Deus Sex Magnumcock Pt. 01

Deus Sex Magnumcock Pt. 01 Well, he was on holiday, so why not fuck some idiot bitch? He thought to himself, a conceited smile spreading across his crocodile jaw. The palms floated above him, wind rustling through flat leather leaves and casting sharp shadows across the poolside floor. His name was Jim. Hers Kylie. And she was lying there, barely clothed really, a skinny bikini that barely covered up what it needed to. The game was afoot, a step-by-step approach to this tanned beaut; he wanted to kneel straight down and sniff her—no, no, no, hold on. Don't be an Eager McBeaver, Stever (His name was actually Jim, not Steve).

"Uh hello dear, you have a nice—"

"Fuck off."

Well that was one rejection (actually five), he could handle one rejection (five) after all. What other chance did he have? (Rape her). No, no, no, hold on. He wasn't going to rape anyone. Not on his holiday, at least. Not to say he had, that is. Raped anyone before. Ahughhuhuh...Jim coughed awkwardly—and to those paying attention, suspiciously. Here was another stupid fucker of a lovely young lady, out relaxing in the sun. Well, he was on holiday; he might as well:

"Hello, uh, dear, you uh—"

"Get bent."

Now, that made two rejections (six), but not to worry. What was the deal anyway? Sure he wasn't the cutest tool in the shed, was he? He checked the mirror and saw a scraggly looking bum with bags under his eyes, a bad hair day, and pale skin. Well, fuck. Now what?

"My name is Doctor Mischevison."

"That sounds extremely suspicious, doctor," Jim said.

Ahughuhgugh, the doctor coughed.

"Catching a cold?"

"No, no....Just a dry throat."

"Oh, okay."

"So, the procedure you see, will be to change your face, from an ugly fucker (your present state) to less ugly fucker (your state after the operation)."

"Is that the medical term?"

"Vat?" (He had a German accent)

"Ugly fucker?"

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it by now."

"Listen," the doctor said, suddenly wearing a stern expression that spoke of a true professionalism under his veneer of being a complete fucking dipshit. "We can fix your face, but if you want to pick up girls you are also going to have to uh how zu you say,"

"Stop being a weird creep?"

The doctor stroked his graying beard and stared contemplatively into the fluorescent bulb hanging above him, as if trying to find the right words.

"No, no, that's not it."

"Look paps, thanks for the advice and all, but I can fuck up the dating scene just well enough on my own. Thanks. For the advice. And all."

"...But you can fuck up the dating scene? Just well enough?" the doc said.

"Right. On my own. Thanks."

"For the—"

"Stop!!"

"All right, so just sit here and we will jack you off with—"

"Excuse me?"

"Ahughhugh...We will shoot you up with this sedative, I meant to say."

"Uh-huh. And then what?"

"We cut your face open and sort of rearrange it; et voila, your face is—"

"French?"

"No; less butt-ugly."

"No, no; you spoke French just now."

"Yes, and?"

"You're supposed to be German. Stop confusing me."

"Ah, lo siento."

Jim sighed. "Never mind."

So anyway, long story short; Jim stopped being such an ugly fuck.

#

(Weeks Later)

"Hey there, you—" Jim said.

"Ohh my fucking God let me suck your dick."

"What?"

The girl who was tanning herself on the mat jumped up with the alacrity of a racehorse shot in the bum with 2000 micrograms of adrenaline (STAT) (NEiiighhhhh) and pulled Jim's Hawaiian-print shorts down in full public view (nobody really gave a shit; it was an unspoken agreement that they were all on holiday), and shoved his standard-sized penis into her gaping mouth.

"Ohh..ohh...you're sooo hugggggeee"

Jim peeked down with a puzzled expression, curious as to what had just transpired. "Hmm," he said.

"Ugh-ugh-ugh (sounds of her choking on his cock)"

Jim was wondering why she kept pretending like he was really big when he was only, like, average-sized. He concluded that it may have something to do with perspective: given that he was now, presumably, a handsome bastard (thanks to that doctor of questionable nationality), she was almost obliged to find every other part of him attractive. That is what is referred to as the Gestalt, Jim reflected, while squirting his Super Soaker 5000 of creamy jissom into this random ho's awaiting throat. Her eyes rolled back and she squealed with delight.

"Oh, Godddddd, you taste so amaaazing!" (Again, probably just the Gestalt talking)

Jim trundled back up to his room in the resort and scratched aimlessly at his new face. "Well, that was novel." He fell into a lazy daze in the midday sun and drifted through thoughts of cold devastating rejection and implausible eyeball-measurements of his weiner. Fuck, maybe it had grown. Everything else about him seemed to have improved since waking up bandaged to find one of the nurses straddling him cowgirl and begging him to quote "splurt up inside me so I can give you an heir." It was extra weird hours later when she had to change his bedpan.

