Chelsea Disaster Pt. 08

Poor Millie Martin. One of the biggest hypers on record and a folk hero to many young hyper futas. She slept on her back one fateful night and got smothered by her own dick. This was in the days before size suppressors had been formulated properly for class three hypers. Millie's medication didn't stop her dick from growing to unsafe sizes, it just canceled her hyper invulnerability, making her susceptible to the crushing weight of her own member.

The manager unlocked the double doors of the Jasmine Dream suite and stepped aside with a sweeping bow.

Chelsea and Lisa's jaws would have hit the floor if their monster cocks weren't in the way. The room was huge! Everything sparkled. A bubbling fountain whispered quietly in the center of the magnificent space.

"Holy shit, is this fountain," Chelsea sniffed, "champagne?"

"If it's not to your liking, we can bring up a nice Chablis," May offered.

"No, no, me likey!" Chelsea rubbed her hands together greedily.

"Look at this bed!" Lisa called from one of the adjoining bedrooms. She fell into the plush mattress with a grateful sigh. Within minutes, she was asleep.

"I think this will be of particular interest to you." May escorted Chelsea into a palatial bathroom, where one wall was dominated by a puckered silicone orifice as tall as a grown man.

"No fucking way!" Chelsea's eyes shined. "You have--"

"Your own personal hyper-relief station." The manager nodded.

"Has Jasmine Dream used this?" asked Chelsea.

"Many times," May answered. "She says it was her favorite relief machine in the whole city."

"I'm totally gonna break this thing in later." Chelsea ran a hand along the rubbery circumference of the gigantic orifice. She suddenly yawned hugely. "But right now I think I need sleep."

"Of course." May nodded. "Please, don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

"Maybe some ice for my dick?" Chelsea winced as her dick shrank fractionally again from the residual size-suppressor in her system.

"I'll see that it's brought up right away," said the manager. "Anything else?"

But Chelsea was already crashing so hard that she barely made it to the bed before passing out. She flopped down next to Lisa and was snoring in seconds.

May tiptoed out, closed the door quietly behind her, then bolted down the hall as fast as she could.

***

Back at Damien's mansion, Damien Benedict was drooling and rubbing his tiny boner through the fabric of his nine thousand dollar suit trousers as he watched "Hyper Wedding Fails Compilation 3" on youtube.

"Ohh, fuck yes!" Damien moaned, rocking in his seat.

On the screen, a priest was just about to pronounce a young couple "man and wife" when suddenly one of the bridesmaids popped a huge boner that she swung around wildly, knocking over the other bridesmaids and nearly crushing the bride. The scene shifted to a dance at a wedding reception. A dance floor filled with people. A few dancers started to react to a commotion just offscreen. Moments later a tidal wave of white spunk washed everyone out of sight.

"Yeah, that's the stuff," said Damien.

Damien was right on the edge of busting his own nut when there was a knock at the door. It was Elmo, the mountainous valet.

"Are the girls all settled in?" asked Damien.

Elmo nodded.

"Did May do what we asked?"

Elmo nodded again and produced a USB drive from the breast pocket of his suit. Damien snatched it eagerly and drooled over the tiny fob.

"Is this the security footage from the Royal Garden?" he asked, barely able to restrain his glee.

Elmo nodded again.

Damien plugged the drive into his computer and frantically clicked through the file path to the video taken that morning. He snickered as the hotel staff flailed frantically around, rubbing themselves "accidentally" all over Chelsea's cock and balls. Over the next several minutes, Chelsea's dick grew larger and larger, finally erupting and breaking down the wall.

Damien hurriedly pulled up the next file, which was footage from the Schleisenger wedding reception. He impatiently dragged the progress bar to the end, when the wall exploded and washed away all the guests.

"Unhhh!" Damien blew his tiny load completely hands free. He fell back in his seat with a stupid grin.

Elmo cleared his throat.

Damien sat up. "Wire May the sum we agreed upon, plus ten percent for that fabulous cumshot. I would have liked it better if her dick had actually broken through the wall, but we can always try again another time."

Elmo nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, Elmo." Damien tugged on the towering valet's coattails. "Get as much footage as you can from the Schleisenger wedding. Contact the wedding photographer, the guests, everyone with a camera. Be discreet. Father would kill me if he knew I was the one who ruined mister Schleisenger's son's wedding."

Elmo nodded and glided away.

Damien turned back to the footage of Chelsea demolishing the lobby of the Royal Garden. He rubbed his palms together as a wicked grin spread across his face.

"Oh, Chelsea, you're going to be my new favorite toy!"

