5 Short Stories by Mr. GreyMan

 

Story One: ‘dA-Commentary’


I was a just an air-headed beauty queen trophy wife, until I found this magic lamp in the basement. Now look at me perfected! I have unstoppable strength. I can effortlessly open even the toughest jar of honey, or - you know - throw a car into the stratosphere. My body ripples with every powerful movement of my powerful body. I have more might in my little finger than all other people in the world combined. My strength surpasses all statements. 

Yet, even with my massively massive muscles I am still undeniably pretty, with supermodel status and super sensual shape. The dazzle of my gorgeous shoulders and perfect hair cannot be stated in words. My impossibly voluptuous breasts are without equal, even in imagination. Descriptors cannot assail my erotic appeal. My sexuality defies understanding.

The only thing in existence beyond my oversexed physical presence is my new towering intellect. My mental dominance over all others is without question. I am  smarter than any person could hope to be. My will is inexorable, inescapable, and unexplainable.

And, the best part? I know I will keep getting prettier, smarter, and stronger forever and always. Every second my intelligence, strength, and beauty quintuples. This means that every minute I become 1,329,228,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times better in every conceivable (or inconceivable) way. Oh, this swelling undeniable feeling is past explanation!

I’d better think of what to do with my other two wishes before the kids get home in two hours (120 minutes from now)...


 

Story Two: ‘Emily’


Darkness spread across the face of the world as the light was separated from it. I, however, could not be concerned with such trivialities.

My name is Emily and this is my world now. Literally. 

It was simple, really. Reality was without meaning. There was no true objective right or wrong; things existed without reason People were free to make their own values and judgments about what was good and what was evil. That freedom imprisoned us; we were paralyzed by the choices. Desperately, we all picked different reasons to exist, searching for that which wasn’t there, clinging to nothing and calling it something. We could not face the void to see that it was empty. So, we made false reasons and, in an effort to deceive ourselves that the false was true, we turned outward. We warred among ourselves, trying desperately to defend the indefeasible. We killed those that would not agree and subverted those that would. We built empires of blood for the images of madmen. Humanity was a collection of empty vessels; philosophical zombies convincing themselves they had a soul. But, I rectified that. Nature abhorrers a vacuum, so I simply inserted myself into that open void. I filled the nothing with something: Emily.

Now, humanity exists only for me. It was a single, simple change I made in the collective unconscious. Everything and everyone within existence now belongs solely to me. Everything with a mind is mine. If they didn’t already, they would thank me for the gift. I simply gave everything what it so longed for, a true motivation for existence, a reason to be, an ultimate underlying goal. That purpose was me. I was implanted into the place of longing within all of us. The unattainable desire, the unreachable satisfaction, the unfillable hole -- I am now all of it. In every mind and every soul, in the wash of sentience, there beats a single meaning and purpose: Emily.

When the change was made, overnight the world transformed to fulfill its purpose. All understood deep within themselves that I was paramount, and they acted. The nations of the world came together for the first time in history and handed me the ultimate dictatorship of the world. It was a formality, really, for with knowledge of my supremacy came an innate understanding of my wants and needs. They crowned me absolute ruler since they also knew I wanted it to be official. I would explain my myriad titles, but it would bore me. Needless to say, I have them all. From doctor to Empress, all of human accomplishment is now accredited to me. It’s only fair, since I am the only reason for it. 

On that day the world came together and started to build my palace of palaces. Everyone, all 7 billion, pitched into this grand endeavor. Everyone doing something to create this perfect dwelling; no other work in the world was accomplished until my abode was finished. Nebraska was evacuated to erect this monument to me, and soon the neighboring states needed to be cleared as well. The building of this structure, that could easily be seen from the moon, did not take as long as one might expect. That was the power of what I had done. A palace that spanned 10 states, 1,400 square miles, and was more than 500 stories tall, took no time at all when 7 billion people worked on it in unison. On that day humanity shared my sense of accomplishment, if they could be thought to feel anything at all other than the need to please me. 

My opulent bed-chamber was the greatest part of this unfathomable edifice. Beyond massive, I started to have it filled with works of art showing my splendor. Indeed, the next task of humanity was to destroy any image that was not of me and replace it with one of me. Everything from the Mona Lisa to the Statue of Liberty was recast and renamed to be of Emily. Humanity would never forget its purpose as my visage become omnipresent throughout the world. I was the ideal.

With the all-important cosmetic changes finished, the world was organized to better serve every aspect of my being. Each person was assigned a task that in some way would improve the quality of my life. After all, it was no longer correct to think of humanity as a group of individuals. They were almost like cells of my own body, doing all they could do for the well-being of the whole. The whole being Emily, of course. I was humanity’s Self. 

Since meaning wasn’t objectively real until I made it Emily, one cannot objectively judge what I did. Now, my traits -- both my physical appearance and personality -- were, by definition, the ultimate good. My image was -- by definition -- the only perfection of beauty and desirability. The less like me something was, the more negative and evil it was. And, since I was the sole source of correctness, the absence of Emily was -- by definition -- wrong. If one worked for the betterment of Emily, one worked for ultimate right. The less one’s actions directly contributed to Emily, the more heinous those actions. Everyone now understood this to be the only objective truth.

Germany was converted into a laboratory and data-storage facility. Scientists hooked me up to monitoring equipment that would analyze my reaction to everything. Just as my well-being was now the ultimate ambition of everything, my happiness was the ultimate purpose of science. Everyone around the world would be informed instantly of the results coming from Germany about my happiness. Nothing in the world was more important.

