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My Boyfriend.

My boyfriend came home late, and immediately pulled me into our bedroom. We stripped down, kissing, hugging, groping. His hand found its way to my shaft, gently massaging and stroking. I gasp, it feels different somehow; hotter, harder. It felt as though, with every stroke, I had more and more to for him to touch, and to my surprise, I did.

“Let’s see how much you can take.” He whispered.

It wasn’t the fact that he was somehow making my penis grow, inch by inch, foot by foot. Nor was it that he made it do so until it was too large for me to stand, much to my protests. It wasn’t even the fact that he began to grow transparent and gelatinous as a car pulled into the drive; as my boyfriend’s car pulled in.

It was that grin as the lock on the front door began to turn, as my testicles began to rapidly swell to catch up to my monstrous member. It was that smile as every last drop of that imposter stuffed itself into my genitals. It was that single sentence as, faintly, masked from the sound of footsteps walking down the hall toward our bedroom, it utters before the last disappears into my being.

“Let’s see how much he can take.”