Chelsea Disaster Pt. 05

Bdsm

*Author’s note: all characters depicted in sexual situations are age 18 or older*

Finally drained properly for the first time in months, Chelsea lay twitching across the top of her thirty foot cock. Her toes clenched and unclenched in her cum-soaked sneakers as the aftershocks of incredible orgasm washed over her body. Her skin glistened with sweat. The crotch of her yoga pants had been completely shredded, split wide open so that the only things holding her pants up were the last few threads still attached to her waistband.

In the back of her pants, a dark stain spread over the swollen outline of Chelsea’s hyper pussy. Her clit was the size of a pool noodle and the slimy appendage snaked down her left pantleg, throbbing gently in time with her pulse.

Drained of its strength, Chelsea’s monster cum cannon had gone from a brutal fuck machine to just so much dead weight, immobile and soft. The once-taut skin of her scrotum sagged like warm pudding, contracting slowly into deep folds and rolls around her boulder-sized balls. A steady stream of rich, fragrant cum still poured from the gaping tip of Chelsea’s cock, pouring into a growing lake of steamy spunk that covered most of the terrace.

Looking out over the balcony of the terrace onto the mansion grounds and the valley beyond, everything in sight had been transformed. It was like a winter wonderland except with jizz instead of snow. Topiary animals had been reduced to shapeless mounds of slowly crusting baby batter, statues had been blasted from their pedestals, and the reflecting pool overflowed with yogurt-thick gunk.

Here and there, the tiny, moving shapes of gardeners and servants who’d been caught in the blast writhed as they were mobbed by swarms of giant sperm. The hyper-sized sperm creatures ranged in size from tiny tadpoles all the way up to footballs. They propelled themselves through the muck at incredible speed by thrashing their long, whip like tails. Anywhere they found a human orifice, the monster sperm attacked, forcing themselves inside without regard for whether they would fit.

An unfortunate maid caught in the deluge had already been bloated up to the size of a truck by swarms of ravenous sperm. Over a hundred of the football-sized beasts had crammed themselves up her ass and into her womb, with thousands and millions of the smaller-sized hyper-sperm pouring in behind to fill in the empty spaces. They forced their way up her fallopian tubes and ravaged her ovaries until not a single egg was left unfertilized. The poor woman would be continually popping out triplets and quadruplets for the rest of her life.

Male servants weren’t spared either; their bellies ballooned with sperm as dozens of the football-sized creatures forced themselves up their asses, pushed on by armies of smaller varieties that poured in by the gallon. More adventurous sperm swam into urethras to impregnate the men’s testicles. From then on, any child they had would technically be Chelsea’s offspring and not theirs.

Chelsea groaned. Hot jizz soaked her socks and coated her legs up to the knee. She lazily kicked her sneakers back and forth through the pudding-thick muck as egg-sized sperm nuzzled her ankles, trying to climb up. The swinging motion of her legs sent delightful, lazy tingles up the length of her girthy clit. She could feel the electric tingle of vaginal orgasm building slowly in her gut and she swung her right leg a little faster to generate friction on her hyper clit. The fabric of her yoga pants stretched audibly as her innertube-thick labia swelled larger behind her, and the dark patch of fragrant pussy juice spread faster across her backside as she built toward orgasm.

Chelsea swung her leg faster.

“This is gonna be nice,” she cooed to herself. Still coming off the cloud-like high of her explosive cockgasm, a vaginal orgasm would be the perfect follow up. If she let herself build up enough, it might even register on the Richter scale.

Then she saw Elmo coming around the corner of the house with a garden hose. The towering, hyper-muscled valet gripped the hose daintily between thumb and forefinger as if it were a drinking straw.

“Elmo… what are you doing with that?” Chelsea’s voice rose in fear.

Elmo pointed the mouth of the hose at her cock.

“Elmo… no! Nooooo—” Chelsea’s objections rose into a high squeal as icy water blasted across her shaft. The flesh of her cock contracted instantly, scrunching up like an accordion. Caked on sperm ran off in rivers as Elmo methodically hosed down every inch of Chelsea’s hyper-expanded body parts. She squealed and yelped the entire time, but the bulging, stone-faced servant ignored her cries.

Finally Chelsea stood shivering and soaked in a clean patch of tile about thirty feet across. Her cock, now a mere twelve feet long, flopped on the ground like a sleepy, wrinkled python. A further yard of foreskin trailed off the end. Her testicles had shrunk to the size of yoga balls and loose folds of wrinkled scrotum dragged on the terrace beneath them as they hugged Chelsea’s ass for warmth. Her clit and labia had shrunk completely casino siteleri back down to almost normal human proportions. Any hope for a nice clitoral orgasm was gone.