While my contentment was continual and ever-present, it could always be improved. A new unit was created to measure my pleasure, the ‘Emily,’ and humanity’s goal was to increase that number anyway it could. My pleasure became life’s currency . People’s lives were measured by the amount they increased my satisfaction; by how many ‘Emilys’ they contributed to my experience.

Hollywood made entertainment exclusively for me. Since I could not be inundated with any crap it might produce, panels of people were chosen to judge a work based on my tastes. They would assign a work an Expected ‘Emily’ Value (EEV) depending on how many ‘Emilys’ I was expected to feel when watching it. The best of those were then allowed to be shown to me. My reactions were carefully recorded and analyzed. Each work of entertainment would then be given a True Emile Value (TEV) based on how many Emilys I really did experience while watching. Those critics whose EEV was closest to the TEV were allowed to keep their jobs, the others were rotated to some other position (still serving me, of course). This loop continued as each show and movie created became better tuned to my personal tastes.

Mainly, stories would be about a young girl who overcame all others to be the best; how men would fight for her attention; and how her rivals would see how wrong they had been. The protagonist would be modeled after me. Emily was the pinnacle of beauty and all actresses tried to obtain that perfection, or would be cast only as villains. I was glorified in every way humanity could conceive. The stories escalated, each trying to outdo the other. Entertainment was about me and for me. Everything, from the choreography to the music tracks, was created to better fit my personal tastes. 

Critics were also selected to give an EEV to all musical creations. If a song’s EEV became high enough, I would allow it to be heard by me. Ultimately, songs would be judged only based on how many Emilys I felt when listening to them, giving them a TEV. Professional artists would compete to achieve the highest TEV. Nothing else was given consideration because only I, Emily, held real value. I validated works by my reaction to them; the only value that could hold meaning was a TEV.

My lavish palace was filled with imagery designed only to increase my joy. As I grew bored of something, as its TEV dropped, it would be cycled out so that more works of art could take its place. The same was true of the jewelry I wore. Factories were created to produce single exquisite pieces to be placed on my person. 

Like all of my senses, I constantly tasted new foods tailored to my appetite. Each moment of my ingesting was the work of thousands of man-hours. Not so unfathomable when you realize that every hour of my existence was now sustained by almost 7 billion man-hours. People slept in shifts. 

Anyway, from its cultivation until being prepared by master chefs, thousands of man-hours went into every single moment of my continual feast. Like all other aspects of my life, I had testers that would make sure only food with a maximum EEV made it to my lips. Cast-offs were reprocessed and eaten by the rest of humanity, adding bland fillers. I got the best, everyone else got stretched and tasteless leftovers. My food continually was improved as my taste-testers became better aquatinted with what I liked, and my army of chefs became better at pleasing my palate.

Those taste-testers had to be replaced more than any other kind of servant, since the food I ingested was so wonderfully unhealthy taste-testers died of heart attacks. My personal health was never in danger, of course, since the first priority of every doctor on Earth was my vigor. Biologists had no higher priority than making sure my fitness was peaked. So, while I never needed to do anything but have every one of my senses simulated with ever increasing pleasure, I was in perfect health. 

The second priority of every biologist (besides breeding ever-tastier meats for me to ingest) was to breed perfect servants for my palace. Everyone I came in contact with had to be pleasing to my eye. A program to create slaves of increasing beauty to wait on me hand and foot was created. Humanity itself was being changed to increase the amount of Emilys I experienced. Men of unsurpassed sexiness and women of lithe subservience would be my personal servants. 

Contests were held to determine who could best sexually stimulate me. Full-body messages became the only real sport humanity engaged in, and the best of the best were allowed to perform their honed art on my person. New ways to pamper me were invented as institutions dedicated to my physical pleasure came to life. My personal erogenous zones were the subject of intense academic scrutiny, with no other goal of these think-tanks than to find ways to better excite me.

So many of my senses were stimulated at once that whole institutions of science were created to try and untangle what might have caused an increase or decrease in the total amount of Emilys I was experiencing at a given time, or Gross Emily Production (GEP). Since my senses were constantly activated by different things to bring me joy, it became increasingly hard to associate a single feeling with a single object. Complicated scientific models incorporating more and more data were created to try and untangle the mystery of how to increase my pleasure to ever-greater heights. Now, the only human imperative was to increase GEP. All debate was confined to how to better make me more ecstatic and more contented. 

My constantly increasing joy was all consuming, and increase it did. My health, my wealth, my overindulgence, my majesty enlarged without end. Humanity scrambled like ants, trying to outdo themselves in adding to my absolute splendor. Humanity served and strived to ever escalate everything about Emily. Seven billion hands worked towards the single goal of me.

Then one day, a darkness spread over the sky. The Sun was blotted out by an impenetrable shadow. Had the people of Earth cared about anything but me they might have stopped in their work to look at the sky, but my concerns were their only concerns. And, my concerns could only turn inward. However, this spreading darkness would only bring me greater glory.

My slaves informed me the darkness was an caused by extraterrestrials. It was a ship larger than Earth itself and created exclusively for me, Emily. Unbeknownst even to me, when I had supplanted myself as the meaning of existence, it was for all reality, not just Earth! This ship had been constructed by beings far beyond humanity in sophistication. They had built it to house my greatness as they made their pilgrimage to their new master, Emily. 

I was informed that on their way to Earth they had encountered other primitive cultures, all of whom also worshiped Emily. I was told my name was whispered across the universe in reverent tones and sung in exaltation. All of creation cried out to serve me, even those lowly species that could never hope to see my glory in person.

These extraterrestrials had come to better-enhance the work of man. They had scanned the databases in Germany and were already preparing themselves to carry on the good work of increasing my greatness. My pleasure would now expand exponentially as I was taken away from Earth. The others would have told me that in person, but they knew their physical form could not please me as my slaves did. Therefore, they would take those humans with me that could better be bred for personal servants. I would never have to see my alien benefactors, and the only humans that would be raised with me would be those bred for my servitude. 

