Medicine Show

[Longbow9]

First time poster, long time lurker. Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Terry Anderson was, in most ways, an ordinary high school senior. Well, graduate now. He was athletic, with broad shoulders and well toned pecs and arms from four years of lacrosse lacrosse (2 years varsity). His grades weren't stellar, but good enough to get him into a private college on a partial athletic scholarship. He was popular with the girls, but never seemed interested in dating or even sex, an unusual quirk that only made him more mysterious and attractive to the girls at Belmont High.
It wasn't that Terry was gay... at least he was pretty sure he wasn't, though more than a few of the girls he turned down for dates would say otherwise, especially Alice Bertram, who asked him out and was turned down for senior prom twice. Terry actually thought Alice was extremely sexy. The memory of how she had pressed her perky breasts up against his arm when she practically begged him to go to prom with her the second time, flirtatiously promising that she would sneak in some liquor and that she was willing to go "as far as he wanted" kept him warm at night, and he could still feel the heat of her breath on his ear.
No, Terry didn't stay away from the girls because he didn't like them or was too shy to talk to them. The real reason was something Terry never wanted to get out among the general population of Belmont in a million years; he had a very small penis.
It was like... "COME ON, REALLY?!" level small. He'd been online, he'd done hours of research. He knew that the vast majority of nerve endings in the vagina were located within the first four inches, and that with proper technique, a penis didn't have to be very big to give a girl an orgasm.
Terry would have loved to be that big. The most generous measurements performed under the cover of dark in his locked room came in consistently at around 2" fully erect, and a little thicker than his thumb.
The guys on the team all knew. He'd showered with them for four years. They teased him about it constantly, but never with real malice. He was their best midfielder (the rest of the team thought it hilarious that he was "long stick") and their respect for his playing skills kept the jibes to a friendly minimum.
Most of the time, he didn't think about it. His dick didn't have a big impact on the rest of his life as a whole and on average, high school had been a good time for him.
Other times, he thought about it a lot. Especially now that it was only two weeks before the start of his first semester at Bradford.

 

[Longbow9]

Terry lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Peripherally, he could hear May and June, his twin sisters, laughing and talking downstairs with his parents, now home from work. The light from the late afternoon sun climbed slowly up the back of his door.
Inside, his thoughts raced around.
College. College College College. Classes, a new team, new friends. Frats, rushing frats, frat parties, drinking, girls, drunk girls, sex. Damn, sex. Damn. Girls. Sex. What am I supposed to do?
In high school, he had managed to dodge the issue of his small penis for the most part. Even if he really wanted to have sex, he could justify his celibacy to himself. He was too young, he didn't want to get a girl pregnant, there were no good places to do it, etc... College was a different story. If half the descriptions of life at Bradford were true, college was a big huge sex party. There was no way the old excuses could work there. And even if he didn't have sex all through college, what would that accomplish? Would he just not have sex his entire life? What was he supposed to do?
Terry sighed and cursed his father's genes that had made him this way, though the thought of his father gave him a little bit of hope. He knew his dad wasn't much bigger than he was. They shared a membership at the same gym and Terry's curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had to know who was to blame. It was definitely dear old dad.
But in spite of this, his dad had married his mom who was (and Terry only admitted this in the most objective way possible) "bangin' ass hot" even into her mid 40's. In fact, back in her younger days, she had been a Victoria's Secret model, and had done a few Playboy photo shoots as well. Coincidentally another secret that Terry kept from the kids at his school, just in case any of them got the idea to try and find some back issues (January 1979 for all you readers at home). They were not only married, but happily married, and Terry had in eighteen years never picked up at even a hint that his mom might be cheating with anyone.
So there was hope. If a peewee little guy like his dad could bag a girl as hot as his mom was, maybe there was a sexy girl out there for him.
The though cheered him up until he remembered his dad had once confessed in the backyard over a shared six pack ("Don't tell your mother.") that he didn't lose his virginity until he was thirty one.

Terry was stirred from his thoughts by someone calling his name up the stairs.
"Terry! Have you moved all of Grandpa's things out of the attic yet?"
"Not yet, Dad."
"You need to do that after dinner! I've been reminding you for a month now! Come downstairs and help your mother!"
Terry sighed and rolled off his bed.
"You need to make room in the attic for all the stuff you're not taking to college. Grandpa's things are going to Uncle Joe. Don't leave it for us to do." his Dad told him for the fifth time that month.
They were converting his bedroom into an office for his mom. She had started selling cosmetics from home and decided she needed a workspace.
Terry was quiet all through dinner and afterwards shuffled upstairs to the landing and pulled the cord to the trapdoor that led up to the attic.
The attic was packed with junk. Trunks and boxes crowded against one another leaving only a narrow path to squeeze through. His grandfather's things were all the way at the back, of course.

