Dick the Delivery Man Pt. 01

Greg tapped his fingers irrhythmically against the wheel of his cramped van, sighing tiredly. It was almost 11 pm, and it was raining horribly, obscuring the height of the trees. Nearly finished with his deliveries, a single package sat on the empty seat beside him. It was marked with nothing more than an address, like always. The brown box shifted every so often when he hit a pothole in his path, but revealed nothing of it's contents.

As Greg turned onto another seemingly endless road, he scratched the scruff of his chin absentmindedly, scanning the dark houses that lined the path. He was getting closer to his destination, 309 Irving Road. Violet Adams lived there, seemingly the only person on the entire street. He had never seen so much as a cat in the window of these homes, let alone delivered a package to one.

Greg shook his legs, having lost feeling in them hours ago. Cursing, he reached for the source of his exhaustion, and began his painful march down Violet's long and winding road, if it could even be called a road at this point. Greg had gotten his van stuck in the muddy path enough times to know better than to drive. His flashlight flicked on, illuminating the swampy ground ahead of him. The cold wind whipped at his jacket, and the nearby trees grew long and sharp shadows as the beam passed over them. ("The storm is getting even worse.") Greg thought.

An indistinct yell came from the darkness ahead, startling Greg. "Christ! Shit." His flashlight had slipped from his freezing fingers, plunging itself into the mud beneath. "Hello!?" Greg shouted back, the wind pulling his words away. Again, a yell. Greg couldn't make out their words. Wiping the mud from his light, he continued his arduous journey, clutching the light package to his chest.

Greg's eyes narrowed into a squint as he approached the glaring light of Violet's home. The voice from before seemed to have been hers, as Violet's figure was clearly outlined in the open door. Her words were much clearer now.

"Get in here! You'll get sick!" She did a long wave, causing her long red hair to shake wildly.

The stiff delivery man stumbled into her house as she quickly shut the door behind him. Violet guided the shivering Greg into her cluttered living room, seating him besides a roaring fire.

"You just sit here and stay warm, Greg. I'm going to make you a hot drink. You want Coffee?"

Greg nodded appreciatively, eyes never leaving the fire. "Coffee's fine, thank you." Violet patted him on the shoulder, and left him to prepare it.

("She remembered this time.") Greg's blue lips curled into a semblance of a smile at the thought.

Greg initially chose this route because it had few deliveries. He had just come out of a nasty break up, and was looking for a job to take his mind off of it. For his first year it seemed a smart choice. But then, Violet Adams ordered her first package. Greg remembered it well. He was so exhausted traveling the long road that not long after he dutifully handed her the delivery he had ended up falling asleep in his van. He awoke the next day with a concerned Violet staring down at the man sleeping in her driveway. Ever since then, Violet seemed to order a package at least once a week. The long drive should have infuriated Gregory, but he could never muster up any hate towards the woman. Their relationship had evolved into a familiar routine of easy smiles and warm greetings. Sometimes she would invite him in for coffee, and they would talk for a short time, swapping opinions and sharing stories. Greg would have preferred more, but he wasn't about to ruin what they had already.

Greg glanced around at his surroundings as he warmed his fingers by the fire. Her living room was messy, and felt very lived in. She seemed to have made a few cursory attempts at cleaning up, but this amounted to little more than stuffing a few frozen food boxes into an overflowing garbage can.

Something in that garbage can caught his eye. Craning his neck around, Greg stood up from the leather chair, and silently moved to the trash. A familiar plastic wrapper peeked out from beneath a pizza box.

'Zeus condoms'. Advertisements for this brand were plastered all over the porn websites he frequented, often in tandem with sketchy pills. Designed for massive endowments, the wrapper proudly states "Doesn't come in a size below large!" The size on the top read 'Custom'.

Greg felt his stomach drop. He wanted to throw up. ("How large...?") Greg thought. ("Does she really like them that big?") Greg's mouth went dry imagining her on her back, spreading her legs for something of that size. ("I can't compete with that!") Greg's eyes began to well up a little, a rush of emotion flowing out of him. He felt like a fool, that he'd been betrayed. ("I know that we're not even dating or anything, but that's just-") Greg couldn't even finish the thought. Exasperation and misery robbed him of his strength. His fingers replaced the box of pizza, covering again the condom that had stolen his soul.