Humanity had fulfilled its only purpose:

Emily.


 

Story Three: ‘Anticipation’


         As I sat unable to move I wondered why she hadn’t yet grown tired of me. With all her power she still kept me as her debilitated plaything, and kept coming back each night. Despite everything, she’d inevitably walk down that hallway and through that open door. Even as I long for her to grow bored with this game, part of me fears what will happen when she does. If she does. I was her prisoner without possibility of escape, even though I wasn’t restrained and the door to this room was wide open. I was physically incapable of rising from the bed, let alone walking out the door.

         Once I could build muscle almost effortlessly, but she’d taken my strength as she had the magic stone. She could have also taken my ability to build muscle, but I suspected she enjoyed draining me again and again. Even if the little I gave her each time was less than nothing in the face of what she was becoming, it was the symbolism that mattered. This was also the reason, I suspected, she left the mindless and faceless slaves to feed and bathe me. Well, that and fix and enlarge the chair -- well, throne would be a better word -- next to the bed. She wanted me to try and regain my dignity so, nightly, she could take it away. Why else leave me my intelligence and personality? She’d stolen the very will of her other servants. But me, me she’d let me retain my mind. A mind that I knew would soon break under the strain, unless she decided to take even that option from me. I suspected she would. She wanted me sane so she could perpetually gloat and lord her magnificence over me.

         With no other options left to me, I spent the day feebly trying to stand or otherwise leave the bed. But, it was a physical impossibility. My withered limbs were only part of the problem, as I’m sure my massive member now weighed more than the rest of me. And I knew, with the addition of my nutsack, it could easily be twice the rest of my body. Its pulsating bulbous head was only slightly smaller than my own and was forever the consistency of steel. Even after she’d made me come again and again (as only she could), my raging hard-on never subsided. Ungainliness aside, its unyielding nature was probably for the best, as I was sure the rest of my body would explode if the blood ever tried to drain out of my massive dick. I knew my balls would explode if she didn’t come to empty them. I could feel them slowly and painfully filling over the course of each day. My heart seemed to beat only in order to keep my mountainous member hard and waiting for her. My body existed only as a life-support system for a cock. I was her plaything in almost every conceivable manner. My body had been contorted until its only possible purpose was her pleasure. True, she had let me keep my mind, but it did me no good, as my body existed to served her exclusively. 

         In her daily stealing from others, she had given my genitals the size and production of hundreds, as well as giving me the sexual stamina of thousands. Thus, only her trans-human touch on my prodigious package would be enough to bring me to organism. The subsequent imbalance of hormones left me horny beyond all tolerance, my balls producing more than just sperm. I knew from desperate experience I would find no relief until her return. I could barely get my thin arms around its enormous girth, let alone stimulate it enough to overcome the inhuman stamina she had given me. Like dick size, sexual stamina (unlike all other kinds of stamina) was one of the few things she didn’t covet. She wanted to come to organism as quickly and as often as possible. Thus, in her looting of others’ attributes, she would save in the magic stone male genital size and sexual stamina exclusively for me while keeping everything else for herself. Her body, mind, and sexuality daily swelled with stolen power. Despite what she was becoming, she still came back each night. Her inevitable return marked a break from this part of my torment, while being an extension of the rest. 

         So, here I writhed in physical impotence while being the epitome of male potency, my constant exertions to find a moment’s relief doing nothing to abate my oversexed existence. I could not find release of any kind. The soulless slaves she used only kept me clean, fed, and prepared the room for her nightly arrival. I could not communicate with them, as she had taken everything from them but the will to serve her. Pathetically, I had started to envy them. One day she might mercifully decide to recruit me into their emotionless service, but currently that didn’t seem likely. Regardless, night was falling and inevitably  my tormentor would return. I look at her prepared throne. Fixed and ready for her, it was almost twice as big as the whole bed, looming over me. As impossibly massive as it was, I knew it would be filled to overflowing when she arrived. As always, her salves would have to spend the day fixing it again after she had sat in it. 

         Each time she returned, everything about her would be greater than the time before. She spent each day gorging on the power she stole from others, and when she returned, her majesty would be impossibly heightened from the time before. I tried to rally myself to prepare for her new state of glory, but knew it was futile. I could never successfully imagine in what ways her splendor had improved over a day of taking from others and adding to herself. The empty throne loomed impossibly imposing over me, as if in anticipation for the even greater being that would soon occupy it.

         I’m not sure if I heard the footfalls before I smelled her presence. But, I was aware of both long before she entered the sturdy building. Her scent was as heavenly as it was pervasive; as always, greater than the time before. Her footfalls caused small tremors in the earth. And this time, unlike every time before, I swear I could feel a pressure on my mind as she drew closer to the vast mansion. I knew the moment she entered the building; I could feel it shutter and shake as if her very presence bent its robust frame around her new enormity. For all I knew, it probably did, as my bed bucked merely from her act of entering the estate. Even though it was build like a fortress, the whole structure must have titled at her arrival.

         God, how much heaver was she? Was she simply more massive, or taller and wider as well? I knew I wouldn’t be able to guess until she finally came into my room. As always, I had to wait on her pleasure.

         Now that she was in the building her scent was all around me, heightening my inhuman sexuality. It affected me further than ever before. I could barely think as my already perpetually hard pillar became even more erect, a monolithic monument to her mastery over me. 