Grandpa Anderson's possessions were as eclectic as the old man had been in life. Grandpa had been, in his time, an army air corps pilot, an insurance salesman, a fuller brush salesman, a maytag repairman, a bounty hunter and had even run his own traveling medicine show out of the immense, filthy trunk now at Terry's feet.
Terry tried to lift it, but it wouldn't budge an inch. Whatever was in it weighed a ton and a half by the feel. He let out a little growl of frustration. The attic was sweltering and somehow he was supposed to haul this monster down that rickety ladder? No way.
"Okay Terry, be smarter than the box..." he said to himself. Obviously he would have to lighten it a little before he could move it. He tried to open the lid. Locked, of course. And it needed a key. God knew where the key was by now.
Terry glanced around for something he could use to force the lid. The lock looked old. I shouldn't put up too much of a fight... He grabbed a crowbar from an elephant's foot umbrella stand and wedged it into the narrow gap between the trunk and the lid. He strained, but the lid didn't budge. Driven now by the heat and frustration, he wedged the crowbar in again and jumped on it with both feet.
*WHAM!*
The crowbar sprung back and springboarded him backwards into a precariously balanced pile of hatboxes which collapsed around him in an avalanche.
"Shit, dammit!" yelled Terry from underneath the pile. He'd bruised his arm and back and ass falling down.
"You okay up there?" Terry's mom's voice called up through the attic floorboards.
"I'm fine!" Terry yelled down the trapdoor.
"You be careful with Grandpa's stuff!" his dad yelled.
"Yeah okay!" Terry yelled back.
He returned his concentration to the trunk, ready to unleash the full fury of the crowbar on it, only to find the latch was broken and the lid was open a crack.
"That's what I thought." he told the trunk.
Inside the trunk was a mobile laboratory and storefront combination. It was packed up like a mad scientist's beginner kit. The whole thing was set up to extend up out of the box on springs. No wonder it was so heavy.
He started emptying the box and setting the contents on the floor beside him. There were still plenty of unsold miracle cures in the trunk. Apparently Grandad had offered the backwater towns of yesteryear cures for everything from acne to "zebra pox". He laughed at a box that proclaimed that it contained "Health radium" before realizing what he was holding and tossing it away like it had burned him.
Irony of ironies, Grandad had even sold "Extension cream", guaranteed to "Bolster masculine attributes. No limit to potential gains!"
He snorted derisively. Of course Terry had thought of penis enhancement. He'd searched desperately online for any sign of a possible technique or pill or device. Once, in a desperate week sophomore year, he had even stolen his father's credit card to order a bottle of pills online. It was a nightmare to intercept the package without tipping off his parents. He'd been the first to jump on the mail for two weeks. In the end, the pills didn't make his dick bigger, and it was a nightmare trying to hide the bottle. He'd finally given up hope that penis extension were possible.
He tossed the jar of cream to the side and pulled a thick sheaf of letters out of the trunk. Curious, even in the heat of the stuffy attic, Terry browsed through them.
They were all love letters. Not even from Grandma. Not even from any one girl. They were all different colors of paper and handwriting. At least ten different girls just in the stack he had grabbed. "Way to go Grandpa" he said under his breath. What he read made his eyes widen.
First of all, he didn't even know people talked (or wrote) dirty back then, but to read this was shocking.
"I can't wait for you to come see me again. I've never come so hard or so many times!"
"You're an animal! I want you inside me! Come back to Arizona soon!"
and one that made his eyes widen:
"When I saw your member, I nearly fainted. I've never seen a thing that big that wasn't attached to a horse! I long to feel your hot seed on my face again."
He started to shuffle through the letters a little more rapidly now. Many more of them expressed similar sentiments...
"Massive cock..."
"...Stuffed me so full..."
"I could barely get my hand around it..."
The excitement of his discovery rushed through him, he had even started getting a little hard. If his grandfather's endowment was as legendary as these letters suggested... then... Why were he and his dad so small?
There was one letter left, at the very bottom. He opened it.
It wasn't from a girl, it was written by his grandfather to a girl named Suzan. Apparently, it had never been mailed. The text was shaky and littered with crossed out sentences and it had obviously been started and restarted several times.
"Dear Suzan," it read "I can't believe you could be so shallow. Don't you know that I love you? Can't you (text unreadable) I know (text unreadable) I understand that I might not measure up to most men in some respects but (text unreadable) love you and you won't find anyone who can be as good to you as I can, I promise I will do whatever it takes (text unreadable)."
The words stood out in his mind might not measure up... Could that have meant?.. Maybe his grandfather hadn't always been so big...
Terry turned the letter over. There was more on the back, but this was written later, and it wasn't a letter... It was a formula.

 

[Longbow9]

I know this is sort of slow to start, hang in there.

 

[Longbow9]

"Extension Cream"
Terry read the list of ingredients and the complex procedures for their combination. He didn't understand it, but it looked an awful lot more legit than the formulas for most "miracle cures". The letters and the formula had planted the glowing ember of an idea in his brain. What if his grandfather's "extension cream" had really worked? Then...
Terry dropped the letters and dove into the trunk to find more jars labeled "extension cream". There were no sign of any others than the one he had thrown away. He searched around. It must have rolled away somewhere! He frantically pushed the piles of papers and jars of "zebra pox" cure aside, scouring the dusty floor for any sign of the jar of extension cream. He dropped low to the ground and started looking between the stacks of boxes.
Found it! On its side between two heavy stacks of newspapers. He squeezed his arm through the crack all the way to his shoulder, but the edge of the jar remained tantalizingly out of reach. He checked it again, then went back to straining against the boxes... almost got it...
The tips of his fingers teased the edge of the jar, when a sudden jolt sent it rolling away.
Someone was on the ladder.
"Rrrrr!" Terry growled in frustration.
"You alright there Terry?"
I was his dad, poking his head up through the trapdoor. He frowned "I thought you were up here working. Is this all you've done this past hour?"
"Sorry, Dad" said Terry, brushing the dust off his arm "The trunk was too heavy to lift, so I started emptying it out..."
"Maybe you should take some of the lighter stuff down first. Don't procrastinate on this... I've been telling you all summer that you need to get this cleared out."
"I know, Dad!"
"Watch it, buddy. I dunno what's giving you this attitude lately, but if you think you're too old for me to take you over my knee you're mistaken."
Terry growled "Alright, okay!"
"Just keep the attitude in check. You've only got a week left to move all your stuff up here and I won't hesitate to start withholding TV privileges if they're keeping you from working..."
"Yes, fine. Sorry."
His father's head dropped back down below the mouth of the trapdoor.
"Chuh. See if I share any of my magic dick extender with you." Terry muttered.
"What was that?" His dad's head popped back up through the trapdoor.
"I said I'm taking stuff down right now."
"Okay. Let me know if you need any help..." his head disappeared again.
Once he had heard his father's footsteps fade downstairs, Terry hurriedly went back to the jar. It had rolled even farther back between the stacks, now almost to the wall of the house. The floor of the attic didn't go all the way around, if he jar rolled nay farther it might fall back down behind the wall!
Terry looked around the attic for something to extend his reach. Bingo. Spare lacrosse stick. He wrenched the long stick free from the pile of disused sports equipment and pushed it through the narrow slot. He snagged the jar easily in the net and pulled it back to him.
He opened the jar excitedly, tearing easily through the ancient paper seal.
His face fell. The contents had obviously dried out in the fifty plus years since the jar had been filled. The cream inside had shriveled down into a small cake that was brittle and cracked.
"Damn..." of course his hopes had been too high. Then again...
He looked over the outside of the jar. "If contents have dried up, just add water until contents are creamy in consistency..."
Terry practically flew down the stairs into the bathroom.

