Cocksure Ch. 01: A Maid Unmade

It worked in theory, and in every simulation I ran. The university's supercomputers had spent months in molecular simulations, time stolen from official projects for this personal obsession of mine. All for the chance to make a man of myself again.

I had not been a great lover at the best of times. Back before the accident that had stolen my legs and left my genitals mutilated beyond use. I hadn't been a virgin. I'd had a few dates, a couple of blowjobs and some fumbling, inelegant fucks. I'd even had an official girlfriend for nearly a month.

I hadn't been well endowed. I'd been at the wrong end of the Bell curve, forever envious of other men for their length, their girth, their voluminous outpourings. They say size doesn't matter, but that's not really true.

So a drug that would undo at least some of the damage done to me? To make me a real man again, and in addition boost me to the better end of the curve? Of course I was willing to steal every hour I could to spend on it.

So much time, and therefore money, just for one simple injection. Of course, if it worked, I would make a fortune selling it to others. What man wouldn't want to be equipped like a porn star?

And it did work.

It just worked a little too well.

*

For seven days I charted in precise detail the repair and growth of my genitals. After five years with a misshapen cock and no balls at all, it was magical to see between my stumps a hairy ball sack, the balls within growing quickly to the size of plums, and more slowly thereafter to the size of peaches. It was awe-inspiring to see the remains of my three-inch cock grow quickly to a healthy six inches, and gradually increase to an eventual twelve, the girth increasing likewise to a phenomenal eight inches.

Erect, my healed and transformed cock and balls were a magnificent sight indeed. For years I had hated the sight of my lower half, and now I could gaze for hours at its beauty, stroking my shaft with teasing delight.

A full week passed before I succeeded at last in achieving orgasm, and produced such an epic fountain of thick, creamy cum as I convulsed in mindblowing ecstasy that I nearly fell from my chair. The mess I made was as glorious as it was obscene. The suddenness of my climax had caught me momentarily unprepared, and in consequence my cum burst out across the floor and wall, and took some considerable time and effort to clean up afterwards.

In such, my formula was a success. There were, however, side-effects. One being how swiftly and urgently I now became aroused. Just the smell of a woman was enough to awaken my beautiful new serpent and have it salivating like a hungry predator.

I discovered that the hard way when the maid, Consuela, who does my apartment twice a week, walked in on the morning after that first, great ejaculation. She was fifty-something, a happily married mother of three, and usually cheerful but professional. Usually I was casually friendly back without ever thinking of her in a sexual way at all. On that fateful morning, however, something about the smell of her made me immediately dizzy with lust.

I was in my armchair, reading, and suddenly my cock was swelling with urgency, bulging painfully against my shorts. I waited in stoic discomfort until Consuela was out of sight in the bathroom, then quickly undid my shorts. I intended only to rearrange myself somehow, to ease the pain of unnatural constriction, but once released the weeping monster resisted further concealment.

When Consuela returned from the bathroom too soon, it was to discover me with cock very firmly within hand. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I was sure she would scream or react in horror. But I didn't see horror. I saw astonishment, and confusion, and as my instinctive panic receded I saw desire and conflict in her expression. I saw her hand drift to her crotch, scratching idly at the fabric of her trousers.

When after a full minute had passed and she still stood there, as if hypnotised by my cock, I dared to stroke it in full view of her. In all my fantasies of what I would do if I ever had a working cock again, I had never imagined wanking myself while Consuela watched. But she was there, and I was achingly hard, and if she was happy to stand there and watch, I was happy to let her.

"You can come closer," I said tentatively - and she did. She knelt close in front of me, her gaze fixed on my hand as it brushed down and up along my new, huge shaft. More excited than ever, as much by the strange command I had over this woman old enough to be my mother as by the delicious friction between my hand and cock, I dared to go further. "Take your shirt and bra off. Show me your tits."

She looked up at me and frowned. "I need to finish my work," she said, and glanced worriedly at the clock on the wall. But she didn't stand up. Instead she returned to watching my hand. "It's so beautiful," she murmured, and licked her lips as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt.

Soon I was rewarded with an open view of her bare breasts, a little saggy with age but a good size. "Use your tits to make me come," I said.

"I shouldn't do this," she said, as she did it.

I tried once to get a titjob from my girlfriend, but my cock had been so small it had proved pointless. Now, however, I had a huge, thick length, and Consuela's breasts were perfect cushions too. The press of those soft, smooth pillows about my shaft, slippery with copious precum, was a sensual delight as well as a visual feast.

"Oh God, yes," I encouraged. "Like that." I sat back and watched her work my cock with her tits, a glorious sight that I knew well from a hundred porn clips. Watching the huge head thrusting up out of that exquisite valley towards her parted lips, her tongue darting out sometimes to taste me, soon had me at the edge.

"Beg me to come all over your face and tits," I said.

"I'm not a whore," she said, visibly upset but continuing nevertheless. "I do this, then I go."

Puzzled at this strange contradiction, I allowed her to continue in silence. I was close to the edge, but the end itself was elusive. It was certainly enjoyable, but I needed to finish. I could see she needed it too.

"If you want me to come, Consuela," I said firmly, "you need to beg for it."

She scowled up at me, then sighed her resignation. "Come for me," she said.

I laughed at her insincerity. "You can do better than that."

She was stubbornly silent for a minute, then looked up into my eyes suddenly. "Please come for me, sir," she said, her cheeks bright red with shame. "Please come all over my face and tits."