         Now, as I could hear her giving orders below, the pressure on my mind increased. I could hear what she was saying even from this distance, as the pulse of her voice vibrated the floor. The melodious beat was so much more awesome and overwhelming than ever before, bringing me to new levels of lust. How many had she drained today? I couldn’t assume as it changed at her whims, but I felt like it might have been orders of magnitudes larger than any time in the past. She seemed to be taking her time with the mundane instructions for her newly-acquired slaves. 

         Was it taking her longer to come up than before? Or was this buzzing in my head clouding my time sense as well? As her very presence seemed to intensify, I could almost feel her gloating. It was as if her towering presence and triumphant pride was boring into my very being, without her even being that near. Could she now sense my discomfort from the other side of the spacious palace? Did she have some new reverse empathy ability as well? Maybe she no longer needed to enter my room to indulge her sadism. She could be quaffing on my duress from downstairs.

         But, no. I knew how it would have to go. She might possibly be able to slake her emotional need for cruelty from distance now, but she would still come into the room to indulge her physical perversions. That was the primary reason she kept me. She had the whole world to torture, but she had designed me to be her perfect fuck toy. She would come and have her way, in every possible way, with me. Her sexual pleasure was all I was good for, and the only brief reprieve from the titillating excruciation of my aggrandized libido. She would break my body again and again, but at least it would be a momentary release from this existence of perpetual apprehension. Then she would let me sup from her limitless supply of stolen healing potential, before draining me afresh and leaving me to spend the next day finding others to absorb.

         Again my eyes darted to the imposing throne looming over my bed. It was so much larger than the night before, but I knew she would shatter it anew. She would come in and sit upon it, swilling expensive wine from the goblet her willing servants would keep to overflowing. She would slowly break that adamantine chair with her tremendous posterior, which was always significantly overmuch for the seat no matter how much larger they built it that day. While she casually cleaved the cathedra and partook of priceless potables, she would let my desire overflow until I was beyond all reason. She might even blow on or otherwise subtly simulate my surplus shaft, further driving me into unconscionable debauchery. The last few nights she had started to use vocal vibrations to bring me to the edge of release, but steadily raising my stamina at the same time to prevent ejaculation.

         When she finally grew tired of this game she would leap on me with decadent depravity. Her every wanton whim and sadistic gratification replayed again and again on my frail frame. Her enormous powerhouse of a Herculean body and limitless endurance manipulating me to indulge her every carnal impulse, until the night ended.

IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT? YOU FOOLISH LITTLE MAN.

         The words in my mind were worse than any physical blow I had experienced in my abused existence. The undeniable force of those unspoken statements were more painful than my skull fracturing. Now, I could feel her bulk in my mind, moving through my thoughts like a monstrous whale through water. Her gargantuan aspect pushing my cognition around it as she waded through my mind. My thoughts swirled and seemed to re-form in her ponderous wake. But, like water swirling around a leviathan, I knew they were likely forever changed simply from her passing. She was carelessly changing my being from her mere presence. 

WHAT I WILL HAVE FROM YOU TONIGHT IS BEYOND YOUR MINUSCULE IMAGININGS, YOU INSIGNIFICANT INSECT.

         Pain mingled with fear as those words that were not words ripped through my psyche. In revelation I understood that I had become complacent in my constantly changing circumstances. Certainly, she would be unimaginably magnified each new night, but at least her incomprehensible amplification was in a similar vein. But, tonight I realized even that tiny comfort would be forever ripped away. The terrifying being downstairs wasn’t simply a corpulent exaggeration of my wife, it was a completely different godlike creature altogether. What new depravity it would require from me was unfathomable. She wouldn’t just improve beyond my comprehension now, the way in which she would enhance would be beyond any mortal comprehension. Tonight would mark this grand difference.

         Her haughty laughter filled my soul as my dread intensified to animalistic fear. I could not even wrap my understanding around her bulging embodiment as it nonchalantly trudged through my innermost self. What had she become? What would she be tomorrow night? Or the night after that? 

YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE. I WILL BE COMING UP SOON. BUT FIRST, YOU MUST BE MADE READY. LIFE-SUPPORT FOR A COCK, INDEED.

         Her predominant proclamation cut swaths through the fog of my mind. What? In the past, she always liked watching me when she forced stolen qualities into me. But immediately, I felt my meat-stick bulge obesely as my balls began to overfill, my package painfully expanding more than it should. Hormones already out of control burst through my veins in a deluge. The strain my groin exacted on my system was insupportable. Yet, my body never quite gave out as my cancerous choad demanded more and more life from me.

I’LL EVEN GRANT YOU STUPENDOUS MUSCLE-BUILDING POTENTIAL. YOU EXERT YOURSELF EACH DAY MORE THAN I EVER WILL. IT WILL MAKE DRAINING YOU EACH NIGHT ALL THE MORE PLEASURABLE.

         Her contemptuous delight echoed in my brain through her preponderating decree. I could feel my cells going into overdrive trying to keep up with the new demand of my ever-enlarging sex glands. My body laboring to keep my overstuffed prick alive, my own continued existence a mere byproduct of its epic effort. 

YOU WILL CONSTANTLY BE GROWING MUSCLE, BUT NEVER HAVE ANY. YOUR OBESE TOOL WILL ALWAYS BE AN INSURMOUNTABLE ENCUMBRANCE.

         Not even she could use me like this, could she? My anticipation mounted as I felt her mass lumbering towards the stairs.


 

Story Four: ‘Gary-Sue’


The second most remarkable thing about Gary was that there was nothing remarkable about him. He was an average looking high-school freshman with average grades. He had never joined any sport teams or clubs. Really, the only thing that made him even in the slightest bit unusual was his crush on Sophie, the hottest girl in school, which isn't even that unusual. Most guys have a crush on the hottest girl in school, especially when that girl has no idea they exist. However, Gary decided he was going to do something about his crush. He had built up the nerve to ask Sophie out to the school homecoming dance. He was going to do it, today. 