 

[Longbow9]

Terry's heart was pounding. His hands shook underneath the faucet as he ran the water into the small jar of dried extension cream. His heart skipped a little when the jar overflowed and he worried that he might have drowned the stuff. He poured out the excess and broke the cake apart with the handle of an old toothbrush.He stirred the mixture together until it was a thick cream about the consistency of hand lotion. I seemed like it had rehydrated well enough, but that didn't mean it would work after sitting up in an attic for fifty years. He didn't know what the expiration date on a penis enlargement cream might be, but he hoped it had a long shelf life.
Satisfied that the cream was thoroughly mixed, he lifted the jar up again and read the directions.
"Apply to gentlemanly area with gloves or other applicator. Caution: Do not allow cream to come into contact with anything you do not want to grow, this includes hands. Side effects include a tingling sensation in affected area and elevated heart rate."
Terry breathed a small sigh of relief that he had stirred the mixture with a toothbrush instead of his hands. If the formula worked, he didn't want to turn into a freak. He washed the handle of the toothbrush off and set it aside.
Gloves. They didn't keep gloves in the bathroom. He would have to get some from the kitchen downstairs.
Fortunately, the family was in the living room watching the TV and didn't see him dash down behind them into the kitchen, or back up into the upstairs bathroom.
He pulled on the yellow dishwashing gloves and dipped a finger in to get a glob of cream. He didn't need much to spread over his tiny dick, which was erect and hard as a little rock. He spread the cream over his penis and a little bit over his balls "Why not?" he thought. "I wonder how long this takes to work..."
he sat on the toilet in the bathroom for a few long minutes after rubbing the cream thoroughly into the skin of his dick. His heart was still hammering at his chest. Then the tingling started.
"Okay, this isn't so bad.... AH! Wow!" No sooner had he spoken the words than the slight tingling had become a buzz, then a burn. Now it felt like his dick were on fire!
"Oh AHHHH! AH SHIT!" he fell off the toilet onto the ground, knocking the jar down into the sink. He pulled himself up over to the tub as fast as he could. He couldn't walk, the burning was too intense! He cranked the water to full blast and pulled up the stopper to the shower. Still wearing his shirt, he thrust his crotch into the stream of water.
"Ahhhh oh!" he said, even after the cream washed away, the burning lingered.
"Terry, are you okay in there!?" His mother pounded on the door.
"Yes I'm -owww- Kay... I'm OK! I just... ran the hot water too hot is all!"
"Well, be more careful ok?" the door opened. He had forgotten to lock it!
His mom peered around the edge of the door.
"No, Mom, don't come in!" he struggled with the shower curtain. Too late.
The look on his Mom's face said it all. It looked exactly as bad as he thought it did. He had never imagined his tiny boner would have ever felt so obvious or visible as he stood in the shower with his shirt on and his pants around his ankles while wearing his mother's bright yellow dishwashing gloves.
His mom recovered from the shock first.
"Are... Are those my gloves?"
Terry nodded slowly, his mouth still frozen partway open.
"Well... Make sure you wash them and put them back when you're done..."
"O... okay, Mom."
She stepped back out into the hall and closed the door very quietly behind her.
After a couple seconds, he heard her say through the door "Actually... I need to get new ones anyway. You should just keep those..."
Terry sank down until he was sitting in the tub and let the water run on his face for a while.
Once he'd recovered and the burning sensation had faded to the point where he could move, he gingerly pulled his soaking wet pants back on and went over to the sink. He cursed the extension cream.
"Of course it was a fraud, how could I be so stupid!"
He scooped the jar up out of the sink and upended it into the toilet, flushed, then ran the jar under the water until every trace of the damn stuff was gone. He stuffed the jar deep under the rest of the bathroom trash and hobbled out of the bathroom.
The burning sensation lingered and kept him up most of the night, as well as the worry that he might have permanently damaged his already unsatisfactory dick. The sensation had faded by the time he woke up, but his crotch still felt... different somehow. He threw the covers back.
"Oh my God!"

 

[Longbow9]

His dick was definitely bigger. Not huge, but there was no mistake that it had grown. He rushed to his desk and snatched a ruler, eagerly pressing it to the base of his dick. It pressed just past the 4" mark.
"Holy shit..."
He measured it again and again, not believing his eyes. Four inches! The largest his dick had ever been before was just a hair over two! In a single night, his cock had doubled in size! His balls seemed a little bigger, too. That cream really worked!
Then his balloon burst. The cream. He'd flushed it all away!
Terry sank onto the bed, distraught. The only real penis growth medicine in the whole world and he just destroyed the last jar.
"Terry! What the hell!?" May shouted down the hall from her room. He realized that he had been shouting "Fuck!" at the top of his lungs for thirty seconds solid.

His parents had already gone. His mother was out at a meeting with the other girls in her Cosmetics club and his dad was at work. The twins were already up and at the breakfast table when he came downstairs.
"What was all that swearing about, Terry?" asked June.
"Yeah, what the hell?" said May.
Terry shot them nasty looks "I had a nightmare."
"Must have been one hell of a nightmare."
"Yeah, it was pretty terrible."
"Did you dream that you had a tiny pecker and that you'd never get laid in your life?" Smirked June "Oh wait... That's your life."
"Hey, shut the hell up!" he snapped.
"Well what do you expect when you wake me up at 7:30 in the morning during summer break?" June snapped back.
"Whatever, I don't need this from you two!" He stomped out of the kitchen. He'd never resented his sisters so much. He'd always been a little jealous of them. They took after their mother's side of the family. They didn't have to worry about the genetic curse his father's side carried with it. From the looks of things, and he admitted this only because it was too obvious to ignore, they were developing exactly like his mother had. Already as freshmen in high school, their breasts had budded over the course of a few months from training bra size all the way up to a very impressive B cup. If they kept it up, they would reach their mom's 34DD by the time they were Juniors.
Meanwhile he was stuck with this tiny, worthless piece of equipment. So what if he had a 4" dick? 24 hours ago he would have killed for a dick so big, but he knew it was still freakishly small, and the fact that having a normal... or even large dick had been so close only filled him with more frustration. He dug the jar of extension cream out of the trash, desperately searching for even another drop of the precious ointment, but nothing remained. He cursed his thoroughness and sat down on the toilet, hanging his head in his hands.
The phone rang. A few seconds later, June called up the stairs.
"Terry!"
"What?"
"That was Dad, he wanted to know if you were up, and told me to remind you that you need to clear out the attic today!"
Terry jumped up off the toilet. The trunk! Of course!
He ran down the stairs and kissed his sister on the cheek. You're the best sister in the whole world!" he said, grinning like a maniac. He rushed out the door.
June rubbed her cheek, bewildered "okay... just don't be such an asshole in the morning next time..." She muttered.

