VigoRx - Ch1p4 - Experimental Group
VigoRxChapter 1 - The Get TogetherPart 4 - Experimental GroupIn Brett's Living RoomMichael teases a tip of his tongue to taste the precum splotch. Running a thumb along the fabric that contains the bent underbelly of Grant's briefs confined prick. Cautiously, but playfully, he teases lips along the tight wrapped shaft, until he can hardly bear it and sucks at the dome of precum building at the tip. Grant's unconscious head rolls and groans, as Michael's tongue savors the flavor running down his throat and cocks a brow curiously at the odd warmth coming with it.He feels his heart course in his chest, and with rapid abandon, his pants tent with his full length, crunching a wince as he abruptly needs to set it free. Michael's impressive ten inches juts to touch the love seat cushion. A vein maddeningly pumps his cock to its fullest width of a modest inch, slender but long. He watches that vein twist with each rush of blood. He doesn't usually get this hard anymore, at least not since he was a teen growing that unruly length. Then again, those were the years he thought Grant was still flirting with him, so maybe he reasoned it was because of the burly stocky Irishman he was now taking advantage of.
Shrugging it off, Michael tugs Grant's waist band down until he sees most the nice shaft, a bit of hefty girth on a solid average length, like he had always guessed. He edges nearer until he can feel the heat off Grant's throbbing head at his lips. He is finally going to touch it, and not through a wrestling uniform during a school match, not through a swimming suit while summer break horsing around. He is finally going skin on skin. He hadn't made a solid move on Grant since the fateful nice rejection junior year after that wrestling boner in his parent's basement. Now he is on his knees nicely molesting his slumbering childhood crush. Grant's hips press forward, the head striking his tempted lips.A swelling breath and groan grabs Michael's eyes up to Grant's sleepy approving smirk. Grant's green eyes slide open slowly, accenting that cocky grin that always makes Michael melt inside. Grant shifts enthusiastically, tugging down the jeans and briefs along strong thighs then a hand aims his prick at Michael's mouth. Michael sucks it as deep as Grant's lap allows and pulls back to bob on the end expertly. Grant rocks a few half-slumbering slow humps into Michael's mouth then unexpectedly gushes.
Grant's head rolls back upright, and he eyes his cock as Michael lovingly swallows and licks the glands clean. "How did you do that?" His smile showing pearls as he shudders. Michael begins to disgorge, but Grant pleads for him not to stop, adding, "I Can't believe how good this feels." His brow crunches, and his voice looses an unexpected, "hoh!" as his body rockets precum hard and fast, sending
several leaps into the back of Michael's eager throat again. Eyes flicking closed a few times in dreamy euphoria, he laughs. "Let's see what other tricks you've got," and grabs a hand to Michael's collar.Grant playfully tugs the shirt up Michael's back, dragging the giggling man a yard in the process. The shirt flies to a clump in the corner, followed by Michael's pants. Grant forces his jeans down with a quick hook of his thumbs. A couple skips and a kick, it too lands in the pile. A shirt follows. a few socks, the fourth getting torn to shreds as Grant absently paws it clear off. Michael brings his tongue up between Grant's legs, as the underwear hits the pile. A muffled voice at the bottom sings, "I will survive," from Michael's phone.
At the LabBrett's waits for the flagrant lisp to stop asking cutely to leave a message. He finally speaks with a shaky yet slightly off deep quality. "Michael, you need to call me. There's been some contamination from the lab. Try to keep your distance from John and Grant. Just lock yourself in my room until I get there. You'll be fine." Brett clicks the phone off and uncomfortably adjusts his increasingly confined and heated package.In Brett's BedThe door clicks shut followed by the lock. A shadow stumbles across the room through the dark. His chest feels packed tight. His legs feel near bursting. Worse, what he just snuck away from has his groin on the edge of raging. Every part of him feels engorged and thick. Just reaching for the lamp nearly tears his right pit open. Light on, John turns to the mirror. "What the hell?" he mutters. His face has a good second day stubble going, despite shaving this morning. The shirt was sure enough actually tight, not twisted or bunched in some off way. He was filling it like he just got done with a chest day at the gym. It wasn't just his shirt, though. His pants were hugging him in almost explicit ways.