BANG

Suddenly Jim sat up in his bed—what was that? Well, a door, probably. At this cheap-ass resort one frequently heard the sounds of doors slamming shut—like, who designed this building? A deaf person? Jim was getting annoyed now; not to mention the fact he had a dehydration headache from getting half his body liquid sucked out of him that morning by a woman whose name he had had neither the inclination nor presence of mind, in the moment, to ask. For the record, it had been Kylie.

Jim listlessly ambled down the linoleum-coated spiral staircase into the austere lobby and sauntered over to the reception.

"Hello, uh"

"Hi... I'm Michelle."

She was making a coquettish advance at him, Jim was sure of it. But time and a place, and all that...

"Listen, Michelle."

"Yesss?" (Batting her eyelids)

"Well, see (Yes) the (Yes) thing (Yes) is (Yes, Yes, oh GOD YESSSSS, Michelle screamed, throwing her palm down on the desk and trembling all over.)"

"Are you okay?"

"Your voice just made me cum...oh God...I can't believe this happened." Her face went bright purple, the kind that you would see on old PCs in CGA mode.

"Riiiight..." Jim said awkwardly, "Listen, is there anything that can be done about my room? I hear doors slamming all day, and..."

"Come right this way."

"What? Oh, okay..."

Michelle wiggled her ample buttocks in front of Jim in a sensual manner and led him down a winding corridor to a dim-lit door. She turned around and looked Jim in the eyes at first but quickly faced downwards and blushed Barney-purple. Upon closer inspection, this Michelle chick looked remarkably like Cameron Diaz (based on this and the above reference to CGA mode, the reader can obviously figure out Jim's age as in his thirties...)

"What was that?" Jim said.

"Oh, for God's sake, not now." Michelle said irately. She looked out at the fourth wall and said,

"Dude, stop fucking with the story. We were just about to enter a sex scene. Don't you know that without sex scenes, stories get rated 2/20 on Literotica?"

"Actually, I did know that," the wall said. "But what the hell is this 'out of twenty' rating system? Like, who does that?"

"I don't fucking know, just stop interrupting the story, all right?"

"Fine, fine."

Jim was beginning to suspect Michelle was schizophrenic; he also didn't give a shit, because she was so insanely hot and looked remarkably like Gwyneth Paltrow.

"You said Cameron Diaz before, what's the deal?" the wall said.

"Stop it!!" Michelle said.

"Sorry, sorry. Jeez."

Now Jim could hear the voice. "Listen, is this place haunted or something? Cause like, the slamming doors was hard enough without dealing with a damn poltergeist or something. I don't want to get trapped inside my TV set."

"All of you just shut the fuck up and come in this room a sec," Michelle said.

Jim sighed. "Fine."

The wall sighed. "Fine."

It was the Presidential Suite: a large, well-furnished room with red velvet chairs and a bed so big it was like two Kings. Jim also had the ace in his pocket of a supposedly huge dong. That meant this chick from Texas was about to let him Hold'em. 'Em referring to her tits, of course.

"Whoa," Jim said, staring at Michelle's fantastic set of melons. "Can I hold'em?"

"Yes, you may. Also, did you know I'm from Texas?"

"I had a feeling..."

Michelle threw Jim down on the bed and whipped his pleasure-giver out his Samoan-print shorts.

"Ohhh me, oh my, honey. You've sure got yourself there a mighty big trouser-snake I dare say."

"Look, Michelle," Jim said sternly, "I know you're from Texas already; can you drop the accent?"

"Sure thing, honey dog. Just as soon as I rustle up some grub," she said, shoving his engorged manhood down her big mouth and exchanging a southern drawl for a southern drool.

"Whadt da fuggck you jusd say?" Michelle said.

"Don't you know it's bad manners to talk to the wall with your mouth full?" said the wall.

"Jesus you guys, can you knock it off? Let me just get my dick sucked, PLEASE! I got my face turned inside out for this shit."

"Sorry, sorry," the wall said, then went silent.

"Are you guys done yet?"

-

-

-

"NO, fuck off!"

The wall sighed.

"All right, now you can come back."

"You know, this is going to have disastrous effects for my Literotica score."

"Oh, to hell with your stupid score, wall. What, you think you're going to write the next 50 Shades of Gray? More like 50 Shades of Deluded," Michelle said spitefully.

"See what kind of woman you're letting suck you off?" the wall said. "You know, I was the one who gave you this penis power to begin with."

"No you didn't," Jim pointed out, "it was actually the German/French/Spanish doctor."

"How postmodern," Michelle said wryly.