 

[bookersnooker]

moar

 

[Longbow9]

The formula was still up in the attic with his grandfather's trunk, along with a mobile laboratory that probably had everything he needed to reproduce the cream. Everything, that was, except anything better than a basic understanding of chemistry.
Luckily, he knew who could help. Bruce Whitney. His best friend on the lacrosse team with straight A's in chemistry and Advanced Placement chemistry.
It helped that he was only a ten minute bike ride away.
Terry found Bruce outside mowing the lawn. He dropped his bike by the curb and jogged the rest of the way.
"Bruce!"
"Hey! What's up, Longstick?"
"Har har. Hey I need your help with something."
"Sure, how you been, man? We haven't hung out since the first week of summer. You get yourself a girlfriend who doesn't mind that baby carrot cock of yours?"
"Ok, lay off, alright? It's actually my baby carrot cock I want to talk to you about."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"Not like that." Said Terry "I need your help with something."
Bruce added a smirk to his raised eyebrow.
"Terry, I don't know where exactly this is going but I'm flattered all the same."
"You got straight A's in chemistry, right?"
"Yeah, and Home Ec, but who's counting?"
"Ok.. Well... This is gonna sound weird."
"It already does..."
Terry told the story with as much detail as possible, leaving out of course the part where his mom found him half naked in the shower.
They had gone inside. At the end of the story Bruce leaned forward in his seat and fixed Terry with a long look.
"I don't believe it."
"I know it's incredible, right!? It's doubled in size!"
"No, I mean... I don't believe it. I think you're either mistaken or lying or crazy. I do not believe that your grandpa invented a magic cream to make your dick grow."
"Well, it makes anything grow, he just-"
"I don't believe it. It's insane."
Terry frowned and reached for his fly
"If you want proof I can show you my-"
"Nooooooooooooope!"
"But-"
"Nope nope nopenope nope nooooooooope."
"How else can I-"
"No. Alright? I don't need to see your baby dong. I never paid much attention to how big or I guess I should say how small it was. I wouldn't know it had grown even if you wiggled it in my face."
Terry fell back in his seat.
"I need you to help me with this, man. I can't do it alone. Will you at least come and look at the setup? Even if you won't help me make the formula, I still need to clean the trunk out of the attic and it is too heavy to lift by myself. Can you at least help me with that?"
Bruce thought about it.
"Alright, I suppose it's the least I can do."
"The trunk's heavy, better bring your car."
"I'm not taking the trunk back to my house."
"Well then, give me a ride back to my place."
Bruce rolled his eyes.
They pulled up in front of Terry's house a few minutes later.
"May! June! I'm back and I brought Bruce to help me with the stuff."
May and June clamored down the stairs, pushing each other out of the way.
"Hey Bruce."
"Hey Bruce!"
"Hey May, June! How are you girls doing?"
Terry tugged his shirt "Hey, the trunk?"
"Yeah in a second, I'm talking with your lovely sisters here...Ow!"
Terry punched him a little bit more than playfully hard in the arm.
"What, dick?"
"You were gonna help?"
Bruce frowned. May and June stepped aside for the boys to pass, but still staying close enough to brush Bruce as he went by a little closer than they had to. Terry heard them giggling downstairs as he led Bruce up to the attic.
"See, here's the trunk, and the formula, look. And the letters just like I said."
Bruce looked them over, incredulous. He raised an eyebrow at the formula.
"Do you believe me now?"
"No... But I'll admit that the chemistry seems to add up. To what I dunno, but it obviously was written by someone who knew what he was doing."
"So you'll help?"
It took over an hour to move the contents of the trunk downstairs before they moved the empty trunk itself. The fold up tables were the hardest part. They operated on springs and wouldn't stay folded up if they weren't in the trunk. Eventually, they lugged the entire set-up downstairs.
"Ok, this is as far as I'll go" said Bruce.
They loaded it all up in Bruce's car.
"Ok, but we're taking this stuff straight to the dump."
They took it to Bruce's house.
Bruce resisted every step of the way, but only halfheartedly. He knew even back when he first heard the story that Terry wasn't crazy, though he still didn't really believe his story was true. He wanted to believe though. Even men with average sized dicks get insecure. The thought of maybe adding a little to his trusty, but boring six-incher was tempting to say the least. He was really excited at the possibility, and looked forward to doing a project with his friend, besides.
"Ok, so where do we set this up?" Terry asked.
"Ha!" Bruce laughed "We're not setting up any chemistry set at my house. My parents will probably think it's a meth lab or something. You know how terrified they are that I'll somehow end up falling into drugs. They inspect my room once a week, man."
Terry frowned, he hadn't thought of that. "Then where?" he asked.
They tossed around ideas, but there was nowhere public that they could hide the rig where it would be secure from thieves or people like Bruce's parents, who might mistake it for a meth lab and have it seized by the authorities.
"We have to bring in someone we can trust. Someone else." Said Terry "What about...?"
"Don't say it. No."
"Jeff, what's wrong with Jeff?"
A lot was wrong with Jeff. Jeff was Bruce's older brother. Originally, Bruce's parents had wanted to have only one child, but Jeff turned out to be such a disappointment that his parents decided that even at this late juncture in their lives, they had to have another child that they could raise up right. So now there were Jeff and Bruce. Night and Day.
Jeff was the thirty five year old stoner who sold marijuana out of the back of his broken down Winnebago, his filthy hair and beard hung down to his collar and he changed his clothes once every presidential term. Bruce was the eighteen year old star athlete. Blond hair, crew cut. Good posture, good grades and washboard abs. Mom and apple pie all the way. Every time Bruce did something wrong, his parents threatened him that he would "End up like Jeff."
It took a lot of cajoling, but eventually Bruce wore down and a half hour later, they were pulling up outside Jeff's Winnebago.