***

Lisa woke up from a dream that she was being crushed by a walrus. Chelsea's walrus-sized dick lay draped across her, pinning her to the bed. Her own dick was sprawled in a long, meandering heap that coiled back on itself several times before spilling off the bed onto the floor.

"Ugh..." Lisa groaned. Her head was splitting. She needed water.

With effort, she was able to extricate herself from beneath the enormous bulk of Chelsea's flaccid cock. The great, wrinkly behemoth sank deeply into the mattress, the hoods and folds of its voluminous foreskin glistened with pungent precum and congealed spunk. Lisa felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she watched the sleeping monster.

Gathering up her dick in her arms, Lisa shambled over to the in-room bar (full-sized) and cracked open a bottle of water. She sucked it down so fast the plastic crumpled. Unsatisfied by the tiny sip, Lisa unhooked the water spigot from behind the bar and drank directly from the nozzle for several minutes.

"Holy shit, it's almost night?" Lisa blinked in disbelief as she finally caught sight of the sun setting over the Seattle skyline.

Something crinkled under Lisa's hand and she saw that a stack of new, neatly-folded underwear lay on the bar, sealed in plastic. One stack had a note on top that said "for Lisa" and the other "for Chelsea." Without even opening the plastic bags, Lisa knew the clothes would fit perfectly. She'd never felt so pampered and so creeped out at the same time. There was a rack of clothes waiting next to the door with a pair of dresses hanging from the rod.

The phone rang while Lisa was taking a shower, stirring Chelsea from her long slumber.

"Ughh, what is it?" Chelsea groaned.

"Miss Disastre! It's me, Damien!"

Chelsea rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Huh?"

"I trust you had a chance to get some rest?"

Chelsea looked around, blinking. Spotting the fading twilight through the tall window, she started. "Holy shit, it's night?"

"Almost six-thirty," said Damien. "Have you or your friend eaten dinner yet?"

"No, I uh... I just woke up, actually," said Chelsea, still groggy. What was this guy talking about?

"Excellent. How long do you need to get ready?" asked Damien.

Chelsea sniffed her armpit and recoiled at the smell. "I dunno. Two hours?"

"Perfect. I'll send Elmo with the car to meet you at eight-thirty," said Damien. "Wear the silver dress, I think it will look perfect on you."

"The silver what?" Chelsea squinted at the phone.

Click. Damien had hung up.

Chelsea dragged her walrus off the bed and waddled into the palatial bathroom where the hyper-sized relief machine hung temptingly on the wall. Her balls were as big as yoga balls and as heavy as boulders. She could feel them churning with pent-up cum, frustrated at the rude interruption from earlier that day. Lisa was still in the shower, singing a happy tune as she washed her taut buns and scrubbed under her melon-sized sack.

Chelsea looked longingly at the huge fuck machine. She imagined she could still smell Jasmine Dream's musk on it, but she knew that if she got started fucking the luxury cockmilker, it would be well over an hour before she'd be finished.

"You almost done in there?" asked Chelsea.

"Eep!" Lisa's blurred outline in the rippled glass tried frantically to cover her naughty bits. "Chelsea, is that you?"

"Sorry, yeah," answered Chelsea. "If you're almost done in there, I need you to hose me down, all this dried spunk is getting pretty rank."

"Uh, sure, sure," answered Lisa. "Just lemme rinse off."

Lisa held the detachable showerhead over her dick, rinsing it off a foot at a time until the pink python was squeaky clean. She threw it around her neck like a stole and stepped out of the shower. Chelsea blew twin jets of steam from her nose at the sight of Lisa's big, perky tits and pretty little pink nipples.

It took forty minutes but Lisa was able to wash out every nook, cranny and wrinkle of Chelsea's monstrous balls.

"Shit, we only have an hour before Damien picks us up for dinner," said Chelsea. "I haven't even put my makeup on!"

"I didn't even bring makeup," lamented Lisa. "Wait. 'Dinner?'"

"Damien invited us out for dinner," said Chelsea. "And he said something about a silver dress?"

"I think I saw a silver dress on the rack by the door," said Lisa.

"What?"

"Your creepy boyfriend had a bunch of clothes delivered while we were asleep," said Lisa. She shuddered. "I tell you, Chelsea, there's something really weird about that guy."

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my boss," said Chelsea. "And yeah he's obviously a little perv, but he's paying me a lot of money to just do what I do anyway, plus he got us this room! He can't be all bad."

"All I'm saying is watch out," said Lisa. "I don't think his plans for tonight stop at dinner."

"Oh I'm sure they don't," said Chelsea. She stepped out of the shower and put on her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose. "In fact, I think we're looking at another wild night."

To Be Continued...