Tumescitron 4000 - Week 2
#4 of Busy Paws: Writing Workshop
"Test 42B, Tumescitron 4000 on garden tomato"
The recording device in Boris' hand fizzed, betraying its age. The lab's funding was running low, and they didn't have much to spare for the new assistant's pet project. But he knew this was going to be an important breakthrough in the fight against world hunger. Soon the world would know his name!
The scrawny wolfhound adjusted the knobs until a green dot of light centered on the tomato he had pilfered from his mother's fridge. It was all he could get since the lab head denied his request for testing materials. The lanky canine checked and double-checked the dials in the side of his invention, tweaking the intensity knob slightly before he was satisfied that all was ready.
He held his breath, and pushed the button... and nothing happened.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Boris smashed a fist down on the table. This was the last test he could afford to pay for out of his own pocket; he needed PROOF that his technology was valid or no one was going to give him money. Through the cloud of his misery, the canine noticed that lights on his machine were flashing but he paid them no heed, such was the level of his despair.
He had stood up, ready to abandon the project for good and get back to sterilizing test tubes, when the beeping started. Boris reached for the power plug but, as he leaned forward, the tubing on the side of the Tumescitron burst free from its slot and sprayed chemicals all over the wolfhound's crotch.
The dog fell to the floor as heat began to emanate from his groin. The rising temperature caused the hairs at the back of his neck to stand up, and he panted in an effort to cool down. Finally, in a desperate bid to counteract the burning in his nether region, Boris ripped open the clasp of his pants and tore them from his legs.
It was at that moment he froze, for bearing his crotch revealed that the heat was not the only thing about his body that was increasing. His balls, normally the size of eggs, had swollen to the proportion of tennis balls... no, grapefruits... no, bowling balls! His sheath too had elongated and thickened, the change not confined to the dog's testes. Boris could feel himself beginning to get hard in response to the warmth and the strange sensations in his enlarging testicles. It felt like invisible fingers were running along the skin of his sac, and non-existent muzzles were breathing against his sensitive sheath.
Boris leaned back onto the cool laminate floor of the lab and thrust his hips into the air, futilely straining his now fully-hard length. He could feel the steady expansion of his testicles as they rested on the floor, spreading and moving as they surpassed beach balls in size. His cock, now free of the constraints of the sheath, was widening and lengthening at a similar rate. The twitching member was now comparable to his forearm, and it bobbed against his belly fur. A spurt of pre bubbled out of his tip as the tickle of the hound's chest fur teased his incredibly sensitive length.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Boris grasped his rock-hard member with both hands. The simple act of touching his massive meat caused the canine's whole body to tense up: it was as if each magnification in size had also doubled the number of nerves in the already-sensitive organ. Every long stroke of his colossal cock felt more pleasurable than an entire session of self-love previously had. Fat, hot drops of pre were now falling into his chest, where they soaked into his fur and burned against his skin.
Boris now needed both hands to grasp his gigantic girth, and he pumped up and down on the substantial shaft. His cock felt like a live fish as it seemed to flex and jump of its own accord. The wolfhound could feel his load sloshing around in the large sacs his balls had become. They tightened and tensed with every caress, edging closer and closer to their part in the finale of this twisted show.
The frazzled dog felt as if he were was standing on the precipice of a towering cliff; the desire to come was so strong, but fear of the unknown made him hesitate. But soon the appeal from his crotch overrode any message from the brain, and Boris frantically pumped away at his meat. There was a moment, as the hound flung himself over the metaphorical edge, where he felt suspended. Time seemed to stop for a few precious seconds, and he could hear the thrub of his heartbeat in his eardrums. Every sensation, from the burn of his lungs with each ragged breath to the crack of his toes as he curled them tight, was magnified and imprinted in his brain.
The rush of his come as it boiled up the dog's length made him whimper, and he shut his eyes against its onslaught. Shot after shot of scalding seed painted his chest and neck with ropes of white as the canine's massive balls were emptied of their prodigious load. After what seemed like ages, the flow slowed to a dribble and Boris let his head fall back onto the linoleum. All of his muscles relaxed as he melted onto the floor. The only sound that echoed through the lab was the drip of his semen into the puddle in his fur.
"Screw world hunger..." he chuckled.