LoakaChunk

Measure Of A Man - Part 1

Added 2023-11-28 04:25:53 +0000 UTC

Sorry for the wait on this one. I'm trying to do something a little longer, but I also didn't want to leave everyone hanging. So here's part one while I get to work on part two! Enjoy :)

“I don’t care what it takes! I’m just tired of being a weakling!”

Reese stamped his foot, but rather than accentuate his outburst with a loud thump, it appeared to the crone as the impatient tap of a petulant child. She sighed. Other witches would have taken this young man for all he was worth and then some, but she wasn’t the cruel sort. Still, magic wasn’t an endless bounty of wishes.

“I can see that,” the crone allowed, “but ye must understand. The magics never give anything for free. There’s always a price te be paid.”

“I’ll pay, although a farmer’s son doesn’t make much coin…”

“Put yer purse away, boy,” the crone waved away the offer. “The price is seldom so simple as gold. Nae, you’ll be paying in far greater remuneration. There’s no gain without loss, no grow without shrink. If you want to be a big man like yer father, like the rest of the villagers, you’ll have to give up something else. Something ye may no wish to part with.”

This finally made Reese pause. The crone didn’t deny he was slight of stature bordering on stunted, but he was young and healthy. He still had many years left to grow into a proper man, marry a pretty wife, and sire more strapping lads of his own. But as the runt of his particular litter, he’d clearly suffered. While his brothers and sisters grew, he remained almost childlike, and children could be so cruel. Even in a peaceful village like his.

There were a few moments of silence as Reese stared at the thatch roof of the crone’s hut. Then, “What sort of price would I pay?”

The crone chortled. “If I were a crankier witch, it’d be your first or second born, but I’ve no stomach for children. I won’t take that much from ye, but the magic will take something else all the same. I cannae say what it may be. It might be your hair. Might be your fair skin. It might be your sense of smell…”

Reese frowned, but it was one of resolve. “Do it. I’ll pay whatever the magic requires.”

The crone sighed again. “Very well.” She picked up what appeared to be a branch and moving far more quickly than a woman of her advanced years should, she whacked Reese upside the head, then the stomach, and then his foot. Reese then recoiled so hard he fell back onto the dusty floor.

“It’s done,” the crone stated flatly.

“That’s it?”

“What were ye expecting? A bunch of flashing lights and hocus pocus?” The crone offered the boy a hand up, which Reese took. “Magic ain’t like taa. It’s quick and brutal at first, then it becomes inexorable. Keep this in mind, youngun’.”

“Do I have to do anything?” Reese asked as he regained his footing.

“Nothing t’all. Or atleast, nothing you weren’t already going t’do anyway.”

Reese thanked her and then left, smiling and satisfied. The crone wondered if he’d still be feeling that way in a few months. Although she didn’t know what the price would be before she cast her spell, she didn’t tell Reese she’d find out afterward. She’d not been able to see the boy’s endowment until his slacks had been pulled tight after he’d fallen to the ground. She sighed a third time, sad knowing she’d never see it again.

Reese returned home and joined the rest of his family in performing the daily chores. His tasks were the ones normally reserved for the women, but his stout sisters plowed and planted while he milked the cow and gathered the hen’s eggs. At least the rest of the village’s boys hadn’t dropped by to make fun of him again.

If it were just the name-calling, Reese probably wouldn’t have sought out the old crone. But he knew from mere observation that the women of his village preferred their men big and strong, two words didn’t describe Reese in the slightest. The one time he’d asked a girl to the barn dance, she’d laughed in his face and told him to ask again after he’d grown into a real man.

It had been 19 summers. Most boys his age had already married or at least tussled in the hay a few times. But no matter--soon, he’d be just as big as his brothers and cousins, and then he’d have his pick of the girls.

