The Phallustine

The Phallustine

My timid wife brought home the brochure and hesitantly nudged it across the table to see how I would respond. It looked like a great place to go: a fun-filled vacation including absolutely whatever we could dream up. And I mean anything.

Becca awaited my approval nervously, fingering the adder necklace she always wore. She offered uncertainly: "At the resort there'll be nothing holding us back. We'll be free to do whatever we want. No holds barred. No silly rules."

It was, of course, a holographic resort using the best in enhanced multi-sensory H-tech. They'd been around for a little while now, and I'd heard about the types of things that happen there, and the price was finally affordable, so we talked it over and agreed to go.

We arrived in a hot air balloon. Sure it was just a holoroom in a droneplane, but it felt absolutely real. The wicker basket seemed to sway in the cold wind while burners narrowly threatened to scorch our hair, but took the chill off.

On our first day we had no plans. We just roamed around sampling the hedonistic delights. Nothing was actually material, yet it all looked and felt amazing.

The dancing girls could be anyone, but they all looked gorgeous. When I gawked I didn't feel guilty, I felt more like I was watching mere pornographic images and not illicit women in the flesh.

Delving deeper into the park, one would never know the peacock kabobs were actually made of plain rice. Or that the lobster was made of oatmeal. Being in-the-know didn't change my pleasure in the exotic tastes - well, except for the prime rib which I knew was made from crickets - yuck!

Better yet, you could swim with sharks, lift thousand pound weights, be invisible in a crowd, or fight twenty Ninjas - and there was no risk or danger. It was all subjectively tangible but only inauthentic if you thought too deeply.

When we passed the sex den I pretended at first, not to notice, then not to be interested. Of course it was one of the things I privately most wanted to try out. Becca asked keenly, "What's 'Land of the Phallustine'?"

I knew too well from the website that it was a seedy place where one could either hook up with massively endowed guys - or BE the man with the huge cock, depending on what your preference was.

I had a longstanding fantasy to get blown by a guy: they say no woman does it better than a guy and this was my chance to find out.

I hurriedly changed the subject.

When she said she wanted to be a butterfly in a rainforest I begged off, saying I wanted to go to the all you can eat buffet where you can literally eat to your hearts content without gaining weight or even filling up because there the gossamer food was literally made of light.

So as soon as we went our separate ways I doubled back to the Land of the Phallustine, passing the tiger wrestling and the more mundane pinball arcade. I did stop for a brief diversion as a pinball wizard.

In the den, I really got off on lounging naked in ancient bathhouses, showing off my new, and very substantial feeling, fifteen inch holographic cock. And when a twerpy little guy with a small dick offered to suck me it absolutely felt like fifteen inches of my cock were being blown by a subservient sissy. I could really feel his lips as he debased himself on the imaginary crown a full nine inches beyond my real, though ordinary cockhead. Even more, I could really feel his throat squeeze my head as he impaled himself, driving to the base. And when I climaxed I really felt gobs of cum course through a fifteen inch urethra, multiplying my pleasure by those excess inches.

I didn't feel guilty about that either. I figured he was mostly sucking a photon created dildo that only appeared to be incarnate. It certainly wasn't actual cheating.

That night in our room Becca and I relaxed on a sea of pillows, as she mused... "I've always wanted to be an Amazon warrior: with a bow, like Zena." No sooner had she said it than I beheld her in a toga with a gold braided belt and with one more-perfect-than-ever breast hanging free. I don't think she planned it so much as our room responded to her intent.

Caught up in the moment I said, "Let's make you twenty years younger, with flawless skin." And she was.

For a moment she looked injured, like I'd stabbed her to the heart by not accepting her age and blemishes. Then she joined in, "You could be an Amazon warrior too - and we could wrestle."

Immediately I was in a toga just like hers - curiously with one beautiful female breast exposed, and presumably another beautiful breast inside my outfit. I gazed down, delighting in the big naked jug on my chest.

I touched it and I actually felt my fingers caressing my new feminine boob. My nipple grew hard under my ministrations and I could feel a cool breeze on the sensitive nub. So this was what Becca felt...

It was incredible how electric tingles emanated from my nipple, traveling through my body.