 

[attackbake2]

impressive story for delurking. please keep going!

 

[Longbow9]

The Winnebago was filthy. The tiny yard out front was barricaded by a maze of lawn ornaments. Bruce and Terry carefully dodged the languidly pinwheeling limbs of various birds, animals, people and aircraft as they navigated the minefield of dogshit leading up to the screen door of the camper.
Bruce Knocked on the rickety door. There was no reply. He slapped it loudly with his hand. The kncking set off a chorus of loud barks from behind the camper. Terry and Bruce jumped back as a half-dozen dobermans rushed out from behind the camper, only to get stopped several feet short of the boys by their heavy choke chains. They strained and barked wildly, but couldn't reach the pair.
"Hey, Jeff! It's me, Bruce, open up!" he pounded on the doorframe "Open up!"
"Maybe he's not home..." Terry started to say, but was interrupted by a lot of noise and groaning from the inside of the camper.
"I hear you, I hear you." The voice mumbled "Hold your horses..."
Jeff stumbled out of the camper, shielding his bloodshot eyes from the sun. A skinny cat jumped out between his legs and dashed away. Jeff was barefoot, and dressed only in an untied pink bathrobe and plaid boxer shorts. A snub nosed .38 Special glinted in his other hand. The dogs started barking with renewed excitement.
"What do you kids want!? Do you know what time it is?" he damanded. It was almost nine.
Terry and Bruce threw up their hands, even though the pistol wasn't pointed in anything near their direction.
"Woah, woah woah woah!" Said Bruce.
"Woah woah woah yourself. I don't want any trouble. Who are you?"
Bruce lowered his hands a little "It's me, your brother. Bruce."
"Bruce?" Jeff squinted. He broke into a yellow grin "hey brother! It's been a while! Finally decided to ditch the 'rentz? Come here and give Jeff a hug."
"Uh I don't..." Bruce was already enveloped in Jeff's arms. He smelled like a million years of weed that had been soaked into a mildewy bathmat. Terry stepped back from the smell, but jumped forward when the dogs started barking again a few inches behind him.
"It's good to see you again, bro." Bruce smiled "Sorry about all this..." he gestured with the pistol over at the dobermans "Bunch of punk kids have been snooping around lately now that school's out and a couple of 'em broke into my place a few weeks back. I've had to beef up security..."
Bruce looked over at the dogs, who had given up on barking and now just whined and strained on their leashes, several feet short of anywhere where they could intercept an intruder.
"I can see that."
"But don't worry about these fellas. They wouldn't hurt you. They know you're good guys. Animals have a spiritual sense you know. They can see your aura." He turned to the dogs "Isn't that right, my lovelies? Isn't that rights? Oh give us a kiss!"
he stuck his face into the cluster of dogs and they leapt on him and licked his face wildly.
"Their names are Ganja, Muggie, Kilter, Zambi, Giggles and Cheeba." he pointed to each of the dogs in turn.
"That's great, I actually came to talk about something. My pal Terry and I actually need your help."
"Well come in, I'll put on some tea or something. I've got a sweet camp stove set up in here..."
The inside of the Winnebago was twice as pungent as it was hot, and twice as hot as anywhere people lived ought to be.
"Oh, dude, that is rank..." Terry put his shirt up over his nose.
The cramped interior of the camper was littered with beer cans, food wrappers and pizza boxes. The cat had peed everywhere. The small, fold out table was piled high with marijuana bricks, and a small pile of dime and nickel bags rested on the sticky couch. Jeff pushed his blankets out of the way and moved a bong off the seat so they could sit down. They preferred to stand.
While the teapot boiled, Terry told Jeff his story.
"Woah, that's a trip and a half, dude. I can't believe your ding dong sprouted up like that. Can I see?"
Terry looked around uncomfortably "I'd rather not."
"Bummer, that'd be something to see."
"So will you help us?"
"With what?"
"The lab."
"What lab?"
"The one for making more dick enlargement cream!"
"Ohhh yeah. Ok."
"Great. I'll go get it set up."
"Hey, wait, dude, I'd love to help you out for free, but I got bills to pay, you know. Cost of living. It's a capitalist world out there and we all gotta make ends meet, know what I'm saying?"
Terry and Bruce groaned.
"What do you want?"
"I think two fifty bucks would be fair."
"I don't have two fifty."
"Well I can't help you out, dude."
Bruce growled angrily. He'd been growing steadily more uncomfortable as time passed and was eager to leave "come on, Ter, let's just go. I knew this was a bad idea."
Bruce started to drag Terry out by his sleeve, but Terry whirled suddenly.
"Wait!" he said "I've got an idea! Jeff, what if I could pay you back some other way?"
"Yeah?"
"This stuff, we can make as much as we want, if it works, you could sell it to your customers! You've already got the sales network! I'm sure a genuine penis enlarger would be worth a hell of a lot more than weed!"
Jeff thought about it.
"Alright. That sounds fair."
"Yess!" Terry pumped his fist, pulling his shirt down from his face "Oh, God" he coughed.
So they unloaded the car and spent three hours clearing a space for the lab inside the Winnebago. Bruce had to promise to find a good home for about a thousand issues of "Car and Driver" magazine, and they had to go to the nearby Kwikstop to grab some garbage bags for all the food containers and pizza boxes, but eventually, except for the cat-pee and the soaked in smell of marijuana smoke, the camper was almost livable. They bid Jeff goodbye and headed back for home.
"Ok, tomorrow, we get to work on making more of this cream." said Terry. Bruce was silent in the driver's seat, he snorted.
"What's up man? You've been quiet since we unloaded the lab."
"I smell like weed."
"Huh?"
"I smell like weed!"
Terry smelled his clothes "Ugh, so do I. I need to take a shower after all that sweating, too. Ugh."
Bruce went on as if he hadn't heard "Do you know what my parents will say when they smell me smelling like this!?"
"Well I suppose they'll..."
"Do you know what their biggest fear is, Terry? Their biggest fear?"
"That-"
"That I'll start smoking weed, Terry! This damn dick cream of yours had better be worth it!"
"It is, Bruce I swear it works!"
"It'd better, damn it."
"At least you have time to change before your parents get home. How am I going to explain this to my sisters?" Terry sniffed his shirt again.
"You should change before you get there. My parents are at work all day. You can borrow some of my clothes."
"Thanks, man. You don't have to-"
"It's alright. Let's just get your dick cream so that you can get laid and neither of us have to hang around Jeff ever again.
Terry laughed.
Back at the house, Terry and Bruce stripped down and tossed their clothes into the washing machine.
"Oh God, it's soaked into my boxers, too." groaned Terry.
"You're not borrowing my underwear, man."
"It's ok, I'll just go commando in your pants."
"You can keep those pants. You're not getting into my underwear."
"Whatever, turn away, I'm gonna toss these in the machine."
Bruce turned his back and Terry stripped off his boxers and tossed them into the washing machine. Bruce handed him a pair of jeans over his shoulder. He wasn't able to avoid sneaking a look. Maybe Terry had gotten a little bigger...
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Really. Don't mention it."
Bruce dropped Terry off at his house and drove away.
"Where were you all day!?" May demanded.
"And why are you wearing different clothes?" asked June.
"My other clothes got messed up at the dump. Bruce let me borrow these."
"It took you four hours to drop one trunk off at the dump?"
"Yup. Maybe it wouldn't have taken so long if you two had helped."
"Whatever." May and June said together, and went back upstairs.