"Well now we're in a pickle," the wall said. "Because I don't know whether to let you go on more super-penis adventures, or to first dig deeper into this ontological dilemma involving my omnipotence. Or lack thereof, as the case may be..."

"Screw your dilemma," Michelle said. "You think anyone comes to this site to read about existential angst in the face of Deus Ex Machina? No, they come for cocks going into vaginas."

"Oh yeah, well whose fault is it they didn't get to read that part, hmm?"

"Just shut the fuck up and throw in a sex scene!"

"All right."

Jim pushed Michelle against the bathroom wall and stripped her of her business skirt, leaving on her concierge jacket and shirt with the little bow tie because it was hotter that way. Next, he ripped off her panties, pushing her face against the cold tile wall and making her moan in anticipation. Jim spat on his hand and rubbed it over the tip of his cock, only to find this preparatory maneuver had been futile—Michelle was wetter than a broken fire hydrant. "I'm going in," Jim said, plunging his fat cock into Michelle's puckered pussy lips and pulling back her shiny L'Oreal hair to suck on her earlobe.

"OHHhhhhhhhhh," was Michelle's predictable response.

Michelle narrowly eyed the wall but very quickly the contempt fell from her face, since Jim's magic cock was pushing its way into all the right places and at all the right angles.

"Ohh ohhhhh...yes...YES...fucking destroy meeeeee," Michelle said.

Jim banged her like a fuck drum; he slammed her like a sumo; he bucked up her butt like buckaroo; he pelvically thrust her into orbits of pleasure; he yanked her hair and pretended to spin an invisible lasso; he rocked her fraggle; he willied her wonka; he patta-d her cakes; he blasted her buttocks; he tossed her salad and scrambled her eggs; he ate her crazy; he slipped her discs; he registered her software; he tongued her twizzlers; he licked her tootsie pop; he nosed her muff; he made her satisfied with her long distance carrier; he made her quit smoking; he made her stop doing blow. He got her signed up in a ten-step program. He made her go to two meetings a week. He met her parents. They didn't really like him, well, the mom did too much and the dad did too little. He watched Dr. Phil with her and got to the bottom of her anxiety problem. He ate chocolates with her and cried while watching Pretty Woman, and even sat through its anticlimactic ending without commenting on how anticlimactic it was. He read poetry to her. He took her shopping and watched her try on dresses that didn't fit her but didn't say anything about the weight gains that started when she quit drugs. He went to the gym with her. He gave it up when she did, agreeing that it was just stupid and guys stare at your ass the whole time. He continued to give her his shaft three times a week despite not finding her attractive anymore. He met her parents again; this time the dad had gotten over it but the mom still wanted his erect fucking penis insideee meeeee yes yes yes give it to me right there right there yesssss oh god yesssss it's ok you can cum inside me but I'm not on birth control. He took her to her mom's baby shower; nobody knew her dad still had it in him, the old dog. He comforted her when her parents separated after her dad demanded a DNA test. He watched TV with her: Mike & Molly, The Biggest Loser, Huge, Hot and Heavy, 1000-Lb Sisters, My Big Fat Fabulous Life, Oprah,....

Jim sneaked into the bathroom of their shared apartment.

"Hey!"

"....."

"Hey! Are you there?"

"....."

"Dude, seriously! Stop fucking around!"

"What," the wall said petulantly.

"I know you're making her fat, you son of a bitch."

"Oh yeah, well was it me who made you knock up her mom too? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Shut up! I wouldn't have been horny if you didn't turn my fiancée into Shrek's girlfriend!"

"Well, you were the one who chose to go out with a Cameron Diaz lookalike."

"She actually looks more like Gwyneth Paltrow to me."

"Then you should have said 'that chick from Shallow Hal.'"

"Just fucking help me already!"

"Why are you only coming to me now?"

"What?"

"Jimbo, you've been living with this bovine individual for months; why do you suddenly care?"

"Look, I just didn't want the readers to—"

"Tut, tut, tut. Now who's the one breaking the fourth wall?"

"JUST MAKE HER STOP BEING SO FUCKING FAT."

"Jiiiim? Is that you? Who are you talking to in there?" Michelle called from the living room.

"Nobody, honey, go back to watching Extreme Weight Loss. (You didn't say that one yet, did you?)"

"No, not yet."

"Good. So how's about it? Can you make her hot again?"

"You know, you have a magic penis and handsome face now. Why don't you just break up with her?"

"I don't know...I guess I have feelings for her. As fucked up as that sounds."

"It is pretty fucked. I mean, it's borderline bestiality."

"Hey honey, I'm going to order three large pepperoni pizzas. Do you want anything?"

"No, honey. You go ahead..."

"All right. Look, Jim, you're a good guy. I'll see what I can do for ya."