Fearfully, I grasped at my groin, but thankfully my penis was still there, growing firm from the odd sensations of having my erect nipple touched.

By now Becca was enthusiastically kicking pillows out of the way, revealing that the formerly travertine floor of our suite was now one large wrestling mat, "OK, sister, let's see who's the strongest warrior princess."

My normally sweet-tempered wife leaped at me in mock ferocity, grabbing me by the shoulders. Our arms, grappling at each other, were equally smooth with little hair to be seen. The next surprise was when she clutched at the pony tail I didn't know I had, yanking me to the ground.

It was peculiar how we were equally matched in strength. I rolled over and turned the tables on her to throw my torso over hers. I almost had her pinned, each of our one exposed breasts rubbing against the other's. I could definitely grasp the appeal of lesbianism.

Craning her head down she suckled my teat ending with a nip of her teeth. I threw my head back from the ecstatic insult, but this was all the distraction she needed.

Quickly she scrambled on top of me, both her knees unshakably fixed on my shoulders.

Above my supine body her chest was heaving with her labored breathing and her tight body was dewy from the efforts of our battle.

Laughing playfully but triumphantly, she asked, "So what glory can the victor claim?"

I didn't feel the shame of a man who lost to a woman. It was more like one Amazonian being subjugated by the superior warrior: the result of a game that I could freely acknowledge.

I looked at the gold tassel on her costume which was hanging there right where her enticing womanhood would be. It was inches from my mouth with only the flimsy garment between her celestial pussy and my lips.

I grinned back, "I think the winner should be serviced however she wants." Becca loves to have her gash licked and this new imperial position for us was exciting me greatly.

Kneewalking forward she pulled the pleated linen aside dramatically only to reveal a flaccid, yet undeniably corpulent cock!

I gasped, more horrified that she was changed so dramatically than that a seemingly fleshy and offensive cock was touching my lips.

She looked as surprised as I, but that didn't slow her down at all.

Grasping it firmly she rubbed her solid cock on my unprotected lips while I did my best to turn my head. What was this domineering cock doing sprouting from my gentle wife's groin?!

Anything could happen here in this fantasyland, yet I never anticipated this.

Clearly amused, she giggled, "It's not real, silly. Just suck it!"

It was my wife's, my more-beautiful-than-ever wife's. And while she was technically right that it wasn't real, that's not how I initially perceived it. Though on the other hand a part of me thought cerebrally, "It's nothing more than photons manipulated by an electromagnetic matrix. Why not?"

Besides, the stunning twenty-two year old porcelain skinned beauty with perfectly renewed breasts looked damn hot with a pink cock jutting out from her groin.

When I opened up and let her in it was her turn to gasp, "Wow! No wonder you guys like blowjobs so much. It feels like my clit is a thousand times bigger; magnifying the feelings from your tongue a thousand times more."

The soft appendage grew hard instantly. It was silky-smooth, beautiful, and sexy as hell. I liked her magnificent body, I liked her proud cock, but still I worried what this said about me - that I was attracted to this foreign unladylike part.

No longer meek, she lunged forward inserting her cock about halfway into my mouth, "Suck it bitch!" Then she laughed mirthfully, "Funny that I can say that."

I spit it out. "What! Are you trying to make me a girl? First you dress me up as an Amazonian princess, then you stick a dick in my mouth while calling me a bitch."

"Honestly, no, I'm not trying to turn you into a girl." She smirked gleefully. "Really, I'd prefer you to look like your regular self right now..." (I felt my chest return to normal) "Oh, that was quick." She exclaimed cheekily. "You'll look much better sucking my cock as a man. It'll be way sexier that way."

In my mind I pictured my regular bearded face prostrated beneath her, while from her ascendant point of view she humiliated me - making me the loser-cocksucker.

She jammed it back in my mouth, and again, I relented. With detached intellectualism I focused on the words she had said - that it wasn't real.

Nevertheless, I could clearly feel the sweaty frenulum beneath this cockhead, also the ridge of its crown when it passed my lips.

In defeat I forced myself to let go of my doubts, to embrace her fantasy. I told myself it was for her, but down deep I feared that it was for me. I wanted to suck my wife's new cock - and just maybe another cock.

