Hyper Jae: Stroke! Pt. 01

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32



Sarkopheros Says:

It’s finally here! As promised, a brand new gay Hyper Jae!

If you have read any Hyper Jae before, then you know what to expect. If you have not read a Hyper Jae story before … well. This isn’t your normal smut story. It’s composed primarily of insanity, hentai physics, and comedy.

Expect hyper cock (significantly larger than Jae himself), hyper balls, epic jizz-storms, boat racing, and of course a bunch of gayness. This chapter focuses mostly on size and sheer power of cock rather than sex and inflation. Admittedly, most of this chapter is composed of me having fun writing a funny day at the lake, but there’s some hot stuff, too. Part 2 will be the conclusion of this story, and it’s slotted to basically be one giant orgy about as big as this entire chapter.

I want to give a big shout out to THE DONGSTAR. Without his patience, knowledge, and willingness to help, this story would be completely different and probably not as good. If you like my writing, particularly the wild stuff like Hyper Jae, and you also like dickgirls, you might like THE DONGSTAR’s writing.



Jae sighed as the temperate breeze blew past him. Such a refreshing day.

He put his hands on the cutie’s bubble butt and began pulling his hips back. Schllrrrrph! Foot after jizz-frosted foot slipped from the twink’s plush ass. Hot jizz sprayed out around his cock, flowing into the deep puddle on the asphalt. Jae’s monstrous organ was so long that he had to actually step backward to pull it completely free.

All around him, people were taking pictures. The dark-haired twink’s brown bubble-butt was on full display, gushing hot jizz in a pearly arc. He laid upon a monstrously-swollen belly which sprawled across two parking spots.

Nearby, a lady was rolling a cooler by. Ice rattled inside. Jae began walking toward her. His monstrous yard-wide sack swung just above the ground, titanic balls emitting a low-pitched rumble. Her gaze snapped toward him. “Uh— Fuck!” It was nearly as big as she was. Her eyes bugged out and her jaw fell as she took in the sight. The woman’s gaze rolled up from the basketball-sized glans, along five veiny feet of barrel-thick shaft, following it to its base. It was easily as thick as her waist.

“Hey. Sup, girl? You mind if I use your cooler? I got somewhere I have to go and I’m still hard,” he explained, nodding down at his ludicrous, pulsing, pre-gushing erection.

“Oh, uh … sure, go ahead! It would be rude if I said no!” she giggled nervously before stepping back to allow him access to her box.

“Thanks.” Jae opened the cooler and shoved his head-sized cockhead deep into the frosty ice. Coldness immediately radiated up through his organ. Precum gushed into the cooler for a moment, but began to die down once the cold hit. Ice rubbed the jizz off his cock, and much of it sloughed off into the cooler.

The woman clapped. “That should add some extra zing to the pop!”

Jae waited a few minutes, half-bent over the cooler. He began to thrust his hips. The ice rattled as he pumped his fleshy monster in and out of it. It pushed deeper each time, more and more flesh being rapidly chilled. He closed his eyes and began thinking un-sexy thoughts: Boris Yeltsin in a bikini. The ugly wart on his preschool teacher’s wrinkly chin. Having to change his bastards’ diapers. Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day. IKEA.

While he was doing this, a police officer walked over to the bloated, gushing twink and slid a parking ticket into his crack. He shook his head as he walked away.

Jae’s cock began to soften quickly, and he let out a grunt of relief. As much as he wanted to fuck more of the audience, he had somewhere to be!

Once he was soft, Jae pulled his cock free of the cooler. Its heat had melted a good portion of the ice and caused the rest to stick together in cock-shaped cave. He started trying to stuff his flaccid organ into the swim briefs. It was a yard of fat, flaccid flesh as thick as his thigh, and Jae needed both hands to wrestle it in. The sculpted lines of his hard abs lead down to its base, joining beneath a well-trimmed patch of jet-black hair.

