small stack of wrinkled papers hanging from the wall made him feel like there were better days ahead.

He went to enter the shower before Emily stopped him with a firm tug.

“No, no, no, come on, we have to get this off you first,” Emily grabbed the edges of the torn shirt that still clung to his back. Stan spread his arms in an attempt to help her out despite his ongoing disorientation as she yanked at it. With a soft shrrippp the tight band still clinging to his neck tore and the shredded garment peeled off of him, only clinging by the stiction of the sweat that had pushed out of his back during his changes. Emily held the shirt, now no more than a rag, aloft as she inspected the wet soiled garment. With a heavy sigh, she folded it and set it aside on the small table near the sink. Fabric was too valuable to waste, even in this state.

“Can I go in now?” Stan asked, anxious for this day to be over.

“Shoes please.” Emily tapered off realizing what she was asking. The distended toes of the boots worried her as to what she would see beneath.

“Oh right.” Stan felt embarrassed as he steadied himself against the wall and unlaced his right boot by holding his leg aloft. He only realized halfway into working his boot off that his substantial bobbing cock and swinging balls were practically being shoved in his wife’s face.

“Oh god, honey, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

Emily looked away, her face flushed like she was a hormonal teenager. “Just... just take off your shoes and get in already.”

Stan nodded as he hurriedly pulled at his stubborn boot. He wore no socks, the boot hadn’t grown since he was young and his foot had. He only noticed the bunching near his toes as he struggled to pull the boot off his heel.

“What... oh no... oh no…” he groaned as he slowly peeled the boot off. A wave of hot stinky air hit his face, trapped by the footwear’s fabric. His eyes widened as he saw his foot for the first time that day. His toes, much like his fingers, had grown substantially, but there was almost something akin to a thick webbing of skin connecting them at their base. The joints of his toes were distended, several sizes too big for his foot size. He tried to wiggle and curl his toes but they felt almost locked into place.

“Oh, Stan... Are they bad? How bad are they?” Emily asked, still looking down and away, the flushness from seeing her husband so exposed and virile gave her the perfect excuse to avoid whatever horror was imparted on Stan’s feet.

“N... not that bad,” he lied as he made quick work of the other boot and got into the shower before she could see.

“Good, that's good.” She focused on the folded torn shirt until she heard the shower’s door latch shut.

Stan sighed in relief as he closed the semi-opaque glass shower door. If he could spare Emily having to see his deformed feet he would do it. This was as hard, maybe even harder on her than it was on him. He had the benefit of not having to look at himself change... that much.

“I’m going to get things cleaned up out here, let me know if... if you need anything,” Emily said as she gathered the shirt and boots in her arms.

“Thank you, Em, I don’t know what I would do without you,” Stan said, his voice choking slightly.

“I know, honey, I know,” she commiserated as she looked at his inhuman silhouette through the illuminated glass.

Stan sighed as he pressed the water dispersion button, ready for the hot water to wash away the day’s troubles. Nothing happened.

“WATER ALLOTMENT EXCEEDED FFFOR MONTH. PLEASE DDDEPOSIT CREDITS TO CONTINUE,” the shower’s speaker blared as it skipped and electronically slurred over its own words.

“Requesting water loan for five minutes at low flow, any available interest rate,” he said as he pressed his hand to the water dispersion button.

“REQUESTER NOT RECOGNIZED. PL... PLEASE TRY AGAIN,” the computer practically shouted from its tinny speaker perched above the shower.

“TRY...A G... TRY... TRY AGAIN.” The computer skipped as Stan mashed his hand into the reader over and over.

Emily sighed as she put her hand against the light switch. “Requesting water loan, twenty minutes, high flow, any available interest rate.”

“LOAN APPROVED. WOULD YOU LIKE DETAILS?” the house chimed.

“No.” Emily turned to leave.

“Twenty minutes?!” Stan cried out from the shower, “It’s too much, we can’t afford that!”

“Enjoy it, honey, I will see you in a bit,” Emily smiled sadly as she closed the door behind her and heard the water begin to run.

The water began to run despite his objection. He needed it too much to argue with her. He hadn’t felt full power on their shower in years, maybe ever. The water cascaded out of the shower-head like he had never experienced before, he thought he may drown in the volume. The hot droplets crashed into his sensitive skin, he felt like he may pass out. It felt so good against his aching body.