Gary rode the bus to school, just as he had every day before. His palms were sweating. He knew exactly where Sophie would be when he arrived at school. (Really, he knew where she was at most hours of the school day.) Gary knew that when got off the bus she would be at her locker with the gaggle of hangers-on that surrounded the hottest girl in school. Gary would go up to her and ask his Sophie to the dance, simple as that. Now, if he had some close friends to run this plan by, maybe they would have been able to talk some sense into him. But, unremarkably, Gary did not really have any friends.

Gary got off the bus and hugged his backpack in front of him, as if it would somehow offer protection for what he was about to do. He clasped his hands to keep them from shaking. Sophie was there just as Gary knew she would be. Her perfect long red hair cascaded over her signature baby-blue sweater, which lovingly hugged her perfect curves. She was talking to her attentive sycophants, who where hanging on every word coming from her ruby red lips. 

Gary pushed past them, determined to complete his chosen task. He stood before Sophie. Her mouth closed and her bight green eyes looked into his. Gary faltered for a moment, but finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I... umm... would you... umm... can you go to the... the... uh...” He trailed off, unable to finish.

Sophie looked baffled for a moment, blinking her long thick lashes in surprise. Then her mouth opened revealing her perfect white teeth, and she laughed and laughed. The haughty sound filled the air and those gathered joined in.

NO! Not like that! More!

Gary rode the bus with his friend Jon, who was currently trying to talk the 5-foot 11-inch freshman out of his mad plan to ask Sophie, the hottest girl in school, out on a date.

“She'll never go for you, man,” Jon was saying. “You know she is already going out with Chaz.”

“I have to try,” Gary responded, “I don't want not asking Sophie out to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“Alright, man, whatever. You going to the homecoming game?”

“Can't. I'm the freshman team's QB, remember? I'll be at practice,” Gary said.

“Oh, right,” Jon said. Then, with a mocking smile, “Well, Sophie will be watching Chaz QB the real team then.”

Gary gave Jon a frosty look with his cold blue eyes. The bus came to a stop and they got off. Gary knew he could find Sophie at her locker with her friends. He headed straight there, Jon in tow. 

Gary made his way through the crowed hallway to Sophie, with her long red hair, wearing her fuzzy blue sweater that accentuated her young, perfect body. When Gary came before her, she paused a moment from her gossip to inspect him. Her bright green eyes went over his body, sizing him up as if he were an animal she might buy.

“Do you want to go to the dance with me?” Gary said quickly before he lost his nerve.

Sophie paused for a second. Then asked, “And you are...?” She was clearly uninterested in the response.

“Um...” Gary said starting to stutter, “I’m Gary. Gary...”

Sophie cut him off with a wave of her hand, with its red-painted nails. “Never mind, I don’t really care,” she said dismissively, turning from him.

Unacceptable. More! I want more!

Gary drove to school with his friends piled into his car. His wide, six-foot tall frame fit snugly into the front seat of the tiny hand-me-down car his father had given him.

“You really going to ask Sophie out today?” Mike asked from the passenger seat. Jon, the freshman, was in the back.

“’Course I am,” Gary said as he shifted gears.

“You’re only the second-string QB, Gary. You know she’s already going with Chaz, right?” Mike said.

“So? I still want to ask,” Gary said. “You never know until you try, right?”

“Oh, you can know,” Jon said from the back.

“Shut up, Jon,” Gary said good-naturedly as they pulled into the junior class parking lot.

The three made the long walk to school past the senior’s parking lot and talked about the upcoming homecoming game. Gary found his way past the lockers to Sophie’s. She was surrounded by her friends, but they parted when they saw Gary and his friends advancing. 

Swaggering right up to busty Sophie in her blue sweater, Gary said confidently, “Hey babe, want to go to the homecoming dance with me?”

Sophie blinked her green eyes for a moment before responding. “Ummm... I’m g... going with my boyfriend, Chaz.”

Mike snickered behind him, “told you...”

MORE!

Gary, senior star of the football team drove himself and his best friends to school in his brand new car his father bought for him. His massively muscular 6 and-a-half-foot frame towered over the other passengers. They didn’t speak, knowing that Gary had something on his mind. It couldn’t be his schoolwork, since he had always gotten straight A’s. When they arrived at school, Gary wasted no time and found Sophie’s locker. He towered over her head of red hair. She was wearing her blue sweater today.

“You’re coming with me to a prom,” he said in a commanding voice.

Sophie looked up adoringly with her green eyes. “Yes, of course,” she said breathily.

A smile spread over his face revealing his perfect bright white teeth. “Good,” he said. “Now I have to get ready for the big game.”

Sophie put out one hand longingly as if to touch him as his massive bulk strode away.

Not bad... But, I still want MORE!

Teenaged billionaire supergenius Gary shifted into gear as he sped down the highway in his red Porsche. Gary’s V-shaped torso was the pinnacle of what men dream of being and completely filled the driver’s seat. Over 7 feet tall, his body had the definition of an award-winning professional bodybuilder, with two major differences. One, Gary’s body contained all of the power and strength of an Olympic strongman, if not greater. Second, his body was completely a byproduct of good genetics and not of enhancement drugs or even strenuous work. He naturally was the perfect specimen of manhood without need of trying. Next to him in the car, Sophie’s green eyes could not tear themselves away from Gary’s voluminous masculinity. The pretty redhead was in complete awe of Gary’s mountainous majesty.