Chelsea’s teeth chattered and she rubbed her arms for warmth. Elmo reached up to his breast pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He tossed it onto Chelsea’s head and Chelsea realized that the handkerchief was actually a white beach towel. She took it with a small snort of derisive thanks and started toweling herself off.

“I don’t suppose your boss would be willing to lend me a change of clothes?” she asked, looking up at Elmo’s stony face.

Wordlessly, Elmo reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a folded stack of clothes which he dropped into the stunned Chelsea’s outstretched arms.

Chelsea held up a pair of crotchless jeans designed for hypers.

“How did Damien know my size?” she asked, glancing suspiciously up at Elmo.

Elmo just stared down at her, poker-faced.

She started to shimmy out of her soaking yoga pants but stopped halfway as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. Strangely enough, even though her entire monstrous cock and balls were on full display, she wasn’t quite comfortable enough with her big, cellulite-dimpled ass to bare it in front of strangers, especially a stranger as strange as Elmo.

“Um, could you turn around?” she asked, blushing.

Elmo complied, turning his vast back to her. It was almost like standing in the shadow of a barn.

Chelsea pulled down her pants and rolled her top up over her head. Her pert nipples stuck out like a pair of sausages, fully seven inches long each.

She hurriedly pulled on the jeans, tank top, dry socks and sneakers (Damien even knew her shoe size. Creepy!). Of course Damien hadn’t provided any underwear, so her erect nipples poked beneath her top like tentpoles, and the stiff fabric of the new jeans chafed roughly against her ass and pussy.

Chelsea picked up the piled of wet clothes and rolled it into a rough ball.

“Uh, where should I—”

Elmo was already holding out a plastic shopping bag for her. She dropped her clothes into it and took the bag from him.

“This way if you please,” Elmo grunted, gesturing with an arm as long as her entire body toward a waiting limousine that had pulled up beside the house while she’d been changing.

With a little maneuvering, Chelsea was able to stuff her cock down the center aisle of the limo, dropping her balls onto the bench seating to either side while she sat in the back.

No sooner was she situated than Elmo shut the door of the limo behind her.

“Hey!” she fumbled for the window control, clicking uselessy at several buttons until the tinted window rolled down with a smooth whir.

Elmo was still standing there, looking down at her.

“So am I getting paid by check or…”

Before Chelsea could finish her question, the towering valet tossed a bulky manila envelope through the window onto her lap where it landed in one of the folds of her scrotum. Chelsea snatched at it and flipped it open.

The envelope was stuffed with stacks of bills. She pulled one out. All hundreds!

She pulled out stack after stack; seven stacks in all and a small roll tied up with a rubber band.

Chelsea gaped up at Elmo.

“There’s got to be fourteen thousand dollars here!” she said.

“Fifteen thousand five hundred,” rumbled Elmo. “As agreed.”

“Y-yes…” Chelsea stared down at the fortune sitting in her lap. Suddenly all the weirdness and humiliation was worth it. Fifteen thousand dollars would pay her back rent, replenish her supply of size suppressors and there’d still be enough left over to eat right for at least a couple weeks.

“Mister Benedict was impressed with your performance. We will be in touch with future opportunities,” said Elmo.

“F-future—” Chelsea started to stammer, but Elmo had already signaled the driver and the limo began to move.

Chelsea twisted in her seat to look out the back window at Elmo still standing on the terrace like one of Damien’s hyper statues.

High up in one of the third-story windows of his mansion, Damien Benedict Jr. watched the limousine as it wound its way down the long driveway to the front gate.

“See you soon, Chelsea Disaster,” said Damien.

A woman crept up out of the shadows and put her hand on Damien’s shoulder.

“Did you have a good time, babe?” she asked.

Damien turned around and surveyed the silicone-stuffed bimbo standing over him. She wore a lime-green bikini that barely covered her almost spherical tits. Her bikini bottom bulged with a lengthy cock rolled up like a cinnamon roll and stuffed into the pouch. Though she was not an especially tall woman, the top of Damien’s curly hair still only came up to her ribcage.

“I had a great time,” he said.

“Seeing her cum like that, it really got me all hot,” she said, leaning in to rub her big fake tits in his face.

“Not now, Trina,” he said impatiently. He turned back to watch the limo as it left the front gate.