 

[Longbow9]

Getting the lab up and running turned out to be more difficult than they thought. None of the rubber tubes were still flexible after forty years and they crumbled as soon as they tried to bend them into position. Some of the flasks and beakers had broken, too. It ended up being a scavenger hunt to find rubber tubes on the cheap, and the other equipment had to be replaced with makeshift materials surreptitiously stolen from their homes.
The other hard part was ingredients, in addition to simple things like yeast and Borax soap, the formula called for more esoteric materials, like ground hemp. Fortunately that at least was not so hard for them to come by, though Jeff was loathe to give up any of his supply. The other chemicals were harder to find, and sometimes the recipe called for products which didn't exist anymore and they had to find modern substitutions whose formulas weren't too different from the original to work.
It took five more days to get the lab up and running. On the plus side, the Winnebago became progressively more livable. Bruce had insisted that the carpet be cleaned as much as possible to remove the cat urine, and a battery of air fresheners killed the marijuana smell somewhat. After a few false starts where the formula had to be tweaked, the little lab was eventually producing a drizzle of white cream which they collected in a jam jar.
"Do you think this is the genuine stuff?" Asked Bruce, pulling down his surgical mask.
"Only one way to find out." said Jeff, reaching his hand into the jar.
"Jeff, no!" Terry yelled, grabbing his hand.
"Hey, man. There's plenty for you, don't be grabby."
"No, I mean, that stuff will grow anything it touches, not just dicks. You don't want to put your hand in there..."
"Oh..."
"So, how do we test it?" asked Bruce.
Terry was hesitant, remembering his experience last time. The others looked over at him.
"Do you have a hose or anything? I'm probably going to need a lot of water to wash my junk off. Even when it works, it burns."
"Yeah, I've got a hose out back. I still have two more notices before they turn off my water, too."
"Great..."
"Dude, you're going to test this on yourself?" Bruce asked.
"I guess so. Why, did you bring a lab rat or something?"
"Well, no, it's just..."
"I'm pretty sure we got the formula right, and we don't have any other way of testing it. If it doesn't work, or if it works wrong, I've got the least to lose..."
Bruce frowned "Alright, but be careful for goodness' sake. If anything looks like it's going wrong, we're taking you to a hospital and you will have to explain the embarrassing mess you've got yourself into..."
Terry had thought ahead this time and brought a pack of rubber gloves with hims that he snapped into place over his hands. He grabbed the jar and took it into the cramped Winnebago bathroom.
With two fingers he scooped a tiny dab up out of the jar and spread it over his dick. Even in the hot, cramped, smelly Winnebago, his excitement was enough to give him a hard on. He spread it over his dick as before, avoiding his balls as much as possible. The words "chemical castration" suddenly jumping to the forefront of his mind.
He waited. After a few minutes, the tingling sensation started. He winced, prepared for what was coming next. The tingling advanced slowly into a buzzing, then to a slight sting, but the burning never came. In fact, the experience wasn't that unpleasant. Weird, but not unpleasant. He put the lid back on the jar and took his gloves off, careful not to touch any of the cream to his skin.
"You ok in there? Is it working?"
"I dunno. It's not burning. I dunno if that means it's working or not, last time, it burned."
He waited to be sure the cream had soaked completely into his skin, then pulled up his pants and left the bathroom.
"Well?" Asked Bruce.
"Is it growing?" asked Jeff.
"I don't know, last time, it took overnight. It feels pretty weird though... ahhh woah!"
"What? What!?"
"Nothing, just a kind of big buzz just then. It feels like I've got a joy buzzer on my crotch."
"Well, what now?"
"I guess I take the cream and head back home. I've barely gotten anything else out of the attic. If it works, I'll keep using it."
"If it works, make sure you share some with me."
"You can get your own, the lab's still producing." Terry gestured over to the little tube, which continued to drizzle into another jam jar that replaced the first.
As they had for the past week, Bruce and Terry stopped by Bruce's house first to change clothes and throw their other clothes in the washer. Terry stopped by in Bruce's bathroom first to watch his dick for any change. It remained stubbornly the same size, in spite of the tingling. He threw on his clothes and headed out.
Terry's parents and sisters were waiting for him when he got home. He hadn't realized it was almost four thirty.
"Hi!"
"Where have you been?"
"Hanging out with Bruce, he's been helping me with the attic and..."
"Really? Is that why the attic is still almost as full as it was a week ago?" his mom interrupted.
"Well work's been going slow..."
"Don't lie to us, son, tell the truth. Where have you been going?" asked his father.
"Really, I've been hanging out with Bruce, ask May and June!"
"We've seen you leave with him."
"And come back wearing different clothes." They said
"The dump and... and..."
His mother teared up a little "Why do you feel that you have to keep this from us, son?"
"Do you like to see your mother cry? You think we don't know what's been really going on? You won't make us angry if you tell the truth."
"It's the silence that hurts." his mother sniffled.
"Really, it's nothing..."
His father grimaced "Girls, leave the room."
May and June backed away, but lingered around the edge of the door.
"All the way out."
The pair disappeared.
"Sit down, son." said his dad.
Terry took off his backpack and sat down in the lounge chair, his parents sat down on the couch opposite. The tingling was stronger than ever, now. Not ever quite painful, but it felt like a cellphone on vibrate was stuffed down his underwear, he was surprised it didn't make an audible buzzing sound.
"Son... I know it's probably difficult for you to tell us, but we have to know the truth. Are you-"
"It's nothing, it's not drugs!"
"Are you in a homosexual relationship with Bruce?" his father finished.
"Am I... Wait, what?"
"Just answer yes or no."
"Yes or no... Are you asking if I'm gay?"
"We've noticed all the time you spend with him, you come back in different clothes all the time. You mother has noticed certain... strange behavior..."
Terry couldn't believe what he was hearing, and it didn't help his concentration that it felt like ants were marching up and down his cock.
"I'm not... ooh... I'm not gay, okay? Bruce and I are just good friends."
"I know you've never seemed very interested in girls..." his mother said "You've never even had a girlfriend."
"Well yeah, but that's because... grrg" something was definitely happening now. He could feel a raging boner building up in his pants. Normally, that was never an issue, but this time...
"You don't have to feel uncomfortable with us, son. Bruce is a very nice boy, he's very attractive." his mother continued.
A lengthening, thickening erection began to climb down his trouser leg. However big his dick was now, it was definitely not 4" anymore. Terry looked down to see if it were visible through his pants. His father glanced down for a split second as well. His expression tightened.
"Look, I'm... I'm not gay. I just... have to go!" before his parents could object, he'd grabbed his backpack and dashed out of the living room and into the upstairs bathroom, he closed and locked the door behind him. He shoved his pants down around his ankles and stared at his dick. It was growing before his very eyes. Slowly, like the creeping of an hour hand, but steadily. It must have been growing the whole time since the Winnebago, by now it had to be almost five inches long. He laughed and reached into his backpack for the jam jar full of cream. He pulled on another pair of rubber gloves from his backpack and scooped some more cream onto his dick, massaging it thoroughly over the shaft and balls. He could make up an explanation to his parents later. Right now, he was going to enjoy his new equipment...