The thrill of having my fifty-year-old maid begging for my cum, however sincere or not, was sweetness itself. Somehow my amazing new cock had the power to bring women to their knees and make them act against their nature.

Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. The sure knowledge that I could make Consuela my personal whore, if I wished, was enough to push me over the edge at last. Gripping the arms of my chair tightly, I cried out as my orgasm ripped through me.

Nestled still between Consuela's tight-pressed tits, my cock convulsed and kicked, cum shooting up to splash against her neck and chin. Again and again I erupted, until the slopes and valley of her breasts were slick with cum. And through it all, her eyes looked into mine, burning with resentment.

Able at last to relax, I breathed a sigh of happiness. "Thank you, Consuela," I said. "Put your bra back on now, and clean my cock with your mouth." To my delight, even this she was compelled to do, her jaw clenched angrily as the cups of her black bra swallowed her cum-soaked breasts.

"I don't know how you do this to me," she said, "but I tell my manager. He tell the police."

Technically I hadn't forced her to do anything. But I really didn't need the attention. "No, Consuela," I said sternly. "If you ever tell anyone about today, you will say you did it because you're a whore. You will continue to be my maid twice a week, and when you clean my apartment you will do so wearing only high heels and rubber gloves. Afterwards, if you ask nicely, I will let you make me come."

It was worth a shot.

And it worked, too. Three days later, she was back in my apartment, her eyes red from tears and black from lack of sleep. My cock reacted immediately to her presence, stiffening to full erection.

"I hate you," she spat out, but beneath the anger was a definite yearning as her eyes locked onto my stiffening cock. Without further prompting, she stripped out of her clothes and pulled a pair of ankle boots with stiletto heels from her bag. Tottering on these, and wearing otherwise only yellow rubber gloves, she set about her cleaning routine while I watched with great enjoyment.

Though she did her best to keep her pussy hidden from me, I caught glimpses and could see that she was a little wet at least. Her nipples were certainly hard. Every so often she would dart a glance towards my cock, her lust for it unmistakable.

With clear reluctance, she approached me when done with the cleaning, her hands shielding her pussy. "I have a husband," she said through clenched teeth. "I am a mother. I'm not a whore."

I nodded agreeably. "Tell me what you did last time you were here."

She glared at me, refusing to say anything. I stroked my cock seductively and enjoyed the redness in her cheeks. "I know you want it again," I said. "Tell me what you did."

"I used my tits to make you come," she said eventually, adding unhappily, "because I'm a whore."

"Yes," I said, "and because you're my whore, you will come to me in future without pubic hair. Wax it or shave it, I don't care."

She didn't say anything, but I could see in her eyes the certainty that she would be forced to obey.

I gave her no further orders, merely waited with patience and curiosity. I could see she desperately wanted to escape, but sensed also how powerfully she was drawn towards my hard, gently pulsing cock. "Please may I make you come, sir," she said, defeated at last.

I shrugged and waved magnanimously towards my cock. Immediately she knelt and took my huge shaft in her two hands, stroking with an expression on her face of reluctant adoration. Tentatively at first, but with ever greater determination, she sucked on the large, sensitive head, even swallowed my precum.

From time to time, she wrapped her tits about the shaft instead, the soft smoothness a pleasant alternative to intimate sureness of her hands. I murmured my appreciation, the steady excitement keeping me fully aroused but not quite bringing me to the edge. I needed more from her.

In time she sensed it too. "Come in my mouth, sir," she pleaded, looking into my eyes. Over and over she said it. "I'm your whore, sir. Please come in my mouth."

Her surrender to the inevitable excited me more than her hands and mouth could achieve. Her words pushed me to the precipice and over, and with a cry of anguished ecstasy I climaxed. My cock jerked powerfully in her grip, great streams of cum hurling out into her open mouth, some immediately spilling out and running down her chin despite her attempts to swallow.

I'd made a mess on her face by the time I was done, cum dripping onto her breasts. "Put your bra on now, Consuela." I loved knowing that her breasts would be wet from my cum long after she left me.

Four days later she was back. She blushed when she saw me, and her gaze drifted inexorably to my stirring cock, but otherwise she acted like it was perfectly normal to undress for me and do the maid's work in nothing but heels and gloves. Again she tried to keep her pussy concealed from me, but not so well that I couldn't see that she was gorgeously hairless and definitely wet.

As soon as she was done, she walked up to me. "Please may I make you come, sir," she said.

This time, I had watched her from my bed. "Let's do sixty-nine," I said. "I want to lick your cunt while you suck my cock."

That startled her. I think she expected me to demand sex.

"I don't even let my husband do that," she said quietly.

"You're not my wife," I said. "You're my whore."

She glared at me, still clearly hating to be called that. I grinned at her, and waited until her need for my cock overwhelmed her inhibitions. "Damn you," she hissed.

"Does your husband like your bare pussy?" I asked.

"He things I'm mad," she muttered, and straddled my face, giving me a close-up view of her wet pussy. The smell of it made me dizzy with lust, and I nearly came as soon as her lips touched my cock.

I fully intended to have her in every way possible. I was willing to take my time, however, and besides I knew it wouldn't be easy for her to take my huge cock. She would need some preparation for that. I would have to buy plugs for her to fill her cunt and ass with while doing the cleaning.

Burying my tongue and nose in the sweet folds of her aroused pussy while she sucked and stroked my cock was a wonderful new experience for me, and I had so many more new experiences lined up to try.

"Come in my mouth, sir," she pleaded from time to time - but for the first ever time, I sensed she was in no particular hurry to reach the end.