“I’d slot oyna like to meet her next time,” she cooed. “Maybe we can… play together?”

“We’ll see,” said Damien. “Drink your smoothie.”

Trina wrapped her collagen-puffed lips around the straw of her “smoothie.” The warm, thick liquid wriggled on her tongue and sat heavy in her stomach.

Down below, her cock swelled slightly against the fabric of her bikini bottom.

***

“Where to, miss?” asked the jaunty chauffeur.

“Oh, uh… home, I guess,” said Chelsea. Then, after a moment. “Actually, can we stop at a pharmacy first?”

“Mister Benedict said to take you wherever you wanted to go. I can drive you all the way to Disneyland if you want,” said the diver, cheerfully.

Chelsea looked down at the pile of money in her lap and briefly considered blowing it all on a trip to Disneyland. Then she remembered how strict they were about hypers there and stopped entertaining the idea even as a joke.

“Nah,” she laughed. “Just a pharmacy is fine for now.”

Finding a pharmacy turned out to be tougher than expected. Traffic was backed up for miles. Half the exits into town were closed as highway workers in reflective vests waved cars on for mile after mile. It was well after dark before they finally found an open exit.

Chelsea kept herself occupied by pressing the button that opened and closed the minibar and flipping through channels on the TV. Her cock continued to shrink during the ride, gradually contracting as her arousal died and boredom set in. Something buzzed and it took her almost a minute to realize it was her phone.

“Shit.” She’d forgotten to call Lisa. The poor girl was probably wondering if she still needed a ride home. Chelsea searched around for where she’d tossed the plastic bag with her clothes and rummaged frantically through the wet wudge until she pulled out her phone in its waterproof case. A couple of tadpole-sized sperm with their tails caught in the seam of the case wriggled helplessly on the screen and she flicked them off with a look of disgust.

She unlocked her screen just in time for her phone to tell her “one missed call.”

“Ughhh!” Chelsea rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Here we are,” said the driver. They’d pulled up in front of a CVS.

“Can you wait for me?” asked Chelsea.

“Sure thing, miss!” The driver flashed her a little salute.

Chelsea tucked her phone into her jeans pocket and began the laborious process of dragging her enormous cock out of the limo. Even though it had shrunk significantly, it was still about eight feet long. Imagine taking an army duffel bag and stuffing it with raw steaks until it was completely full, then doing that again with another duffel bag, then stitching them together end to end and you’d have a rough idea of about how cumbersome and heavy Chelsea’s schlong was at that moment. She slung the behemoth member over her shoulder with a grunt and waddled into the pharmacy, her beachball-sized nuts swaying back and forth ahead of her like a pair of wrecking balls.

Of course the pharmacy counter was all the way at the back. She could feel the eyes of the other shoppers on her and she realized that this was the first time she’d been properly out in public since her incident over six months ago. None of the other customers were hypers it looked like, unless they were really low level and on a lot of suppressors. They just stared at her, some frowning, some just too shocked to move.

Chelsea blushed. It didn’t used to be this way. Back in college, being a hyper had been a blast. Having a cock that could grow to the size of a city bus was a killer party trick, and she got invited to every mixer, kegger, frat party, sorority swing, and hoedown on campus. Freshman year she had two dates to prom; one for her and one for her cock. She and her cock even took photos as a couple with a corsage tucked in her foreskin.

But that city bus kept getting longer. The parties got wilder. Chelsea had a hyper’s ability to pound down gallons of alcohol and she took full advantage. Then one night she lost control at the Kappa Kappa Psi house and her boner took out half the roof and an entire wall before falling down across the street and crushing the porch of another house. The owners of the other house complained to the school and she got put on probation. Two weeks later she flooded the quad with cum and got expelled.

After that Chelsea’s life was a downward spiral. Her cock kept getting bigger and bigger. She kept getting drunker and drunker. Then one morning she woke up floating on an island made of her own cock in the middle of what was once a major highway and she knew she’d hit rock bottom.

The court ordered her to pay a huge fine that wiped out her entire trust fund. She had to attend Hypers Anonymous meetings every week. That’s where she’d met Lisa and the others. Her life seemed to be getting back on track.

And then she had her incident six months ago. What Lisa had called her “relapse.” She’d leveled over a dozen city blocks and flooded all of downtown Seattle.

Chelsea canlı casino siteleri snapped back to reality in the middle of the CVS and realized she’d been standing still for over a minute. Did the people recognize her from the time she’d almost destroyed the city? She blushed intensely and shuffled on, looking for an aisle without somebody already in it so she could make her way to the pharmacy counter at the back without having to look anyone in the eye.