She didn't plow back and forth so much as she held it in one place and pivoted her hips. She humped ineffectually at my mouth, never really getting any back and forth action going.

Meanwhile, I lay there detached and wondering what it would be like to suck a cock that belonged to a real man - someone who knew how to use it. Clearly she still thought of the new organ like a clit, not knowing how to thrust.

It was taking forever and she was getting no closer to finishing, so I decided I would have to do the work for her. Transitioning into an active participant I mouthed her frustrated cock, rubbing my tongue around it and suctioning the half that was in me.

Her dick stopped feeling alien. I came to think of it more like an old familiar friend, and in fact, I knew its texture and shapes somehow.

She smelled manly too, an odor I knew only too well as the owner of a dick. Additionally, she had a hairy set of balls that I never got to taste because the blowjob never got that deep. It was a nice looking cock, not different from mine - which was a good thing.

My cheeks hollowed out as I sucked hard, doing my best to bring her off. I accepted the challenge to complete this submissive act. I would have lustfully groped her boobs or jerked off to relieve my building need, but my arms were still pinned.

Beads of perspiration gathered on her face as her climax approached. Then she grunted manfully and arched her back, still ignorant that it would feel better if she actually fucked my mouth.

A powerfully robust stream of cum sprayed into me, and not a small amount either. She'd never squirted before, so again, we were both shocked. It didn't taste bad, really it was just like mine, still I coughed and spluttered trying to accommodate the thin pervasive liquid.

When she dismounted I was totally horned so I climbed atop her quickly, reestablishing my manhood.

We kissed with the remnants of her jizz for us to share and a bleachy odor in my sinuses. I didn't care and apparently neither did she.

When our cocks rubbed together it stimulated my urges greatly but offered me no place to find relief. I begged her to return to her normal self, with a pussy, and when she did

I fell into her, sinking to the hilt in one thrust. She felt like home: middle-aged skin, saggy boobs and all.

I came in a flash, almost prematurely. In retrospect, I wish I'd had the sense of mind to give myself the steel blue eyes she always admires on her favorite actor, or just a little more girth, or even a ribbed cock - for her pleasure. But in my urgency to come I totally forgot about any holographic enhancements we could make.

The next day I snuck back to the Land of the Phallustine. This time I wanted to be the sub, like I had been with Becca. I wanted to blow a big cock on a manly stud. It was like she had awakened something in me. I needed to know what it felt like when a man was in control of the blowjob. Someone who would do it right.

I stepped through the doorway into the sex den and from the top of my head impulsively told the system that I wanted to be a

Roman slave. The man staring back at me in the mirror wore a tunic so short the tip of his tiny limp dick poked out.

I felt the need to tug at the costume with the way my backside was exposed. Nevertheless, I forged into the room. I had been imagining myself as a weak muscle-less plebe with a miniscule dick and that's exactly how I was projected. It seemed fitting for how I wanted to be used.

The details were uncannily right. I had no hair from the neck down. My sandals were laced up my leg, reminiscent of bondage gear. Even my countenance changed. My now weak-jawed smooth and beardless face looked like that of a guy with no virility, who was destined to be abused by stronger men.

Within minutes guys started paying attention to me, though none of them were appealing. I wanted to meet a big strapping hunk; a guy with the confidence to take me. Everyone seemed to lack a magnetism that no holo could provide.

Unfortunately, lecherous and desperate losers followed me around delivering lame pick-up lines and pawing at my body. I was cornered by a couple and was just about to give in and let them fuck my mouth just to get it over with, when HE appeared.

He was easily a head above the rest and covered in glorious full body tattoos. When he approached, the rest just melted away. He just strode right up to me and with one word commanded me to follow.

With an aire of authority, he took me right down the steps to the circular center of the amphitheater. Once we were there all eyes were on us. In a booming voice he said, "I am THE Phallustine. The one and only, and only I can open the orchestra - so all can watch or join." Pointing to a concrete bench he ordered me to sit. My balls rested on the cold stony seat as I waited.

His cock swung mightily, it was like ten inches long, which surprised me since I had made mine fifteen inches long when I was in the den last. Yet, despite his being five inches shorter, it radiated pure animal gravitas. Something about it was unlike all the other large cocks every top displayed in the den.