The home phone rings. Distractedly John eyes the caller ID ringing up as Brett. Reluctantly he answers, his voice rolling out unexpectedly deep, "Hello?" John clasps his throat in confusion.A familiar but low voice answers back, "Hello?""Brett?" He asks, not quite sure.The man stammers familiarly. "Yes. Who is this?""You grow some balls, Brett? What's with the deep voice?""John! Oh.. ok." There was a moment's pause. "Um.. some weird stuff going. Little hard to explain. Uh... How are you feeling?"His body is hot and is fighting off an erection. In the mirror his shirt, that had overhung his beltline by a few inches earlier, is sneaking the occasional gap. His reflection skims the top of the mirror now. A concerned tone in his voice, he admits, "Something seems a little off here, too." Noticing a flit of fuzz, he lifts his shirt
to see a good smattering of fur along his treasure trail and some devastating abdominals. "I'm seriously starting to worry I'm turning into the wolfman."In the Living RoomMichael instinctively drags his body up into the kiss, causing Grant to moan into their mouths as Michael's seven sunk to ten deep. Michael presses into Grant's firm ass, taking him to the hilt. He relaxes a couple inches free, causing Grant's lips to momentarily turn away to groan. Back to his base, and Grant bites his lip to muffle a quiet whimper. Michael drives a few gentle thrusts into his friend, who lets loose an unusually low moan in approval. Michael begins an earnest fucking, a good half of his whole length back and forth into his friend.
Grant's head rears up in approving gasps. His voice jilts into swears and praises. "Holy shit!" His hands clasping to his turgid shaft, as another release crashes out. Everything starts to pulse and pound to the throbbing of his cock. He cries out deep pleasure, his voice plummeting as his chest barrels out.In Brett's RoomJohn's breaths come quicker. An urgency raising in his own voice, John asks, "So your saying if I just start rubbing my packed cock through my jeans right now, I'll bust through these clothes?"A grunt comes across the phone. Brett's voice murmurs a needy, "fuck." In a deeper timbre, he adds "yeah."In the LabBrett absently kneads the end of the lump, breath abated and silently listening to the little gasps and groans mount. John almost whispers across the phone, "God this feels good, Brett."Brett looses his own grunt. Warmth strikes the inside fabric of his pant-leg and rolls down his quad and along his calf. The cloth darkens and his palm starts to wet and make pops, smacks and slurps as he rubs his release along the end of his cock with a moan.
"You feeling this, too." John's voice rumbles.Brett stifles a cry with a bite to his lip, and presses out a simple, "yeah," and humps into his palm to the pleasure burning between his thighs.A sound of a tear crosses the phone. Brett sits up,. "Fuck, Brett. Something is happening." Another tear. "Oh my God, Brett."Brett's hand quickens. He eyes his grip rolling along the slick end of about eight inches of fabric constrained meat. He then sees his forearm. The width was beginning to split his cuffs. His once slender fingers look like they belong to a builder. Inside the sleeve, his biceps and triceps were taking out the slack of the shirt. The sound of snapping seams, his mind vividly imagine the inches of John breaking free.A groan in the phone grows suddenly distant, and the speaker emits a thud. Grant struggles his ear tight to the headset to hear.In
Brett's BedroomJohn collapses down beside the dropped phone. He trembles in tension. A seam along his shoulder bursts. Striated muscle swells through. Relief races over him as his belt and seat break the constraint, and with a long zip the inner seams begin to pop free.
In the Living RoomGrant growls, an unearthly deepness to it. Michael's grip to his shoulder looses and slips unmaintained to Grant's hips. "Grant?" He asks concerned, dismounting and distancing himself. The Irishman only answers with a reel of his head back and a cry of extreme pleasure and then confusion. He gasps deep, his back pops and widens to the long breath, and he lets his body slide to its knees, lost in sensation.Sweat forming a sheen along his muscle creases. In a spasm of his gut, he crunches against the couch. Another pulse strikes him, pushing out a weary moan. The third comes unrelenting, and he clings to the upholstery, it whining and then splintering under his intensifying grip. The furniture withers beneath him. No it was shrinking. His temples throb. he sees red, but he can still make it out, the room is getting smaller. He labors back to sit into a kneel, head drawn about the room then down to look into his lap. He murmurs disbelief. Every muscle bulges along him, to that, every inch of him is bulging. He watches and realizes. No, not bulging. Growing.