"Thanks, buddy."

"No problem."

The next day Jim woke up with a huge boner. Like, really huge. Whereas before it was in question whether Jim truly did possess a larger than average penis (there was that whole spiel about the Gestalt, which was rather contrived but seemed funny at the time), now there was no doubt about it: he had a big dick. Like, seriously, a huge fucking dong.

"Oh, God..." Michelle murmured. She was digging in to a hot fudge sundae.

"Michelle, it's seven in the morning. What on earth are you eating?"

"Oh, so now I'm overeating?!" Michelle began to sob large chunky tears which fell into her dessert and melted the cream into a weak, runny liquid.

"Look, I never said that. When did I ever say that?"

"BUT YOU THOUGHT IT!"

"She's got you there, Jim."

"You, fuck off, wall. What's the big idea, anyhow?"

"Ha, big idea. I get it."

"Oh, for God's sake," Jim said, putting his hands over his face.

"Listen, Jimbo. I thought, since your wife's a big ol' hambeast, you may as well be a big ol' cockbeast. Cow and a chicken, just like back on the farm, ey Michelle?"

"Why don't you go shove it, you bastard," Michelle said. "Have fun getting 2/20 stars again."

"Ouch. You know, if they vote down this story, you're as much to blame as I am."

"Bullshit. You're the one pulling the strings around here."

"The only one pulling the strings is you, babe. Pulling the strings of your clothes loose, that is."

"Hey, don't talk to my fiancée like that."

"Quiet, thundercock, before I make it twenty feet."

Jim went silent.

"What the fuck? You're not gonna protect me? You're afraid of him?" Michelle said, spilling her dessert in anger.

"You're getting fudge sauce all over the sheets, honey."

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE SHEETS!"

"You know, ever since you got off the coke you've been real testy."

"What? But that was ten months ago."

"I'm talking about Coca-Cola."

"All right, stop, STOP!" the wall said. "I can't have you making dad jokes like that; I'm heading for 1/20 at this rate."

"What's wrong with dad jokes?" Michelle said.

"I guess you're right, Michelle," the wall said. "I mean, he is gonna be a dad soon..."

"DUDE!!"

"Oh my God?" Michelle began to cry again. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"...."

Michelle hugged Jim tightly. "Oh, honey. We're going to have a baby!!"

"Oh," Jim said nervously, "yeah, isn't that great? (Glaring over at the wall)"

"You know, maybe that's why I've put on those extra pounds lately?"

"Yeah," the wall said, "that's why."

"See?" Michelle said, "I told you it wasn't just me!"

"See, Jim?" the wall said, "that must explain the ten packs of Oreos she eats every morning!"

"Go fuck yourself," Jim mumbled.

"What?" Michelle said.

"I said, go find yourself a nice pregnancy outfit today," Jim said.

"How would it be any different to her regular outfits?" the wall said.

Michelle finally rolled her gargantuan mass out the door and slowly edged her car out the garage, its undercarriage sending sparks up as it dragged against the concrete.

"Well, Jesus, fuck. Now what?" Jim said.

"Fucked if I know, man," the wall said. "But hey, look on the bright side."

"What's that?"

"If this story gets low ratings there'll never be a Part 2 anyway."

"Wait!" cried Jim. "Wait!!!"

"What?"

"You can't end it there."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because it means certain death for me and Michelle."

"Yeah, but she's gonna die of heart failure within a few years anyway, at this rate."

"Dude, that's not funny."

"Oh, what, so now I have to both continue the story and not be offensive? Where's the fun in that?"

"Just turn my dick back to normal and stop being a jerk."

"No."

"Come on man, it's like fricking fourteen inches long."

"You're gonna need it to dig under the mountain of flesh that your fiancée has turned into."

"Just make it like ten inches, how about that?"

"Only if you go out and fuck a random woman."

"What? Why??"

"For ratings, duh."

Jim sighed. On the one hand, he wanted to be faithful to Michelle. On the other hand, he didn't want to be erased in a void of discontented readership.

"Well, okay."

"Zap."

Jim's cock transformed before his eyes into a well-endowed but not grotesquely huge specimen of a dick.

"That's better."

"Hurry on now, it won't take long for Fiona to shred through all the XXXL clothing at the plus store."

"Who?"

"It's the name of Shrek's wife."

'Oh, for God's sake."

Jim scrambled up and got ready then dived into his car; not because he was particularly anxious to go cheat on his girlfriend, but because the wall kept singing All Star by Smash Mouth over and over again just to irritate him into action. Well, it worked. Soon Jim was out on Sunset (does anyone really even care what city this fucking mess is taking place in at this point? It's LA, there) cruising around for chicks. It didn't take long for a little fishy to take a bitey witey.