Greg was staring at the embers in the fireplace when Violet returned.

"Sorry about the mess by the way, Greg." She smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting the delivery until tomorrow."

"It's alright. That's fine." Greg hadn't even heard what she said. He could barely respond, his throat unable to do more than whisper.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that."

"I said that's okay." Greg's voice was stronger now, but clearly warbled with the agony he was feeling.

"Are you alright?" Violet's intense green eyes drilled into him now, noticing his obvious distress.

"Yeah. Just feeling a little sick." He wasn't lying.

Violet continued to scrutinize him. "If you say so. Here," Violet hands him a mug. "You take 2 sugars, right?"

"Yes, thank you." He usually took only 1, but he wasn't in any mood to push the issue.

Greg and Violet each sat opposite to the fire. Greg's eyes were on the floor, hand holding the undrunk coffee that had long ago lost the heat he enjoyed. Violet said nothing, eyes shifting concernedly from the fire to the catatonic man beside her.

"Long drive up here?" She asked, desperate to break the silence.

"Yeah. 3 hours, like always." Greg said curtly, without interest.

Violet's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, you've been driving 3 hours to deliver this stuff to me?"

Greg lifted his head with great effort, barely managing to meet her eyes. "I thought you knew."

"No I didn't know! Jesus Greg, I'd have driven to the store if I knew it was that much of a hassle. There's one just down the road!"

"One what? What am I delivering here, Violet?" Greg asked almost accusingly, dread rising in his throat at the possibility of what he had carried.

Violet blushed. "That's not important." Desperate to change the subject, she continued. "I'll just have to stop ordering online. The shipping is too much anyway. I could just-"

"Violet." Greg interrupted her. "It's fine. I chose this route, it's my own fault. I get paid overtime for it anyway."

"It's awful nice of you to do that, but you really should talk to your boss about this. Half the time you show up here you're a foot in the grave."

"I'm a big boy," Greg mentally hissed at his own words. ("Not big enough, apparently.") "I can handle it."

Greg stood up with those words, and stretched his arms theatrically.

"I really ought to be going now, anyway. I've got paperwork to look at in the morning."

"You can't drive home in that state. Not when the roads are so wet!" Violet counters. "Why don't you just stay the night here? I've got a spare bedroom."

Any other day this would have had Greg howling at the moon. Today, Greg knew better.

Unfortunately, he was in no state to refuse.

Greg laid on his side, listening to the novelty cat clock tick incessantly. His wet hair soaked the pillow beneath him, attracting the coolness of the night. Outside, the rain continued to batter the grass and dirt. The sound reminded him of something. A deep and primal, animalistic urge that claws at each and everyone of us:

("Where's the god damn bathroom?")

Greg stumbled through the hallways of the unfamiliar house. Eyes fluttering open and shut as he winded through the corridors. ("This house is a lot bigger than I thought it was.") Greg thought. ("Must be rich. Explains the packages.") A smaller, more bitter voice followed with ("Explains the condoms.")

The sound of his visit echoed throughout the house, knocking forcefully into Greg's sleepy ears on each return. Finished with his business, Greg flicked the handle and returned to sleep.

Or, he would have. The handle didn't budge. No matter how hard he pushed nor how many curses he leveled at it, the handle wouldn't shift an inch.

"Fuck," Greg said aloud. "I have to tell Violet. I can't leave shit in her toilet."

Greg crept through the hallways until he was met with the woman's door. Carefully pulling the knob, Greg pushed the door open just a crack, peering into the black within.

"Violet?" He whispered like a frightened toddler. "You awake?"

Silence.

"Violet." Louder now.

Silence.

("Fuck. She couldn't have been asleep for long, right? Better to wake her than leave shit in the flush.")

Greg pushed the door open further now, blocking the hallway light with his body.

("This is stupid. Maybe I should just cover it with toilet paper or something. I'll leave a note.")

Greg turned to leave, but Violet had begun to stir in bed. Freezing, Greg's heart leapt into his throat.

Violet had rolled over, knocking the blankets to the floor, leaving her uncovered on the bed.

