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_I'm trying to work on writing more consistently, so here's my second lemon--this time about one of my furry crushes, Stitch (a.k.a. Experiment 626). Even though concepts of human morality probably don't apply to genetically-created beings, Stitch is still an adult in this story. There are a few Tantalog (Stitch's language) words in here so I've included a quick primer on those.

ika: very; big or large Jhua Baquaa Spubuta: air freshener; literally "good toilet smell" matyr: cousin chathis: slang for testicles; literally "eggs" patooki: butt; general insult_

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Floorboards creaking beneath him, Stitch shuffled about the unusually quiet house. Ordinarily the cacophony of his family talking, arguing, and playing filled the rooms, but not now. Lilo was on an overnight class trip--a trip that her teacher had stated adamantly wouldn't allow pets! Nani had flown to a business conference on one of the other islands, while Pleakley had badgered Jumba into touring a collection of odd roadside attractions on the mainland.

To worsen the situation, Lilo's final words to him as she climbed aboard the bus were to stay inside the house. There was a new dog catcher in the neighborhood and his friend didn't want to rush home to rescue him from the pound yet again. That meant the blue-furred alien was alone and imprisoned at home for a whole two days.

It had been less than two hours the boredom was already setting in!

Despite having 500 channels of intergalactic cable (pirated by the resident "evil" genius), he had already flipped through the Plorgonarian soap operas and Earth game shows. Lilo's stash of comic books and manga were a bit stale; he'd already read each of the books at least twice. He'd even gone so far as to flip through a romance novel left by Nani on the bathroom counter, but a genetically-designed creature could only handle so many references to "chiseled abs" and "heaving bosoms".

Left with nothing else to do, he'd resorted to drifting about the empty house, grousing in lonely annoyance.

Stitch's meanderings eventually brought him to the small stairway that led up to Jumba and Pleakley's room. The corners of his mouth curled up as a fountain of mischievous ideas sprung into his mind; poking around in his creator's experiments, while frowned-upon by the scientist, might lend some excitement to his otherwise dull day.

And even though he was good now, well--an experiment literally created to make mischief would never be an angel. Besides, he'd be ika careful not to blow up the house or set anything on fire.

Preemptively resigning himself to the scolding that would inevitably come from this, he scuttled up the steps, pushed open the door, and darted through, kicking it closed behind him.

The bedroom was mostly tidy, but even with his obsessive tidiness, Pleakley couldn't keep up with Jumba's absolute disregard for mundane acts like cleaning. Stacks of notebooks and discarded Hawaiian shirts were strewn about, islands of clutter amidst a sea of order. Stitch paid this no mind, though, and instead beelined for the far end of the room, where a chaotic mess of weird devices and other scientific gadgetry surrounded the genius's home laboratory.

The alien scampered toward the makeshift lab, clambering up onto the blackened workbench to scan over its contents. Futuristic (by Earth standards) bits of electrical components, ozone-crisped circuit boards, and twisted jumbles of cables littered the surface; a row of beakers filled with strangely-colored chemicals sat on the rear of the table. Sticky notes and labels scrawled with Jumba's messy Tantalog handwriting stuck to most of the, identifying the item's purpose.

He picked up a small box with a button on it and read the attached note: Jhua Baquaa Spubuta. An air freshener for the bathroom? "Ech," he muttered in miffed disgust as he dropped the uninteresting device back onto the wooden table.

His grunts became increasingly perturbed as he examined and then discarded a series of boring gizmos. A television remote that controlled the channels telepathically and a fire extinguisher that doubled as a whipped cream dispenser--boring, boring, boring! A ray gun of some sort at first seemed promising, but the note on it said it was broken. Frustrated, he tossed it back onto the worktop.

The gun bounced hard on the scarred wood; the impact apparently activated the device, and a beam of purplish light burst from the muzzle to strike Stitch in the chest. Surprised by the flare of light, he yelped and stumbled back into one of the racks of test tubes before falling on his rump. Something behind him shattered and a sweetly pungent red fog surrounded him, leaving him sputtering.

He coughed and waved his hands about, wafting away the sickly-sweet gas. He wasn't particularly concerned for his own well-being. Jumba had made him nearly invulnerable, after all, but taking a missile without flinching was one thing; his diminutive human friend's looks of disappointment, on the other hand, cut straight to his heart.

Inspecting the damage, the blue experiment clapped his clawed hands and cackled with glee. While one vial had shattered, the remainder still hung securely on the rack. The former evil genius might not even miss the broken tube, if it wasn't an important chemical!

Stitch picked through the fragments of glass until he found the shard bearing the label on it. It read "323 Aphrodisiac". He scratched his head; Jumba was experimenting with matyr Hunkahunka's venom? The love-based experiment had been a big problem to capture, and now the former evil genius was trying to use its venom as some sort of sexual enhancement aid?

He probably meant to secretly dose Pleakley with the stuff; the prank was right up the inventor's alley, and despite its lewd nature, it was in line with some of the other risqué activities in which the couple regularly engaged. Closed doors and insulation didn't stop Stitch's keen senses from hearing (and smelling) pretty much everything that went on in the house. That time the former galactic agent had hooked up the hulking genius to some sort of milking machine, for instance--over the clanking swish of the device, he'd heard Jumba's pleasured gasps and eventually exhausted whimpers as he came repeatedly for hours.