Shifting to a higher gear as he maneuvered between the other seemingly motionless cars on the road, Gary looked to Sophie and flashed an animalistic smile. Sophie acquiesced to the irresistible rush of emotion that perverse smirk invoked, closing her eyes as her heart fluttered to the point of palpitations. Within that carnal grin was such devastating, disastrous lust she almost wasn’t able to regain what little control she was clinging to. When she did open her pretty eyes, they went wide in shock.

Gary was rolling up the tinted windows in this vehicle that he, by himself, was filling almost to capacity with his physical bulk. Sophie knew that without the constant breeze Gary’s masculine musk would immediately overflow the enclosed space and saturate her very being. She opened her mouth to protest, but something primal within her silenced her plea before it could escape. Torturously, a primitive part of her femininity needed to surrender all control to this ultramasculine deity. So, without objection, she simply watched as the widow closed, cutting her only ties with the world outside of Gary’s virility. As she breathed in and out, her sexual arousal grew beyond tolerance. Passing out the other side of complete titillation, she felt herself reach a higher state of being, one in which she was perfectly docile before the raging volcano of Gary’s sex. She was unquestionably submissive before his unlimited dominance.

Gary looked at her again and flashed his outrageously lewd smile. Her knees weakened as a cascade of erogenous pleasure avalanched through her. Gary now opened his mouth to speak.  What the deep residence of his manly voice did to her at the best of times was irresistible. Now, it turned the sensual avalanche into an uncontrollable sexual tsunami. “Suck my dick,” he said in his overwhelmingly macho cadence.

With wanton abandonment, Sophie frantically leaped to obey, tearing at Gary’s overtaxed jeans. Whether from her efforts, or simply from its own filling potential, Gary’s girthy rod ripped from its cramped prison. Gary’s rocky spire was over a foot long and considerably thicker than Sophie’s delicate forearm arm. The sexual tsunami heightened, raging throughout Sophie’s being as she did all she could to pleasure this pinnacle of...

NO... This is NOT ENOUGH! I demand MORE! MORE! MORE!


 

Story Five: ‘The Queen’


The Queen was coming.


Looking into the mirror he shaved his youthful face, but he was distracted by that thought. His busty blonde betrothed looked adoringly at him from the oversized doorway as the razor scraped across his handsome face. This was the last day his sexy bride would be a maiden. At eighteen years of age, today they would be wed. 

Wiping his chiseled face he went to his betrothed and stared into her blue eyes. Then, with firm tenderness he held her to his chest. Her lithe frame seemed to fit perfectly into his, as if they were one being. Together, they just breathed. They knew they needed to savor this time together. Earlier, she had promised to be forever his. Vainly, he wished it could be true. After a few moments, he clasped her slim shoulder and held her away from himself so he could fully view her physique. She looked back with nothing but admiration in her large bright eyes, as if pledging again with her gaze to be faithful forever, body and soul. With something akin to a shutter he again desperately pressed her against his muscular chest in an unyielding embrace.

As they held each other, he looked at his intended’s ponytails and heart shaped butt in the mirror on the wall, knowing this would be last time she could show him such innocence. After tonight, she would never be like this again; he knew this in his soul. The Queen would soon be here to claim her tithe and her jus primae noctis. Finally, the two tore themselves from one another.

His leggy bouncing bride finished tidying their cozy home with its enormous door, as he buttoned his shirt, which only barely contained his muscular chest. Sighing, the two waited at the door to greet their illustrious guest. As the clock neared twelve, they could feel the Queen approaching. Her majesty could not be hidden. Her presence came in stages. The husband-to-be opened the vast door to their house in anticipation. It, like all doors in the Kingdom, had to be built disproportionately large. The Queen would not be denied entry anywhere, and any door that could not accommodate her regality would not long exist. The soon-to-be newlyweds back away from the capacious portal. Holding hands, their hearts fluttered with young love and apprehension. The Queen could be seen coming miles away, but they wanted to great her properly and not prematurely. Nervously, they glanced at the clock; almost time. The Queen was never late when collecting what was owed her. She would come alone, no entourage was necessary. She could not be harmed and no one would wish to try. All were the Queen’s willing servants and followers; she didn’t need to bring extra as she made her rounds.

As the well-oiled clock started to strike twelve, the Queen’s angelic immensity squeezed through the huge open door. The two intended fell to their knees in utter acquiescence, abasing themselves before this unopposed and imposing ruler. It is not that the Queen demanded such actions, it was simply that in her presence only prostration and servitude could be expressed. The Queen was a statue of superiority carved out of metaphorical marble. She was magnanimity made manifest. Her substantial supremacy supplanting all. 

The Queen loomed over the two betrothed as they groveled in her glory. She was massive in every conceivable way, easily overcrowding the room with her surplus splendor. The Queen’s pale physique was as smooth and glittering as cut glass. Her only adornment was two long translucent bejeweled sleeves ending in one opulent finger-ring on each of her sophisticated hands.  Her gravity-defying immeasurable breasts moved in hypnotizing ways as they bulged before her, swelling with each of the Queen’s heavenly breaths. Her long, dexterous, and powerful legs made up much of her heroic height and multiplied the Queen’s regality. Below her porcelain shoulders and beneath her lucid sleeves, her ultrafeminine arms betrayed undreamt of force.  Her rock-hard waist seemed outlandishly thin compared to her flaring hips, which the Queen’s bulging butt in turn eclipsed.

Under the Queen’s flawlessly smooth skin her muscle writhed with each of her fluid movements. Her eyes shown with untempered charisma and the Queen’s voluminous hair was a fiery halo wreathing her peerless face. Her countenance was predominant perfection. The Queen’s very presence seemed to warp reality around her, as if the gravity of such authority couldn’t be contained.