Greg considered Violet to be a very attractive woman. Contrary to this, Violet only ever wore loose fitting sweatpants and unflattering short sleeved shirts. He had always thought it strange that she never dressed up. If she had worn even the most basic of modern clothing she would have been stunning. Greg had trouble reconciling her reclusive clothing and housing with her personality. She was outspoken and energetic, not shy or insecure. It didn't seem to add up.

That equation was now complete.

Violet's sleepwear were somehow even less stimulating than usual. A beige T-shirt that hung loosely on her body, leaving you unable to discern where her body's curvature started and the shirt ended. She hadn't changed out of her sweatpants despite having gone to bed. Grey stretchy material. Normally it would waste breath to even describe sweatpants. But right now, the sweatpants held something quite noteworthy.

A large object was protruding up from her left leg. As Greg watched the woman writhe, the unknown object stretched the pantleg upwards in a motion that Greg knew all too well.

The object was an erection.

Violet Adams had a penis.

("How had I never seen this before?") It seemed impossible. A penis of that size couldn't possibly have been tucked underneath those sweatpants.

Greg's eyes were at rapt attention, watching each throb of the impossible cock, each pulse that sent the object incrementally further into the air, valiantly battling gravity, though in vain. It seemed like any moment the pants would snap, but they held steadfast, weathering the storm of blood that rushed through the monstrous snake.

A low groan awoke Greg from his trance, but he remained rooted to the spot. Violet began to stir, and her delicate, pale fingerd reached around in the dark, pawing for the lamp that sat next to her. She had heard a noise, and her long red hair obscured her eyes from the statue of a delivery man that had found it's way into her room.

The light flicked on, and Violet's eyes caught Greg's. They sat there silently, the statue and the monster in her pants competing for stiffness.

Violet broke the silence. "Why are you in my room?" Her words were careful, fearful.

Greg's eyes drifted down to the pillar once more, before darting back. "Toilet broke."

The silence returned.

Violet's mouth puckered as though a sour taste entered her mouth. "Yeah. It's broken." Tears began to roll out of her eyes, but her voice was strong, as though this moment was practiced. "Can you leave my room, please?"

Greg nodded silently, and left her room.

("A penis.") Greg sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He was wide awake now, more alert than he had ever been on the drive there.

His mind racing, he sat silently. The ticking returned. The rain returned.

Many conflicting thoughts ran through his head, but the strangest thought of all was that he was relieved. ("The condoms were hers.") His mouth curled into a wide smile. He wanted to laugh. She wasn't a size queen, but a sizable queen.

A squeaky floorboard alerted him to her presence. She was just outside the door.

"Greg, can I come in?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Yeah."

The door opened, and Violet walked in wearing different clothes. More concealing, Greg noted.

"I wanted to apologize." Her eyes were pained. "I feel like I have been leading you on."

Greg gives her a confused look. ("What does that mean? Is her idea of flirting having me deliver things to her door? She was flirting with me the whole time?")

She continued. "You saw exactly what you thought you did. I have a penis. That's why I live out here. It's easier to hide it." She gestures weakly to her crotch, but the bulge is still hidden. "I had been ordering deliveries to have someone to talk to. It was irresponsible and disrespectful to play with your emotions. I'm not going to make any more orders, so you don't need to worry about me anymore. If you still want to stay the night, I promise that I'm not going to rape you or anything. If you're uncomfortable, feel free to leave. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

And with that, she walked out of the room.

Greg knew he should have said something then, but he couldn't find the words.

Rattled and confused, Greg slept, knowing that just a few feet away the biggest cock he had ever seen was resting. Attached to it, the woman he had been lusting after for months.

The next morning, Greg awoke to the sunlight pouring into the window.

Yawning, Greg pulled himself to his feet, only dimly aware that something spectacular happened last night. The groggy deliveryman walked to the bathroom.

This wasn't his bathroom.

The events of the previous night washed over him. Running to Violet's room, he threw open the door, finding it empty. His legs now carried him down the stairs, and into the kitchen where Violet sat, eating toast and drinking tea.

The guilt she felt was evident on her face. She struggled to maintain eye-contact with him, eyes locked onto his chest.

"Sleep well?" She asked.

"Best in a long time." Greg responded, wrapping Violet up in a tight hug.

Violet was shocked at this development, to say the least. Had he forgotten last night?

"Did you make me deliver you condoms?" Greg whispered into her ear.

Violet stammered a response. "How- Yes. I'm so sorry. I didn't think that-" Greg released her.