Where'd that come from? The blue alien shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, but found that any normal thought twisted and morphed into some libidinous fantasy. It had to be the aphrodisiac; he thought he'd have a few minutes but apparently it worked fast! Already his thoughts were sluggish, lazily drifting through a pink mist of arousal to emerge on the other side as a debauched daydream.

He was going to have to work quickly to fix this, or he'd wind up giving into his lusts, writhing around on the bedroom carpet stroking his . . .

"Naga!" Stitch exclaimed out loud as he shook his head violently. He had to fight this! Noticing a half-empty bottle of water sitting at the end of the workbench, he snatched it up and desperately poured its contents over his face. Experiment 323's effects were counteracted by splashing water in the victim's face, so hopefully this would take care of it; as the tepid water dripped down his cheeks, he wondered idly if shooting a load of hot, creamy seed onto his face would have the same effect.

The random, obscene thought thwarted the alien's hopes; obviously Jumba's modifications had rendered the venom waterproof. Perhaps there was some other antidote? Fighting against the currents of desire that swirled through his body, he spotted a notebook lying on a shelf above the worktable and snagged it, flipping hastily to the most recent pages.

• Yes! These were the scientist's notes, and if a cure was available, he'd find it in here:
• · Remember to pack for trip, leaving June 18 - Ech, but Pleakley wants this so I go
• · Visit thrift store for more Hawaiian shirts; sale on Sunday!
• · Check engine of spaceship; weird knock when accelerating
• · Tweak settings on dimension ray; beam only affects one part--not what I intended
• · Reduce strength 323 gas; 48 hours is far too long. Get photo of Pleakley when he realizes "cold shower" does no good now, heh >:)
• · Ask Nani to pick up more grenadine and cola

Stitch didn't bother reading further: Jumba had intentionally removed the counteragent from his experimental aphrodisiac. Even worse, it seemed that the libido-magnifying effects of the venom might last two full days! If that was true, he'd spend the next 48 hours fondling his throbbing erection and fingering his tight tailhole . . .

Pinching himself, the blue alien tried to fight off the bawdy thoughts, but the weak moan that escaped his mouth and a tingling in his sheath told him he was losing the battle.

At the least, he didn't want to throw himself into a lewd frenzy here in the lab; there was no telling what other experiment he might trigger while in the throes of 323's venom. He out of the lab-bedroom into the dark, narrow hallway, then frantically looked around the empty house; he needed privacy, but where? He didn't want to get Lilo's room messy, and Nani would toss him in the ocean if he played around in her room. The kitchen and living room were definitely out; he didn't want to give the mailman or some wandering neighbor a heart attack if they happened to peek in the windows.

Wait--the attic! The family rarely went up there, and although it was dark and musty, it was also secluded, and he could make it inaccessible if he blocked the hatch. Decision made, Stitch skittered up the wall and onto the ceiling, then ran to the hatch and yanked it open. Scampering into the gloom of the unfinished attic, he jammed the stairs so that they couldn't be opened. Now he could finally give into the erotic cravings pouring through him.

Stitch leaned his head against an old ottoman, staring down at the aching erection bobbing demandingly between his legs. The bluish-purple length glistened in the dim light as pre dripped from the tapered tip to ooze down onto his fuzzy sheath and balls

Without further hesitation, the experiment wrapped a hand around his dick and gave in to his desires, fucking into his clutching paw hard and fast. Precum splattered on the floor in front of him; the slippery fluids coated his palms as he humped furiously into his tight grip. The small nubs lining the underside of the shaft pulsed in time with his heartbeat, swelling slowly as his excitement mounted.

After only a few minutes of thrusting into the soft clutch of his handpaw, Stitch felt the tingling pressure building in his groin; every brush of the fleshy fins flared out along the underside of his shaft caused that boiling need to surge higher. The claws of his free hand tore into the fabric of the footstool as the scalding pressure built to its peak. .

And then the alien shifted one of his feet into the puddle of copious, slippery pre that had collected in front of him.

The experiment's leg shot out from under him, sending him tumbling roughly onto the floor. He let out a squeak of pain as his sensitive testicles were smooshed between his body and the rough wood, the breaker of pain smashing apart his impending release. Growling out a string of curses, Stitch leapt back to his feet to rub gently at and inspect his injured gonads.

The pain faded quickly, replaced by a sense of confusion: His chathis looked big--shockingly big! He was normally quite compact in that area, smaller than would be normal for even his short body. It was an intentional design decision by Jumba; those bits were rather vulnerable, and having such a vulnerability on an organic weapon hadn't been sensible.

Now, though? Each orb was the size of a kiwi--and they were visibly growing! Staring at his package with lust-clouded concern, he watched as the twin globes expanded to the size of eggs and just kept swelling, the skin of his fuzzy sac stretching to fit the bloating balls

As his nuts grew to the size of oranges, he remembered another one of the scrawled reminders in Jumba's notebook: The broken "dimension ray", and something about "only affecting one part". The blue alien had assumed a "dimension ray" had something to do with moving between different worlds, but it must have meant physical dimensions--a growth ray, that only affected the target's testicles!