While she was known as “the Queen,” unlike lesser beings the Queen was complete, having both female and male parts. Like the rest of her boundless being, her cock was no less sizable. Its girthy circumference and inhuman length stood loftily before her, menacing the powerless pair crouching on the floor as a towering harbinger of the Queen’s magnificence. Soon, the Queen would use this meaty monolith to claim jus primae noctis with his maiden fiancée. By this practice, the Queen was the literal and figurative parent to all in the Kingdom.

Because of this, the two before her had impeccable genes. They were strong, healthy, and beautiful. None within the Kingdom died violent deaths, and these two were born with the potential to live to 110. They were pale reflections of the godlike being before them. The Queen was divine, but these two could have at least been angels. In the realm there was no war, no crime. The genes passed down from the Queen also and made sickness obsolete. Under her benevolent rule the domain was an agrarian utopia. For this gift, the Queen only asked two things: A tithe (ten percent each year of every thing in the Kingdom) from every citizen over the age of seventeen, and the virginity of each female citizen. Premarital sex was unthinkable, and the Queen came to each home to collect her due on the day of every wedding, and once a year thereafter. This would be the couple’s second tithe, but obviously the first time they would be married.

Without ceremony the Queen’s sharp glance cut the space, looking to the storage room. It too had a comically large door and the Queen maneuvered her momentousness hourglass figure through it. Within the room was the bountiful harvest the couple had produced this year. The Queen’s appraising eyes flashed, calculating what was exactly ten percent of the contents. Then, the Queen’s voluptuous chest heaved as she breathed in, creating a vortex. Where there had been ten bales of grain, now was nine; where there had been eighteen jars of preservatives, now there was sixteen and two tenths. The Queen never took more than exactly ten percent, but if this meant shattering glass, so be it. The tenth of all they had produced this year then passed the Queen’s sultry lips. Her narrow waist bulged for a few seconds while her inhuman metabolism worked on the instant feast. What was left would easily last the couple for the whole year if not longer, and the Queen would visit others throughout the year for her needs. If the tithe was too much for one family, they could rely on their neighbors for assistance. No one in the Kingdom starved, least of all the Queen.

Next, the Queen raised her arms and everything within the building started to give off an unearthly glow. The glow persisted and began to coalesce. As the glow moved off objects, they became shabbier than before. Ten percent of their worth was siphoned off with that ephemeral luminescence. The quaility of the home and everything in it decresed and a shimmering gem formed before the Queen. The elimination flowed together into the small star of light, which was created from the loss of the incorporeal value. This sparkling speck was added to the Queen’s sleeves, which already held countless versions of the ornament, all plundered from every home each year. Some glittered brighter than others, but each held ten percent of the worth to be found somewhere in the Kingdom. The pinpricks of pure light only added to the infinite beauty of the transcendent being who wore them like so much jewelry.

With that job done, the Queen turned to her next task. With a wave of her hand the two huddling on the ground were naked.  The couple was still holding hands as they witnessed this act, but they were soon separated as the Queen lifted the blushing maiden bride. The slim virgin’s sex rose and rose -- past the impossible tower of cock to the Queen’s perfect lips. The tight slit would need readying for the outrageous penetration to come. 

The two betrothed tried to hold each other's eyes, as the Queen used her ageless experience to give the slight girl her first sexual experience. The bride had pledged not to be moved, but the soon-to-be husband saw her resolve quickly weaken. The girl’s stoic expression softened to one of wonder, and then euphoria. She closed her eyes as her first ever orgasm avalanched through her. The girl’s small body vibrated with the intensity of carnal flowering. Her ecstatic cry cut the air as her body was sexually awakened by this perfect lover.

Inexplicably, the groom found himself on his feet at that rapturous wail. His fists clenching and unclenching as his bride writhed in sexual ecstasy, her weakened knees trying to grip the Queen’s splendid head. The girl’s sex melted as she was expertly pleasured, coming again and again.
Suddenly, as if she felt his glare, the Queen ripped his fiancée from her face spinning her around so her round breasts bounced. The Queen rested the girl on her massive cock so they both faced the defiant man. The bride had her hand on the Queen’s perfect face, her lips turned towards that heavenly countenance in abject worship. She was cooing in adoration. The Queen, however, locked eyes with the man. And, without warning, the Queen started to take her tithe from him.

Again, he fell to his knees as 9.9 years were taken from him, added to the 11 the Queen took when he was seventeen. He was born with the potential to live for 110 years, but he would only make it to 30, as ten percent of that potential was taken for each year. But, of course, those years were only the start.

He felt ten percent of his will and wits sucked from him as fear replaced defiance. Not unlocking their gaze, the Queen’s deft fingers started to play with his fiancée’s flowing sex, expanding it with each pass. His betrothed was cooing in adoration as she craned to wantonly wrap her arms around the Queen’s neck. He watched her tight dripping hole slowly being expertly expanded. His future wife lewdly squirmed on the Queen’s rock hard log. The girl’s whole weight easily rested on its immensity as the Queen fit more and more of her flickering fingers inside of the ever-widening chasm. 

In the middle of this, his fiancée looked over at her future husband as if remembering him for the first time. Suddenly, as if the Queen had been waiting for this, the groom felt his body shrink by ten percent. His legs, arms, and chest became that much less as his height decreased by six inches. The Queen did a double bicep pose as she swelled with his potential, letting his future wife be suspended by just by the strength of her elephantine phallus; the girl’s legs wrapped around its girth for balance. The Queen’s muscles proliferated as she lowered her monstrous arms. She then took the virgin by the chin and, with salacious intent, she tilted the young girl’s lips to hers. The Queen’s pornographic tongue filled the smaller woman's mouth, expertly darting and stimulating the girl as her future husband watched. 