Reese was so happy that night that he had seconds for dinner, and his parents commented that perhaps he’d finally gotten an appetite. Later that night, Reese celebrated by going to the outhouse to satisfy his excitement in the light of the moon. It always took him some time, and privacy was hard to come by at the house.

Being young and inexperienced, he thought his lengthy wanks had to do with his small hands compared to his cock. He’d always had trouble getting one hand to reach all the way around and often resorted to a two-handed approach. Anyone watching would see the young man working himself like a butter churner, only with a handle as big as the boy’s arm and a foreskin like a winter sock.

His production would have been the envy of any churner. After several minutes, there was already a puddle of his pre at his feet. As sweat beaded on Reese’s brow, he thought of how good it would be to finally have a body to match his endowment. To be as strong as his father, as muscular as his third cousin, to pull a cart himself like one of the stallions his family kept.

He kept thinking about those big, virile men as his pumping reached a frantic pace. He never once imagined any of them fucking their stout wives, even though that’s what normally sent him over the edge. It was just the men, and their big, hulking bodies and their enormous fucking cocks.

Reese shot perhaps the biggest load of his life that night. It was so big he’d felt the need to cover it in reeds and mud afterward lest his family find it in the morning. He then went home to sleep, dreaming of someday soon joining the ranks of the men he so admired.

A month later, Reese was almost a different person. He’d grown a foot taller, and while his overall stature was still somewhat lithe, he rejoiced in his newfound height. He was also consistently out-eating even his burly siblings. Reese’s parents couldn’t have been prouder, with his father announcing he’d take part in the harvest later in the season.

The women of the village had also taken note of Reese’s sudden growth spurt. He’d caught a few eyes glancing his way in the village square. He hadn’t actually talked to any of the people whose eyes were attached to, but he figured at his current rate, he’d feel comfortable approaching a girl in no time.

In the meantime, his larger hands made his nightly visits to the outhouse a far more enjoyable endeavor. Finally able to circumnavigate his enormous shaft, Reese gleefully pumped out load after load imagining himself as a huge man, hauling hay bails on both shoulders as he put horses to shame with his strength and virility.

In his dreams, women were fawning over him, but he never once remembered their features. He’d only recall his rippling muscles, heaving balls, and towering dick. Some mornings he’d wake up to find his sheets coated in his night’s emissions. During the day, his mind would often wander to those dreams, leading him to take frequent breaks to quell his raging urges. But if this was the price the crone had mentioned, Reese gladly paid it.

It was three weeks later that Lane approached Reese at the dance. She’d commented on how Reese had grown--taller, mostly, but thicker too. No longer the undesirable waif, Reese was now the budding stud who had caught the eye of a lovely maiden. He’d reflexively agreed to meet her after the dance, and the two quickly descended into carnal delights. She’d been more than surprised at his endowment and even winced upon his entry, but she left the encounter thoroughly satisfied, commenting she’d not be able to sit right for a week.

Reese also went to bed that night satisfied, but with a nagging sense that something wasn’t quite right. Lane was pretty enough, but as he thrust wildly into her, he’d not been able to climax. It wasn’t until he’d imagined her as the burly man he wished to be that he’d filled her with his seed. It was only a coincidence that he’d cum just as she’d reached her own peak.

That night he dreamed of deflowering Lane, only just as he reached his utmost, he looked down and saw that it was himself he was penetrating. Rather than shocking himself into inaction, it pushed him over the edge, and he had yet another mess to clean the following morning.

Things changed after that. Rather than growing taller, Reese began to fill out. In a few short weeks he’d grown broad in hips and shoulders, but also a prominent paunch that rivaled even his father’s. Reese was easily able to overlook his pot as farmwork became easier and easier as he grew stronger. And besides, plenty of villagers showed their prosperity around their middles.

Reese’s eating had only grown with his waistline. He was now consistently out-consuming everyone in his family. He’d even on more than one occasion dropped by neighboring households to see if they needed help finishing meals. He’d managed to conceal his hunger under the guise of neighborly friendliness, but it was a successful way to satiate his burgeoning hunger.