"Don't worry about it. I've delivered worse."

Violet watched him carefully. His face betrayed no disgust.

"Why are you doing this Greg? I made you deliver me condoms for months. I used those condoms." She said with disbelief. "That was sexual harassment." She added, after a moment, flatly.

"Yeah. So?" Greg sat next to her at the wooden table, pouring himself a glass of last night's cold coffee.

"You're not bothered at all? By the condoms?"

"I got my emotions out early. You left a condom wrapper on top of the trash." Greg responded, matter-of-fact.

Violet held her head in her hands and groaned at her own incompetence.

Greg continued. "It felt terrible at first. I thought you liked dicks that size. Needless to say, I don't quite meet that criteria." Greg coughs unconvincingly at the admission, and downs the entire cup of coffee before continuing his speech. "But when I found out that it was your penis, I was shocked, sure. The strongest emotion it gave me, however, was relief. It meant that you weren't taken by some one else. In a fucked up way, I still had a shot." Greg lays his arm across the table, leaning in closer to Violet. "Whatever you are down there doesn't matter to me. I'm willing to give anything a try. What do you say?"

Violet was taken aback at this confession. She had never considered this going down well.

"I don't have a vagina. We can't have kids." Violet squeaked out, desperate for this to blow up in her face. At least then this situation would make sense.

"I've always been partial to anal," Greg grinned wolfishly, eyes full of levity. "and we could always adopt, if we get that far."

"Well, If you're willing, then so am I." Violet decided carefully, still wary.

Greg made the first move, standing and hoisting Violet into his arms. His lips locked around hers, and her stiff arms relaxed.

"Are we doing this now?" Violet asked through his mouth, words disjointed by his passion.

"I think so." Was all Greg said.

The hallway was barely big enough for one person, let alone two in the throes of lust. Greg had started to undo his belt when violet collided with him from behind, knocking him into her bedroom door.

"Shit, sorry Greg! The catch is hard to get off." Violet apologized, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

"The catch?" Greg stumbled to his feet, turning to face her.

Violet had removed her pants, and underneath it was a strange folded cloth. Her hands were hard at work on undoing it.

It was here that Greg would first see the monster up close.

As her fingers dexterously darted around her crotch, Greg watched the lump of cloth stir. Flashes of skin appeared in between the folds, revealing veiny flesh, far darker than the surrounding area. Despite it's enormous appearance, the cloth seemed to be constricting her full size. The thought made him shiver.

Eventually, her fingers finished their task, and the cloth fell away.

Her penis was enormous. The flesh was covered from top to bottom in veins, each thicker than a pinky. These veins angrily pulsed and grew with each beat of her overworked heart. The head was dark, nearly crimson. It spread out like a shelf, covering the skin beneath in shade. The girth of the package was inconceivable, nearly twice as wide as a can of soda. It unfurled from the cloth and hung down to her knees, far too weighty to beat gravity. Pearls of clear liquid dripped freely from her wide urethra, marking the floor with her lust. Curly red pubic hair spiralled around the base of her penis. Beneath the behemoth hung two smooth spheres, each the size of an orange.

Greg stopped working on his belt, and stared in awe of her construction. ("You're the giver,") he reassured himself. ("You don't need to worry about that.") Greg was unconvinced that worry was truly what he felt when he saw her phallus, but he wasn't quite ready to admit otherwise, not even to himself.

Violet next pulled off her shirt, revealing a black bra underneath. The bra contained her breasts quite nicely, a strong E cup, bordering on F. The fabric fell away as she continued to undress, freeing her heavy, pale tits. Her breasts were perky, nipples erect and pointing to Greg. They swung hypnotically as she bent down to pull off her socks. Greg pulled his eyes away as he restarted his own undressing.

Greg's penis was now undeniably erect, reaching a respectable 6 inches in length.

Violet eyed Greg's package warily. "I've never done this before. You need lube for anal, don't you?"

"Oh, right, yes. Do you have any on you?"

Violet shook her head. "Never needed it."

Greg frowned, thinking of an alternative. His eyes scanned her bedroom, looking for anything suitable. Nothing caught his eye. As he turned to Violet, ready to share the bad news, a quick look at the elephant in the room held a possible solution. "Your precum might work." He offered. Violet smiled.