“Oh god…” he moaned as he wiped his hands over his distended chest, freeing it of caked-on sweat and old dirt. As the hot water cascaded over him, he felt the fatigue washing away with the grime. He almost didn’t notice the persistent and growing throbbing in his still erect nine-inch manhood as it bounced needfully in the spray. The stimulation of the hot water on his length was sending fresh hot blood to bolster the already overstocked reserves that flowed through his tool.

“Gah! Why won't you go down!” he cried out to himself, the throbbing was growing worse and more insistent. He gripped his length in his hands. He had to take care of this. Slowly, he began to rub himself. His large fingers felt like a stranger’s as they wrapped tightly around his tool. His cock felt foreign as well, it was so big, his old six-inch penis was nothing exceptional but the long shaft he now sported felt like it was at a whole different level of sensitivity and weight. Despite its length, it wasn't noticeably thicker than it had been before his changes, just longer. He had never much cared about his size but he had to admit to himself despite all the other pain, having a dick this big wasn’t that bad.

As he took it in, he could feel its veins pushing into his hand. His fingers rubbed up and down its length, taking in the contours of his newly extended flesh. His fingers pulled and tugged at his foreskin, sending roiling jolts of pleasure through his body. His erect tool was no less sensitive despite its length. Without thinking his hips began to thrust in unison with his gentle exploratory strokes. His large balls swayed and slapped his thighs as he ground harder and heard against his hands. His heart was beating faster and faster, filling his ears with the sound of his excitement as he began to earnestly beat off in the best shower he had ever had.

His body was building up to some unknown crescendo. The triangle of muscles now connecting to his neck from his shoulders tensed. His toes tried to curl but were unable to as his body shook. It felt he was finally going to be able to relieve a deep pressure in his loins and the pounding in his head that had been building since the pills took effect that morning. As he took in his long cock, splashed by water, it was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen. He couldn't hold it back any longer. With a hard jerk, his cock tensed in his grip and he finally came.

“Ahhh!! AHHH!!!” he let out a stifled moan as a small thick rope of cum spurted several inches from the tip of his engorged member before being joined by two much smaller spurts of thick white cum that dribbled over his hands from his engorged urethra. The world spun around him as he felt a sudden lightheadedness. He craned his long head forward against the still cold tile, using it for support as he huffed and tried to stabilize himself. The water was doing its best to clear away the globs of cum that covered his hands. Stan couldn’t help but grit his teeth. His cock jutted between his legs. It felt like it was even more erect than before, the flesh was still hard as a rock in his sticky digits. Something wasn’t right. He hardly felt satiated at all.

He slowly began rubbing his length again, lubricated by his own jism his hands worked his shaft. His cadence speeding up to a furious rhythm as he tried to relieve the still-present pulsing need that permeated his gut. His hips once again joined his undulations. His balls slapped the bottom of his hands as he jacked off with a renewed furious intention. He knew that he had to get it down. There was a creeping desperation in his masturbation but it was pushed down as every time the top of his swaying orbs connected with his palms a shock of eclectic pleasure pulsed through his length. The low-level rapture that shot through his cock and down into his testicles was interrupting his body’s heaving cadence as he kneaded the still concrete-like shaft.

Stan hardly noticed that he was breathing exceptionally hard. He snorted a few times through his flared nostrils as he pushed all nine turgid inches of his cock through his hands over and over. The swinging of his balls became more and more pronounced as he relished in the pleasure they provided as they hit his hands. His muscles tensed throughout his body, as his newly swollen ass cheeks clenched behind him. His balls pulled up in their sac as he felt them pulse hard, the skin around them growing tight.

“hhhnHUUUAHHHHRR!!!” His long head craned towards the ceiling as he tried and failed to stifle a loud cry of pleasure. His arms and chest muscles convulsed at the overwhelming shock of pleasure as he came. His hands were forced to disengage from his madly bobbing penis and brace himself against the wall as the orgasm washed over him. His malehood, freed of his grip tensed somehow impossibly harder in the steamy air as it released a powerful ribbon of cum as it jumped upwards in the throws of ejaculation. His legs felt weak. He could feel his cock’s muscles transporting the scalding hot jism through his shaft like a madly throbbing hose. The cum that spurted through his gaping urethra was noticeably more voluminous. The silky stream cleared almost a whole foot as it just missed the wall and splattered wetly on the shower floor. It was joined by another powerful rope almost as far-reaching as the first, and another. Each rope was accompanied by his hips thrusting forward as if to launch the jism from his body. His cock couldn't keep it up as it weakly gurgled out a couple more globs of sticky jism from the head of his overtaxed cock. Stan moaned as the pleasure seemed to go on and on. The warmth radiating from his loins was overwhelming as the afterglow saturated him.