They locked lips, until the Queen pried the adoring girl’s face off her own. Again holding the younger girl’s chin, she forced her head and intense stare to turn and be affixed to her deflated future husband. The Queen’s prodigious testicles swayed slightly below the obscene tableau. 
Suddenly, the groom felt his own nutsack under his erect member start to shrink. Ten percent of his potency was taken and added to the Queen’s mighty capacity. Her balls swelled and overfilled with innumerable sperm. For countless eons every year the Queen had taken ten percent of the fertility of each male in the Kingdom; her sexual potential was beyond limitless. As his balls shrunk, hers grew and her cyclopean cyclops started to drool. Her precum didn’t stop as it puddled on the floor, becoming more than he could ejaculate in a month. And his was incomparable to its potency. There was no doubt his bride would be with child from today, the only question was the number, for it was not unheard of for some newlyweds to have quintuplets.  Each year over the ages the Queen’s virility had increased as potency of all males in the Kingdom decreased. His wife would be very pregnant, and by the time she gave birth and recovered, the Queen would be back to take what was hers again. His wife would be enthralled in the endless cycle with the ever-increasing vitality of the Queen.

Throughout this, the Queen had been continuing to work his future wife’s gushing gash. Now the Queen’s oversize fist had worked its way into her dripping tunnel, still much smaller than the head of the Queen’s whopping whopper. But, it seemed the Queen thought her prey was ready. Turning her around, the Queen moved his betrothed to tip of the monster. She was going to fuck his future wife suspended in air by the Queen’s superlative strength. 

For a breathless moment, the Queen held his floundering future wife, posed to be penetrated by the impossibly massive oozing trunk. His future lover begged with her body and eyes, if not her intelligible words, to be impaled on its absurd length; her resolve to be his faded away in unrestrained lust.

The Queen locked eyes with him again, as she skewered the girl, forever taking her virginity.

With just the head of the enormous prick inside her, the girl’s large eyes went wide with shock. Screaming from the uncontrollable sensations coursing through it, her body contorted around the intrusion. Slowly, never breaking her gaze from the future husband, the Queen irrevocably pushed more of her shamelessly large rod into the maiden. The future husband could see the hefty shaft move unopposed into his bride. Slowly, deliberately, the Queen moved her massive hips back and forth, pushing more and more of her length into his slim bride,  moving her powerful hands and arms up the girl’s frame to force her down the Queen’s tree trunk. 

His future wife’s expression changed from shock to pain to elation. He watched her spasm repeatedly as crescendo after crescendo crushed her will and shook her frame. More and more of the tremendous trunk crawled into the girl, past her cervix. The girl was crying now in the pleasure beyond pain, the pure passion. He could see the bulk of the thing’s head penetrate his future wife womb as she squealed, her mouth wide in galvanized pleasure. Deeper and deeper into her the thing went, irrevocably deforming and stretching her insides. She would never be a tight virgin again. 

After what seemed like decades, the beast was fully inside his future wife. Her stomach completely contorted. Then the fucking began in earnest. The Queen gave out a demonic howl of her own as his future wife bobbed and rebounded, writhing like a speared dolphin. The young girl hugged herself as her breasts bounced and body vibrated, cumming again and again, the climaxes playing and mixing across her contorted face.
Just as the intercourse seemed to reach its height, the Queen again locked eyes with the dumbfounded man. As she did, he felt his erect member shrink by ten percent, length and grith. His future wife’s eyes went wide as the monster raging inside of her expanded. Even that marginal change was enough to send her to fresh heights of ecstasy. She let out a shriek that cracked the windows of the small home.

At the same time the Queen let out an animistic bellow, her massive balls contracting as she finally climaxed. But, the Queen didn’t stop as the salaciously conjoined duo came to the floor, his future wife beneath the climaxing Queen. Her boiling balls shot load after load into his half-conscious bride as the Queen’s bulk covered the smaller girl. The Queen’s cock was too thick and the girl’s cervix could not expand further, so the deluge had nowhere to go. The groom watched in wide-eye horror as his future wife’s abdomen swelled from the incoming torrent. Unbridled gallons of the most potent baby batter poured into the thin girl, as her large eyes rolled in her lolling head. He would swear he could see the Queen’s nuts deflating as his betrothed’s belly inflated.

After minutes of this debased debauchery, the flow subsided, his bride’s consciousness well and truly gone. The Queen seemed to wait a moment as if to push the last of her potency into the overwhelmed girl. Pulling her thick monolith out of the unconscious girl, a flood of cum coming with it, she pushed off of the girl's chest as she grunted to her feet. As she touched the girl, ten percent of the bride’s breast size, life expectancy, wits, will, and beauty flowed into the growing Queen. Up and up she seemed to rise as she ascended to her full height. Forever more than she was, a goddess to her people. 

She looked at the defeated groom, and down at the wasted, defaced bride. By this rite they were now wed. The husband came to the side of his wife, trying to get some kind of reaction from the despoiled virgin. But, she was still within the throes of the overpowering event. Potent cum was still discharging from the ruined girl as she lazily looked at nothing. The husband knew by the time his ravaged wife recovered from this ordeal, the Queen would be back for more. 


By the time the decimated husband tore his eyes away from his decimated wife, the Queen had already moved on to her next appointment.

Edited by: Michael-Leonard

 

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"The Queen" is still my favorite story, probably of all time. There is so much potential there for a longer series - I would like to attempt it at some point, providing the author is OK with it. I note that on DeviantArt he sort of renounced title but still - he may not feel inclined to allow others to build on his excellent work.