Interrupting his thoughts, the alien felt a gurgling sensation coming from his enlarged balls; the grapefruit-sized globes were visibly churning within their girthy sac. A moment later, a torrential gush of liquid jetted from the pointed glans of his cock; the geyser sprayed at least a foot into the air before raining down onto his body, and even though the jet was only precum, it rocked his body with bliss. He had to get off!

Stitch's tongue hung limply from the corner of his mouth as he grasped his member and pistoned his handpaw up and down the chubby rod. He stared past his quivering dick at his still-bloating ballsack, spreading his legs wider to accommodate the melon-sized spheres. It might have just been the aphrodisiac, but watching his junk grow to such huge proportions turned him on more than a little.

As he worked his tool, he imagined what he could do with his new equipment. It would be fun to invite Reuben over, for instance: The shocked look on his sandwich-obsessed cousin's face would be worth it all on its own, but he also knew from prior experience that the little guy was a size queen. It wouldn't take much convincing until the yellow alien was worshiping his giant package, licking and massaging the over-sized nuts until Stitch drenched him with his load.

That lascivious vision washed him over the edge; his whole body tensed and a howl of bliss tore from his throat. A tsunami of sticky spooge jetted from his steel-hard dick, geysering clear to ceiling to splatter on the wooden beams; the warm balljuice then showered back down onto the spasming alien.

And that was just the first volley! Through slit-eyed rapture he watched as a visible bulge squeezed its way up his shaft to erupt from the tip; the deluge of sticky cum caught him in the chest and face, painting him white with spunk. That was followed by a third, then a fourth, and a fifth gusher.

By the time the hurricane of sensations subsided, the little alien was on the verge of blacking out. He tiredly lifted his head and gazed about to find that his orgasm had wrecked the attic; every box, crate, and chest were coated and dripping. Even his own body was glazed in white; only a few patches of his blue fur were visible through the plastering of seed.

It was going to take hours to clean this mess up! Darn Jumba for making that ray increase both size and production! Maybe he could convince Swirly to hypnotize someone else into doing it. If he was lucky, he could trick Gantu into doing it! It'd be both hilarious and arousing to see the big, buff patooki down on his hands and knees, muscular bubble butt thrust into the air, as he lapped up all this alien cream like a hungry dog . . .

A spattering of fluid splashed onto Stitch's face as his still-hard cock quivered at the erotic mental image. He could actually hear his nuts gurgling in his distended scrotum; he realized that his need was far from relieved. Even with the veritable tsunami he had just spilled, his nuts had only swelled larger; the beachball-sized spheres seethed and jiggled within his prodigious, semen-drenched sac

A moan of tormented bliss slipped from his lips Stitch realized he was going to have to keep on wanking until he had drained those spunk balloons. With a sigh of resignation, the experiment rubbed the top of his mammoth sac before gripping his dick in his slimy handpaw to continue jerking off.

Even with the potent aphrodisiac driving him on, his member was still incredibly sensitive from his recent climax, and each caress of was painful bliss; he writhed in the pool of musky splooge with each stroke, wishing that he could stop but driven to keep pumping by 323's venom. Precum gushed in a constant stream from his throbbing cockhead, soaking his paws as it flowed down into the growing ocean of ball juice on the attic floor.

Despite the excessive stimulation, the wave of his orgasm took less time to peak, and within a few minutes the roiling sensations crested. His swollen prick twitched, space-like head flaring as the first fresh spout of seed spurted into the air. The alien whimpered through gritted teeth, riding the tidal wave of euphoric anguish that gushed through him.

As the buzzing gale of his climax dwindled, Stitch realized that he was now sitting in a lake of cooling jism; it seemed this release was even more voluminous than the first! The tiny part of his pleasure-flooded mind not obsessed with thoughts of fucking, sucking, and cumming worried that he might drown in his own spooge, but the monsoon of lust quickly swept away that concern as he continued to flog his abused cock.

At least it looked like his balls had stopped expanding, but not until they'd ballooned to a mammoth girth; each hefty globe was easily the size of his own body, which, while small, was still more massive than the biggest pair that he'd had ever seen. Even without his enhanced hearing, Stitch was certain that the bubbling and sloshing in his turgid scrotum would be audible. And he knew that without his augmented strength, the twin cum-blimps would have anchored him to the spot.

He hoped that he could drain them back down to a manageable size before his family returned home.

With a sigh that morphed swiftly into a wordless groan of need, the horny alien continued furiously fapping. The only noises in the spunk-drenched attic were the schlicking sound of his handpaw massaging his dick, cries of orgasm, and the patter of cum showering back down into the growing ocean of jizz.

Sating his lusts for an entire day would be both ecstatic and torturous, and Stitch figured that by the time he was done, he wouldn't get aroused again for a solid month. And yet, some part of him wondered if Jumba might make him another dose of the lust venom and loan him that growth ray the next time that the family was out of town .