 

[Elro]

nice !

 

[Longbow9]

More to come soon.

 

[d15c]

wow, this is really well-written

 

[RedRedef]

Great story so far, I'm likin the setup and characters

 

[technogeek]

more... great story so far

 

[Reekwind]

Great writing. Keep this up!

 

[Longbow9]

Bruce almost didn't notice his cell phone vibrating.
"Hello?"
It was Terry's excited voice on the other end.
"Hey dude! It works! The stuff works!" he laughed so loud Bruce had to hold his ear away from the phone.
"Well, thank goodness for that."
"Haha! Yeah! This is awesome, man! I just passed six and a half inches! How big did you say you were? Six? I'm bigger than you now, man!"
"Enjoy it while it lasts, Longstick." Bruce smirked into the phone.
"What?.. Oh man! You're using it!? You're using the cream?"
"Yeah."
"Couldn't wait, huh?"
"Well, you know, after you left, I double checked the formula and it all checked out. And it didn't seem like anything bad happened... You were right about the buzzing, though. Oh man. It feels like there's a swarm of bees building a hive on my nuts!"
"How big have you gotten?"
"I just started a half hour ago. Maybe I've gained a quarter inch or so?"
"Yeah, well, be careful, man. Remember when I first used it, my cock doubled in size. If you don't use that stuff sparingly, you could end up with a footlong!"
"Don't worry, I only used the minimum amount to cover it completely."
"That's good."
"Terry?"
"Yeah?"
"This stuff had better not make my dick fall off..."
They laughed and shot the shit for a while about how awesome it was going to be to be the biggest guys in college.
"I gotta go, my parents are back." said Bruce when he heard the sound of his father's Passat pulling into the driveway. His mother's Beetle pulled up a few seconds later. Bruce dashed up the stairs with his bag and the cream, stashing the evidence under his bed. His cock was really tingly now. He could practically feel it getting larger as it swelled against the pouch of his jockey shorts. He got dressed in a hurry and ran downstairs to greet his parents.
"Hey guys."
"Brucie!"
His dad smiled and playfully jabbed at his son like a boxer, dancing and weaving in place against pantomimed blows.
"There he is, world champ! What'd you do to stay busy today, sport?"
"I went on a three mile run and I did a load of laundry. I worked on some summer chemistry homework, too."
So called "Summer chemistry homework" was Bruce's cover explanation for the loose sheets of chemical formulas his parents had discovered on their last sweep of his room. For the next several days, they'd followed his progress in a fictitious summer AP chemistry correspondence course with aggravating interest. He'd had to make up a whole bunch of new, fictitious assignments on top of the real one he was working on for Terry.
"A three mile run and a load of laundry? That's not keeping busy, Sport. I hope you're not losing steam just when college is only a week away! You don't wanna-"
"'End up like Jeff', I know." Bruce finished.
His parents laughed.
"I was going to say you don't wanna waste the last couple days of summer that you could spend making memories! You know there won't be much time for that at Amherst! Study study study!" his dad's grin faded slightly and he snorted "'end up like Jeff?' we haven't pulled that one out since you were sixteen."
"When I borrowed the car without asking and ran it into our mailbox, yeah."
His parents laughed with nostalgia. His mom wiped away a tear.
"Well, son." his dad started "It's funny you should bring up Jeff. I know we've been kind of strict on you because of the mistakes he made, and your mother and I have been talking and, well, we decided it's not fair to treat you like a child anymore. After all, we can't inspect your room at Amherst, or keep you from playing when you should be studying. So we've decided-"
"We've decided that we're not going to inspect your room anymore!" His mom butted in, brimming with excitement.
"Hang on honey, we agreed I was going to get to tell him."
"Oh right, sorry." she giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth.
Bruce couldn't believe what he was hearing. He nearly completely forgot about the growing tightness in his pants.
His father continued "That's right, son. After today, there'll be no more! This is the last one!"
His mom pulled her digital camera out of her purse and grinned with excitement, her heels clattered on the hardwood floor as she danced in place.
Bruce's elation dropped down into the pit of his stomach like a stone. He'd forgotten completely that it was Monday! An inspection day! His thoughts zoomed up the stairs to the black backpack poking out from under his bed.
His parent's noticed the sudden disconnect.
"What's the matter, son? Something on your mind?"
There was a lot on his mind. And his balls, actually. His dick was definitely growing faster now. Jockey shorts were a huge mistake. His dick was too well tucked in to snake down a trouser leg. It had nowhere to go, so it made due by squeezing itself up against his balls. Gotta think fast... Bruce put on his best hangdog expression, it was easy with the pain.
"Aw, gee. That's great, but I forgot to clean my room this morning! I don't wanna fail my last inspection."
His parents both laughed and his father shooed the idea away with his hand.
"Pfff! That's okay. This last one's only a formality anyway. You've already passed. Let's go!"
They locked their arms underneath his and dragged him up the stairs. There was nothing he could do now except hope they didn't inspect too thoroughly...
His father pushed the door open and surveyed the room. Bruce actually had remembered to clean it that morning and everything was squared away.
"Well, this doesn't look bad at all. And you were worried that it would be too messy!"
"Ooops!" his mom exclaimed "Here's what! He left his backpack under the bed!" she reached down to scoop it up. A barely audible "no!" squeaked through Bruce's lips, but by now he was using up all his energy to remain standing as his massive cock pushed itself into every possible centimeter of his underwear. Tears filled his eyes and he swore to never buy slim fit jeans again for as long as he lived.
His mother's smile faded the second she had lifted the backpack up to eye level to snap a photo "Oh gosh! That stinks!" She exclaimed "What is... Oh my God!"
"Honey! Don't take the- Oh Jesus!" his father's nostrils flared. "That's, that's marijuana!!" he exclaimed, pronouncing both the "j" out loud as well as the "h".
Bruce threw up.