Lane had returned, too. She commented on the belly, calling it a sign of refinement. “Every proper man has one,” she said, before reaching beneath his slacks. “And you are certainly a proper man.”

It was easier getting inside her the second time. She didn’t even wince, and their lovemaking was thoroughly boisterous thanks to Reese’s newfound strength. However, as Reese pushed her to cum again and again, he struggled to climax even once. It wasn’t until he thought of himself being skewered by a cock as thick as his own did he finally spray her insides in seed.

Lane once again went home more than satisfied. Reese went home confused, and for the first time since visiting the crone, perhaps even a little scared.

Reese couldn’t stop eating. He’d eat a breakfast larger than any he’d ever seen, snack all day in the fields (to the point where it was routinely interrupting production), and then feast at night, first with his family, and then wherever would have him. After exhausting his neighbors, Reese would trek to the local tavern and order a second dinner no less sizeable than the first, along with a stein to wash it down.

It was becoming a point of conversation for the townsfolk. People were talking about the growing young man; a late bloomer to be sure, but one that was now ripening so quickly it seemed inevitable he’d fall off the vine.

He’d grown, but not as he’d first hoped. He was thick and broad, but soft and supple. His firm pot had become a sizeable keg that now sunk over a belt that was set to burst. His chest stretched his shirt to its very limit trying to contain breasts that were verging on womanhood. Some at the bar had commented he’d be able to satisfy a man with tits his size.

The thought might have been foreign months ago, but it now had a growing appeal.

Lane had seen him just one more time since last. She’d chided him for becoming fat but said that he had a cock so enormous it hardly mattered how big the rest of him became. Only this time when she reached beneath his slacks, she was disappointed.

“Huh. I thought you were bigger,” Lane remarked as she gripped Reese’s soft shaft. “With how big the resta ya is getting, I woulda thought you’d be hung like a mule by now.”

Reese laughed, but he’d wondered the same thing. As the rest of him grew and grew, his cock hadn’t. If anything, it seemed smaller every day. He’d put that down to his hands growing larger and his dick remaining the same size. But with how easily he slipped inside Lane’s well-stretched cooch, he began to wonder if perhaps the price of his ascension to manhood was his manhood.

The sex wasn’t satisfying for either of them. Reese had trouble staying hard, and Lane didn’t have the same sense of fullness or the multiple earth-shattering orgasms from a cock the size of a child’s arm. Neither of them came, and both departed in stunned disappointment.

That night, Reese returned to the outhouse. There, he took stock of himself. There was strength within him now, certainly, but you’d never be able to tell from looking--a thick layer of blubber made sure of that. It wasn’t the size he’d wanted from the crone, but he still considered it an improvement.

Or he would have had he not lost the one thing he took for granted. Where even a month ago his genitals couldn’t help but be fully visible regardless of his body’s orientation, now his bulk completely obscured his view. It wasn’t just his rotund statue that played a part in his dismay. Reaching beneath his gut, Reese knew his cock was a mere shadow of its former glory. Even pushing back the plush layer that covered his groin barely brought him a single handful of shaft to grasp.

At this rate, he’d barely be able to pleasure himself in a few months let alone a woman.

And yet, the thought of never fucking a woman again wasn’t the worst consequence. He wept for the loss of his virility, but not for his inability to please Lane. She’d already been forgotten. He’s only ever wanted to be a real man, and in his mind, that meant two things. He used to have the cock of one but not the body. Now he had the body of a man but was rapidly losing the cock. Soon, he feared, he’d have neither.

That night, Reese had the strangest dream. He dreamt of men. Only men. Men pleasuring him in so many ways it was impossible to count. He dreamt of towering cocks entering him, plunging inside like he’d used to dream of plunging into women. Cocks larger than even his former glory covering him in seed.

And then he woke up. Wet. And fatter than ever.