The aisles were just an inch too narrow for her massive balls, and she winced each time she heard something get knocked off the shelf by one of her titanic testes. She left a trail of chip bags and cosmetics behind her as she walked.

Finally, she made it to the pharmacy desk.

The pharmacist was restocking the shelves and had his back to her.

“Excuse me,” she said.

The pharmacist whirled around.

“Ehyeeeeesssssssss?” he said, grinning broadly. The upturned points of his neat little moustache made his smile seem even more exaggerated. Chelsea took a step back, startled by the little man’s overly-enthusiastic greeting.

“Uhh, I was wondering if you could help me…” said Chelsea.

“Sleeping bags are in aisle four,” said the man, pointing toward the front of the store.

“Sleeping bags? Why would I want a sleeping bag?” asked Chelsea.

“Well I don’t think you’ll have much luck fitting that thing into a sock,” said the pharmacist, gesturing to the girthy cock Chelsea wore across her shoulders like a two hundred pound boa.

“Actually I’m here to pick up a prescription,” said Chelsea.

“Well you’ve certainly come to the right place for that,” said the man. “But if it’s for a little blue pill I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you wait until you’re outside to take it.”

“Do I look like I need a little blue pill?” asked Chelsea. Her patience was wearing thin. Her back hurt from holding up her gigantic schlong for so long.

“May I be Frank with you?” he asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Sure,” grumbled Chelsea.

“Good, because I’m Frank with everyone else.” He grinned and pointed at his nametag, which read “Frank” in friendly cursive letters next to the CVS logo.

“This guy’s nuts,” Chelsea grumbled to herself.

“Well you’re one to talk,” Frank looked pointedly down at Chelsea’s bulging ballsack where her beachball-sized testes hung down to her shins.

Chelsea finally lost her patience. With a roar, she slapped her cock down on the counter with a THUD that rattled all the pills in the bottles behind the counter.

“Look!” she growled. “I’m trying to fill a prescription for size suppressors, and you’re gonna want to fill it fast because I’m about to show you why I don’t need little blue pills!”

“Playing hardball, huh?” he asked.

“Grrr!” Chelsea growled.

Suddenly Frank was all business. He regarded her coldly, as if she were the bad guy for refusing to play along.

“Name?” he asked.

“Chelsea Desastre,” Chelsea answered through gritted teeth.

“‘Disaster?’ That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” asked Frank.

“My fist is about to be a little on your nose.” Chelsea brandished a scrawny arm.

“Alright alright,” Frank typed her name into the system. “Here it is. That’s quite a strong prescription. How long ago did you run out?”

“This morning,” said Chelsea, deadpan.

“Ah I see well—”

Frank’s eyes bulged and he did a double take at Chelsea’s completely flaccid eight-footer.

“Try to hang on for a few more minutes,” said Frank.

Chelsea shuffled back to the waiting area and plopped herself down in one of the seats, which promptly broke under her weight.

“Of course,” She sighed and took out her phone to listen to Lisa’s message.

“Chelsea, it’s Lisa. I’m in jail right now for flooding the town. Can you come pick me up at—”

Chelsea’s eyes went wider and wider as she listened to Lisa’s message.

Frank came back to the counter with a paper bag marked with Chelsea’s prescription.

“That’ll be nineteen hundred dollars. Will you be paying in cash or—” Frank looked up and realized Chelsea was gone.

She was barreling down the aisles toward the exit. Her heedlessly swinging nutsack bashed hard against the shelves, knocking them over like dominoes as she ran. Startled customers let out cries of surprise as she dashed out the door, knocking over a carousel of sunglasses as a final parting shot.

“Welcome back, miss—” said the chauffeur.

Chelsea, still huffing and puffing from her jog, cut him off.

“Can you take me to the police station at this address?” she handed her phone across the partition.

The driver looked at it over the tops of his spectacles.

“The police station?” she asked.

“Yeah,” panted Chelsea.

“Whatever you say.” He shrugged and put the limo in gear.

Thirty minutes later Chelsea was barging through the front doors of the Mount Vernon police department, holding the loose folds of her monster nutsack gathered up in one hand like the hem of a skirt and carrying her cock under her other arm. She collapsed across the front desk, completely out of breath. She let her cock and balls fall to the tile with a heavy PLAP like the sound of an entire drum of silly putty hitting the floor.

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