But the ache in his cock was still there and had spread deep into his swollen balls. His shaft not showing any signs of softening as it dipped slightly downward, no longer held aloft by his tensing pelvis.

“Why... won’t you…” he cried out as soon as he caught his breath. As if in response he felt a powerful pulse ripple up and down his shaft, like his own hands madly masturbating had provided moments before.

“Ahhh!!! What's... happening…” Stan moaned through gritted teeth. His head forced into the wall once more as he felt another powerful pulse. His body’s leaning weight was supported by his long face as his hands gripped the base of his tool.

“No... please... please don’t,” he whined as he squeezed the base of his shaft in a futile attempt to stop the pulses. Defying his plying grip the hot flesh of his phallus began to push against his fingers. The pleasure almost knocked the air out of his lungs as he choked on the water cascading over his face. The long granite-like muscles of his cock were stretching under the thin overtaxed skin of his tool, pushing his fingers apart. His glans puckered and swelled like a blooming flower as it broadened. His growing urethra burrowed up his shaft, parting his powerful muscles and drew the skin around his cock even tighter. The opening for his urinary tract flared open like the mouth of a fish gasping for air as it widened, evicting a few drops of leftover cum from his shuddering length. Veins pulsed and thickened up and down his shaft feeding his penis scalding hot blood with every throb of his rapidly beating heart. The underside of his dick bloated with muscle as its girth grew to the thickness of a liquid nutrient bottle, almost seven inches in circumference.

“Ahhh!! Huahhh!! Huhhhh!!!” he moaned as he pulled the heaving slab of meat upwards towards his stomach. The hot water splashing all over his body was only making the pleasure more unbearable as it thrummed through every nerve. Pre-cum began to leak in a small trickle out of his penis’s head. The water was fighting his lubrication’s ability to coat his hand as it did its best to wash away the slick clear liquid now dripping from his hefted still growing malehood. The pleasure was overwhelming, the ache in his loins unbearable as he rubbed himself in a frenzy. His right hand clutched his swinging balls as his left worked his shaft causing his cock to elicit a gurgle of fresh pre-cum. Everything felt so heavy, so sensitive, Stan felt like he was losing his mind as his whole body worked to push his package into the flurry that was his hands. His balls were swelling between his legs as the skin, even loosened by the heat of the shower, began to tighten around them.

His face jerked to the side, the pleasure was threatening to overwhelm him completely. He had to keep himself together, he promised Emily. He promised... But the building pressure in his loins was too much. He couldn’t fight it. It was too strong.

"Won't give in, I won't..hurrr," he gasped, his teeth ground against each other as he felt a pulse of heat flow through his body from his loins. His leaking heavy tool jolted as it redirected his thoughts back to his sex. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to fuck, to fuck anything, anybody. Sink his needful length deep into... He felt something building in his breast, something animalistic that wanted to get out. He moaned as his cock's impossibly hard flesh extended another excruciatingly pleasurable inch in length out from his groin. The growth caused his pre-soaked ten-inch dick to slip out of his groping hands. His lubricant production had now overwhelmed the water's ability to wash it away. The throbbing mass bobbed needfully between his legs. His heavy balls twitched and drew upward. He couldn’t hold it back any longer as he reared his head towards the blinding white light that hung above the shower. His jism and pre-coated hands held his long face in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn't fight it, he couldn't.

“EmilLEEWHINNNEEYYY!!!” he screamed as the last handhold of his sanity was flooded by desire. His voice lowering an octave as his body was permeated with a feeling of unquenchable lust. His vision went white and his hearing collapsed into a buzzing white noise. His heavy balls clenched hard between his legs along with every worn muscle in his body. Stan began to cum again and again in powerful arcs that coated and oozed against the shower wall as the animal inside him, the one he had been fighting a losing battle with all day, was finally freed.