Thus contained, Jae gently pushed through the crowd, feet splatting through the pool of jizz surrounding the groaning boy. “Excuse me. Excuse me. Let me through, please?” And finally, he was clear. Walking through the parking lot, Jae passed between trailers and trucks laden with long, slender boats. Rowing teams were bustling, moving their oars and watercraft.

Most of his golden skin was exposed to the air. His usual spiked vest and boots were in the back seat of his car. Jae could see the waters of Lake Lobo glittering up through the trees. The sun was bright, and he could hear people laughing. His sandals clapped over the wooden walkway leading down to the lakeside.

Jae passed a banner hung high above the pathway. It said “LAKE LOBO REGATTA”. Jae İstanbul Escort looked toward the shimmering waves. Men and women were out rowing across the water, each team carefully coordinated by their shouting leader. The shore was crowded with spectators.

His arrival didn’t go unnoticed, of course—Jae rarely did anything unnoticed. People pointed and talked as he walked along the path. His ludicrous package was swinging and sloshing, his cock slapping against his balls. He passed a jogger. A woman on a park bench took her phone out to take his picture. Ahead was a wooden picnic table. Several people sat atop it.

When he began passing them, a guy in a hoodie called out. “Hey, how many Gothic cows died for that banana hammock?!”

His bespectacled buddy cackled and spoke up. “And how many … uh … robot cows … died for those spikes?”

The two guys shared a high five. Slap!

Jae looked down at the one of the only four things he was wearing—a black speedo custom-cut to hold a pair of yoga-ball-sized nuts and a stupendous slab of stud-sirloin. The speedo had metal studs along the length of his cock and rows of chrome spikes along his hips and balls. The other two things he wore were both sandals.

He shrugged his broad, rounded shoulders. “Well, I figured I’d wear something for swimming if I’m coming to the lake.”

“You were coming to the lake so your first thought was ‘I should wear a bondage codpiece?’ ” asked Hoodie Guy.

“Codpieces were meant specifically for covering the genitals,” said the blonde girl hanging out with them. “They were very popular in the 1500s. Men’s leggings had improper genital coverage and their jackets were too short to cover them up, so they invented the codpiece. They are a separate item that straps on. That’s not a codpiece.”

Hoodie Guy nodded. “Okay, so, I guess it’s not technically a codpiece.”

“When did you join this team, Fred? Seriously,” chided the girl. “You need to step it up if you’re going to cut it in this organization.”

Glasses spoke up again. “Did you know? Jockstraps are a modern type of codpiece.”

The blonde smiled. “See? Irving knows what a codpiece is.”

“What about those penis gourds those Africans wear?” asked Fred. “Those look pretty cool.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “That is known as a koteka or horim, and they’re worn in New Guinea, not Africa.”

“And that’s why she’s the captain,” said Glasses.

Fred looked at Jae. “I don’t even know what kind of a gourd you would need.”

Jae shrugged. “Well if you figure it out, let me know. Who are you guys, anyway?”

The blonde looked down at the table. “Oh, shit.” She reached back and picked up a sign, then placed it on the table. It said “NORTHBLADE PHALLIC CONCEALMENT SOCIETY”. There was a pink-and-green flag stuck into the ground nearby.

“Well, shit, I might need to come back to you guys for help,” said Jae.

“Any time you want, dear.” The blonde grinned. “I’m Julie. Look me up on the website any time.”

Jae grinned and continued on his way. He wondered where Vernon would be. He strolled toward Lake Lobo, balls bouncing against his legs. Birds were yelling overhead, and squirrels skittered across the path. Over near the water, he could see a bunch of long rowing boats set up on collapsible slings. Some of them were unoccupied, some had their teams still setting up rigging.

Soon, the fence ended, and the pines gave way to grass. He saw the appointed place. Several picnic tables had been overtaken by a crowd. A barrel grill was smoking and sizzling. Chatter buzzed all around.

When Jae approached, all of them stopped to stare. Potato salad fell from mouths, plastic forks hit the ground. A woman froze midway through filling her cup with soda and ended up pouring it all over her friend’s hot dog.

Jae stopped a couple paces away. What is going on here? “Uh…”

The crowd rushed him. Jae was surrounded on all sides by the strangers!