 

[Longbow9]

(It helps if you picture Bruce's dad being played by Phil Hartman.)

 

[Longbow9]

Maybe it was the feeling of his nuts in a vice or the sight of his worst fear coming true, but Bruce couldn't hold it in any longer. He blew chunks all over the floor of his room, then, choking and coughing on a mouth full of used Pop Tarts, he ran into the bathroom.
The first thing he did was tear open his pants. He practically ripped them off as he yanked them down, underwear and all. He barely had time to notice the monster boner that sprang up before he was hunched over the toilet, heaving again.
The pain in his balls faded and his vision cleared. He looked down at his rapidly swelling cock. Free from the oppressive bonds of his jockey shorts, it had sprung to rock hard attention. Fat veins throbbed along the top of the shaft, pulsing in rhythm with a fat head the size of a strawberry.
He looked over his shoulder. The door was wide open and his parents both stood in the doorway. He turned around again and rapidly attempted to shove his massive erection back into his ill chosen slim-fit jeans. The boner just didn't want to go down, even with both hands pressing down on it. It was like trying to tip over a flagpole. He also wasn't too frantic to notice that even gripping his cock with both hands, there still would have been plenty of room for a third. His parents stared, aghast as he eventually stuffed his member down his left leg and finished buttoning up his pants. Even with his back turned, they could see it bobbing in the bathroom mirror as he wrestled with it.
His father finally sputtered out "Is this what you've been doing this past summer? Smoking weed and dosing yourself with Viagra!? Have you been in our medicine cabinet!?"
"Oh, Dave!" his mom buried her face in his father's chest.
"I've heard about this..." he said, stroking his wife's hair "It's called 'hard blunting.' I'm sure I heard Jeff talking about it. Yeah, something like that! You've been 'hard blunting', son!"
Bruce wiped his mouth and growled with exasperation.
"Oh for Chrissakes!"
"Language!" his father barked.
Bruce steadied himself, his chest heaved as he drew in deep breaths.
"'Hard blunting' isn't even a real thing, I'm 100% certain you just made it up off the top of your head just now!"
"Then how do you explain why your bag smells like marijuana!?"
Bruce had to stop and think for a second. He'd been so stupid! He'd always remembered to wash his clothes, but after a while he'd gotten so used to the smell of Jeff's camper he hadn't noticed that his backpack had started to smell, too.
The tightness in his pants was still distracting. It was distracting his father, too, who couldn't take his eyes away from the throbbing bulge in spite of himself. In eighteen years, Bruce had almost never lied to his parents, but he had learned to tell the truth very well.
"I was hanging out with Jeff!" he said.
"Ah ha! Doing hard blunts!"
"No, doing..." Bruce's eyes cast around and settled on the framed painting of Jesus on the wall behind his father's head.
"Bible study! I was at Jeff's Winnebago doing Bible study with him! Terry was there, too. He can vouch for me!"
"Terry, huh? We'll be sure to speak to his parents about what's been going on! And if you were doing Bible study, how come there's no Bible in your backpack? Just a bunch of cut off lengths of rubber hose and pliers-"
"Summer chemistry equipment!"
"-and this jam jar full of... what is this stuff?"
His mother had finally unburied her head from his father's chest and looked into the jar.
"Oh my goodness, Dave! It's SEMEN!" she screamed.
Bruce's father jumped back with a startled "Grahhh!" and the jar leapt out of his hands and shattered on the floor, splattering white gunk all over the bathmat and tiles. Bruce thanked God none of it had gotten on him, or his parents. Explaining swollen lumps all over their body on top of everything else was the last thing he wanted to do. Bruce's dad frantically wiped his hands on his shirt and the towels on the towel rack.
"Clean this up!" his father shouted "And once you're done, you're going to bed without supper! We'll talk about this tomorrow. I don't even want to look at you right now!"
His father stormed off down the hall, cradling his sobbing mother in his arms. He shot an angry look back over his shoulder and descended the stairs.
Bruce sighed and went to the hall closet for the mop.
It was a long night. He didn't see or speak to his parents for the rest of the evening, though he could see the light of the TV on the wall above the stairwell, they were watching with the sound too low for him to hear. He stayed up long after the TV had gone dark and the house was silent, staring and the streetlight on the ceiling and watching the monster shadow of his cock on the wall. It gave him no comfort. He finally rolled over and fell asleep, dead tired. His parents came up early in the morning and stood at his door for several minutes, but he didn't hear them.