He stood before me and with our height difference his beastly and charismatic dick was right at mouth level demanding my attention.

I lifted the heavy slab and leaned forward ready to submit to its power. It was truly a wonder to be craved and attended to.

On my first try I couldn't get it in. Dry and plump it wouldn't go. But with lots of instruction from The Phallustine I learned to slather it with saliva, licking all up and down its length to demonstrate my admiration.

When it glistened thoroughly he told me to try again. The head and a couple inches went right in, filling me up. How could I take any more?

He took hold of my head with two irresistible hands and began pulling and pushing my head. It was slow progress but he worked more and more of the spear-like pike into my mouth. My lips were stretched and my tongue was forced aside and I loved the raw brutality of it.

When the bulbous head touched the back of my mouth I knew we'd reached the limit. But I was wrong. He laced his fingers behind my head, growling, "Come on Dweeb." as his turgid shaft squeezed its way into my throat.

There was no way a cock like his could go into a narrow throat like mine so I assumed this was a trick of the holo projections.

It did hurt a bit. Apparently large cocks hurt when they force their way down a throat, and the designers of holococks made them hurt too. I actually appreciated the realism, knowing that no damage could befall me in this place. If I was going to suck a pretend cock, getting it jammed into me, I wanted the memory to feel genuine.

And it was. I truly thought this was what it was like to be used and abused.

A second guy slid into the bench next to us to watch me suck this big cock. He watched really intently so I glanced his way briefly. He had similar tattoos on his arm but his cock was pretty average.

I understood the appeal of giving yourself a huge cock. And I understood my own motives for giving myself a tiny cock. But why would this man choose to have an average cock? Doesn't every man want one more inch? And having one more inch, wouldn't every man want just one more, until he had a monster cock like most here?

He turned to The Phallustine, "Can I be with him after you?" Well, I guess that explained his intense voyeurism.

Nodding and with his fingers still locked behind my head, The Phallustine looked into my eyes. He was looking at ME and not just my character. He confided, "I've got a secret to tell you." I raised my eyebrows in silent inquiry. "My long hair, my tattoos, my bulging muscles - all holos." He humped harder at my throat, bumping his potently aromatic pubic hair against my lips roughly. "But this heroic cock savaging your face - it's all natural and it's all for you."

The painful invasion of my innermost self suddenly had new meaning. The threat to my well-being was real. Likewise, the relentless assault on my masculinity was just as true.

Fearful, I squirmed frantically. My halo body shimmered briefly, as if trying to decide if I were going to continue as a wimpy slave or return to my everyday recognizable self.

I was mortified to be the subject of a real cock's assault so I willed myself to stay disguised. Sure, he didn't know me, and I would never see him again in my life. But all my sense of safety had left me and this gaseous costume was my only barrier. Worse still, the second guy as well as the gathered audience were witnessing my public plight too. I needed to maintain my anonymity.

My lips were pressed tightly into his wiry pubes and ten inches of real man-meat snaked past them with plenty going beyond my tonsils.

I pushed hard on his muscular thighs to no avail as he just held me fully impaled continuing his soliloquy, "I'm not The Phallustine because I have the biggest cock, but because I'm the best at using it. Do you know what makes me so good?" He didn't wait, "I'm so good because when I look at a person..." his eyes darted to the newcomer's. "...I see who they are. It's like I know their deepest desires."

When I thought I would pass out he relented. Meanwhile I felt a legitimate worry because it was no longer true that I couldn't get hurt here. Eventually he pulled back so only the helmet head stayed inside and I could suck in air around the obstruction.

It had been a while since I'd tasted his precum but now that I knew it was actual human cum all I could think about was his spermy swimmers invading my body. It was sweet and salty and noxiously un-holographic.

I was breathing heavily around his cockhead and when I managed to catch my breath he decided to resume fucking my face. Again I resisted but again he was too strong.

The huge schlong continued right down my throat and all I could do was watch it go. It still pushed against the sides of my esophagus but now I knew the stretching was real. Could it tear me?

I resigned myself to being the object of a real man's lust. When I first came here I'd wanted this as a fantasy, now maybe I wanted it as a reality? How much worse could it be?