Grant's shoulders tense towards his ear, his neck muscles bunching thick to the strain. His back begins to arch into it. The tightness of the neck moves down, pulling more of the surfaces into mounds of musculature. To Michael, it almost seems like his strength was pooling upwards, dragging each muscle to stand bristled against gravity. The figure of his friend bunches and bulks wider in his vision, increasingly, impossibly, filling it. Michael stifles a girlish cry.His body lands with a crash. Rivulets of sweat jostle then roll along the creases of pectoral, neck and abdominal muscle, swollen big. His body pulses, veins livening along surface of the hardening parts. Grant drags his eyes open and locks stares with Michael, horrified yet awestruck and frozen staring upon him. "What's going on?" Grant rumbles out in a bass tone. Confusion is stricken across Grant's face. Michael kneels and plants a comforting palm to his shoulder. Grant's eyes screw tight for a moment in a grimace of pain then pleasure. Blinking back open, the green has taken on an edge of hazel. He mutters a, "fuck," his canines gleaming thicker. He reaches down and grips at the source, and his brow screws tight and thick, as his body begins to sway into his palm.
Michael saw the changes, slight yet somehow profound. His friend's features always playful were losing what little hints of civility he ever had. A broadening in the jaw as he clenches it. A thickening of the brow as it furrows. An
unexpected revel of excitement runs through Michael, as Grant's face lifts to a devious toothy smile. Something animal was now prominent in him. He could see it wrestling to dominance. The playfulness with which he grips and feels over his thickening torso, the mischievous Puck in Grant was in control.Grant waves a bat of a cock at Michael. His voice roils, "Care to join me?"In the Lab's OfficeBrett sighs relief as he tugs apart the tear for the final couple inches. His cock flings up and slaps his gut heavy and pushing up increasingly towards his pecs. The rip continues unaided down his right leg, torn apart by mounding flesh of his quad and calf. Brett strokes along his thickening prick, while his leg unsheathes itself leaving tatters on his thickening trunks. Where they meet, two increasingly pendulous balls churn to release onto growing mountains of abdominal and chest muscle peaks.
In the Living RoomMichael lets his head drop back against the wall and rock with Grant's animalistic thrusts. The wall wicks his back's sweat and heat, while Grant masterfully fucks his massive tool into him.In Brett's BedroomJohn stands and looks down into the mirror. All he can make out at a time is a furred slab of pec, a few mounded abdominals or the good foot and a third of thick heavy shaft he strokes. He is speckled, he notices. Dark and light circles and splotches of skin shone in spattered pools along his body. The odd trait from his mixed heritage used to be confined to his big dick, earning him the nickname appaloosa from his exes. Now it crossed his body just like the painted horse namesake. He found himself liking it. His hand comes into view, almost as long as the full sized mirror is wide. He feels the sculpted, splotchy edges of his rock like muscles, then dives it down to bring up into view the boulders hanging between his legs. The marveling pauses, as wild sounds cause John to pick back up the toy like phone. A commanding, "Fuck!" echoes into John's ear, followed by guttural lusting noises and uncanny deepening.
In the BedroomMichael gasps, moans, shouts and swoons. He can't tell if he has cum, there's too much sweat and lather and his sensations were drowning in euphoria anyways. Liquid runs down along his legs, wrapped to Grant's rutting furred trunks. The furrowed brow beast pumping him full to the hilt is nearing his, though. He had hoisted him off the wall a moment before, and the tempo was now frantic, fucking him in spastic jilts. Grant's head drops back, and he almost howls at the sky when it comes. Unbelievable heat builds deep inside. The liquid wrapping down his leg gets thicker and copious. Grant roars and seeds his mate full till it rolls down the insides of his furred thighs
to his ankles.In the BedroomBrett's voice drops lower and lower, to John's awed surprise. The speaker can't handle the depth. John couldn't picture what could be making the noise at the other side, something giant, primeval, powerful. His lust at the deep moans of the thing had him unbridled swallowing the end of his cock and drinking at his own essence in crazed need. The godly bellow rattles the phone dead. John fills his wanting swallowing throat till he gasps and lets it spakle the room.
In the LabThe enormous silhouette through the office shades rears up. A euphoric cry rattles beakers and sets off sensors into ringing errors. Bob and Jean, in breath still wonder, see the shutters get struck and violently dance. The window whites in bursts, washes down in waves. The roll of the deep voice trails, silhouette slumps. The two scientists stand slow as a slumbering snore alerts them that the beast is immobile. They try and ignore the raging hardons that hailed the beast moments before, and set their minds to turning off all the complaining sensors.