Teaser in Process: Barry's Blue Balls

Content Warnings: Hyper Inflation, Penis Inflation, Baked Goods/Foodplay, Balloon Play, M/M Sex, Sexual Tension.

 Here's something I wrote up to get my juices flowing for commission work, it's just the first 1,200 words of a story I'm prepping for later. I hope everyone who's into this sort of thing will find it enjoyable for now!

 Barry leaned into the meat of his palm. His cheek squished up against it, forcing his already dark, sleep ringed eyes to close tighter. The two cans of Monster he shotgunned before class failed to do their job, and instead of providing him with a sense of alertness he just felt jittery; staying up till three in the morning playing Final Fantasy was, apparently, not good for you. Especially if you had to wake up at six to attend an eight o’clock lecture on the importance of tensile strengths in clothing production. He eyed the third can of Monster in front of him, opened and hissing carbonated promises of wakefulness. He took a swig, then felt a nudge underneath the long university table from the person sitting next to him.

 “Your heart is going to explode with the amount of those you drink,” said a deep, accented voice that was quick and rich with the colloquial Scottish of his Glaswegian neighbour. Aaron was a tall, dark haired man. A couple of years younger than Barry, but a foot and a half taller than he was with a build tailor made for professional wrestling. His thick limbs, barrel chest, and full stomach were three terrible distractions when Barry tried to seriously absorb the contents of a lecture, the fact that he was so guileless and sweet didn’t help.

 “Maybe, or maybe I’ll explode from all the fizz,” Barry mimed an explosion by closing his fist then opening it slowly while whispering ‘boom.’ 

 Aaron sighed. “You look shite,” he said. He was brutally honest, too. A fact that often got him in trouble, especially on group projects. There was never any malice behind his words, but still, there probably wasn’t a person in the class who could take his earnest criticisms of their work with good humour. No matter how spot on his points were.

 “Would you believe me if I said I’ve got an ancient magic curse that can only be solved by chugging lots of caffeine and sugar?” 

 “No,” Aaron groaned. “You were up late grinding again.”

 Barry’s thoughts immediately turned to filth. He imagined himself atop a wide, brightly coloured shape. His thighs to either side, straddling its deliciously taut contours with his bulge sliding back and forth, making it bend and bow under his weight. Oh, that’s right. Balloon fetish. Somehow, Barry had a blissful few minutes where he forgot how much of a sexual weirdo he was. 

 “... Barry, are you alright?” 

 Barry snapped back to reality, boxer briefs throbbing. The table hid tent in his jeans from sight, he had never been more glad to be wearing jeans in his life. If he had gone with tracksuit bottoms like he initially planned, things would be far more difficult to hide. He was on a hair trigger today, the slightest thing seemed to give him erotic daydreams. He hadn’t masturbated in a day or two, but he was in his mid twenties. It was normal to slow down - he wasn’t a randy teenager any-more - though sitting next to his crush the WWE Gentle Giant in the making certainly reminded him of that adolescent horniness.

 “I’m fine, probably just some horrible sickness that’s going to turn out to be zombie-flu or something,” Barry yawned. The lecturer had stopped for a break, and the room filled up with ambient chatter. He looked back to Aaron and hummed. “How do ‘you’ know I was up late making Gil, stalker much?” He smirked.

 Aaron replied flatly. “You added me to your friends list, we literally did our roulette dungeons together yesterday.” 

 Barry flushed. “I knew that, uh, what are you doing tonight?”

 There was a pause between them. An awkward shift in the tone of the conversation, one that Barry realized too late after speaking. He meant for his question to come out with a casual air, something light and unassuming. What actually left his mouth was a squeaky, almost desperate sounding inquiry. Like he was the underdog in some cheesy young-adult romance movie, plucking up the courage to check his love interest was free before the prom. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Barry watched him from the corner of his eye. 

 Aaron blushed.

 “I’m... baking,” he said.

 “You bake?” 

 “Uh, yeah,” Aaron said. “It’s actually my main hobby, besides video games, I really like baking. Always have.”

 Barry stretched, his shoulders popped satisfyingly. “So why are you taking a course on fashion production if you’re so good at baking?”

 “Uh, I never said I was good at it.”

 “Are you?” Barry inquired.

 “I am, but well, I guess I just wanted something to do,” Aaron had an awkwardness to his voice, one that wasn’t there usually. The way he said the course was just ‘something to do’ felt odd, there were plenty of videos online you could watch if you just wanted to learn how to sew. He didn’t seem like the sort of person who had a rich upbringing either, or even lots of money to spare, so paying out of pocket for a university course seemed wasteful. 

“You’re not going to turn out to be some sort of strange fashion-baker are you, because right now I’m imagining Lady GaGa in a dress made of glazed doughnuts and that’s probably a lot more exciting than the reality.” 

 Aaron. “I prefer cream filled things, really,” he said, trying to divert the subject away from his reasons for attending university. 

 And lo and behold Barry’s imagination transported him to what he imagined Aaron’s bedroom was like. He was sat there, naked, eating doughnut after doughnut. He picked up a round, cream filled doughnut, and bit it with such force it burst all over his chest. He did it again with another, then another, until his wide facing breasts were covered in sweet smelling cream. He locked eyes with Barry and rubbed the white mixture into his skin, then made a show of trying to raise one heavy moob to his mouth to try and lick it off. When he couldn’t do that, he beckoned Barry over with a finger. And Barry complied, drooling at the thought of running his tongue along the giant’s cleavage.

 “Hey Barry?” 

 Barry snapped back to reality, afraid his imagination had leaked out and revealed itself to the class. But when he looked at Aaron there wasn’t a look of utter disgust, just mild confusion. 

 “Was our desk always so slanted?” He pointed at the section of Barry’s desk which was at an angle. “Your stuffs practically rolling off.”

 Barry felt pressure between his legs, higher and harder than he had ever felt in his life. Without checking, he knew exactly what had propped the wooden university desk at an angle. This was probably not a good time to go to the bathroom and sort himself out, it was bad enough having an erection in the middle of class. It was going to be even harder to explain to everyone why his penis was pumped up like it was.

 How exactly do you tell people you have Tanuki blood?

 And not just ‘Tanuki blood’ as in you drink it as an erectile dysfunction aid or something to make your erections last longer. ‘Tanuki blood’ as in your great-great-great-great-whatever decided they’d fall in love and have a bunch of kids with an actual yokai, and because of that, you had a few magical powers, and a penis with the fully erect size of a fucking bouncy castle spire.

 “Hang on, let me see if there’s something underne--”

 “No!” Barry exclaimed, making Aaron look at him strangely. “I mean... nnnoooo it’s fine, I’m not bothered, you can hardly notice it!”