“The fuck?!” he grunted. He felt tugging and pinching. And as quickly as the crowd had engulfed him, they dispersed, going back to their seats. Shiny objects glinted in their fingers. “The fuck was that?” he grunted.

Then he realized that they were holding metallic spikes and studs. Jae looked down. All the spikes and studs were missing from his swim briefs.

“What the fuh—” Sklunch! Clearly, that was the sound of a speedo splitting apart at the seams and its component pieces falling to the ground. Jae felt the nice breeze on his heavy sack and cock. Some of the remaining jizz from the parking-lot fuck rolled down his cock. The ice had only taken off the spunk coating the forward portion of the organ. He squinted down at the pieces of his bathing suit, then looked up at the picnic-goers.

That’s when he noticed the sign on their table. “LAS TIJERAS ISLAND METALLIC SPIKE AND FASTENER COLLECTORS”.

“Wait, this is the İstanbul Escort Bayan wrong table. Where is the Southblade Pastry Club?” asked Jae.

A guy nearby turned over the metal spike he had between his fingertips and pointed without looking. “Over there, I think.”

Jae bent down to pick up the pieces of his—

Fwip! The members of the Northblade Phallic Concealment Society ran off with them. They whooped and hollered, waving the black cloth above their heads.

Jae sighed. He walked in the direction that had been indicated and found—

About a dozen men and women eating barbecue. All of them had pants or skirts, but none of them had tops of any sort. Nothing concealed their chests except the small stickers over their nipples.

“Dammit,” grunted Jae. “I was looking for the Pastry Club, not the Pasty Club.”

“That’s over there,” said the woman nearest him, pointing at a group a few tables down.

“Thanks.” Jae sighed and kept walking. His heavy cock bounced atop his balls, and his heavy balls smacked his legs with each step. A low, gurgling slosh also accompanied each footfall. Pearls of spunk dripped from his sack and balls.

He passed a couple tables on his way there. Each had flag stuck in the ground nearby which was painted with a design and colors specific to each club. Signs on the tables indicated who each group was. The next table said “KING CHARLES BAY TITANIC ENTHUSIASTS”. Several people at the table were wearing period clothing more appropriate for an early-1900s dinner party than an athletic competition. After that was the “TRAP TRAPS OF MARTIN BEACH”. Several purported girls were dancing on the tables listening to very heavy electronic music with muddled lyrics.

Walking further, Jae found the table for the “LTI COUGAR CLUB”, and immediately next to them was the “LTI COUGAR SOCIETY”. He squinted. Then there was the “LTI MILF CLUB”. Okay, I can see the distinction between MILFs and cougars, but why are there two cougar clubs? While the Cougar Society table was empty, the Cougar Club table was packed with mature women, many of whom were quite voluptuous. Sure, a couple of them had rolls, but that was natural. Jae grinned at them as their eyes rolled over his heavy cock. A couple of them coyly sipped from their wine glasses and batted their eyes. The MILF club’s table was also full of an assortment of luscious ladies who seemed quite happy to see him. A few of them exchanged harsh glances with the Cougars.

As Jae opened his mouth to introduce himself to the women, someone called out, “Jae! You made it!”

He turned around to find his friend Vernon standing there.

Jae suppressed a frustrated grunt. Motherfucker. …Wait, no I’m not. Thanks, Vernon. “Hey! Sup, dude?”

Vernon had glasses and raven-colored hair swept over one eye as well as snakebites. A toned, emo boy with inexplicably pale skin. The sign behind him did indeed say “SOUTHBLADE PASTRY CLUB”, but no one was at it that Jae could see. “The race is starting in half an hour!”

“Yeah, sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I kind of got distracted,” said Jae. “There was a twerk-off on the way here.”

Vernon’s eyes turned down toward Jae’s monstrous, swinging protein hose. “Who cares! I’m glad you could make it. I uh … so my friends are all eager to get you as their reward after the race. I … may have promised that you’d fuck them. You can handle nine cute boys, right?”

“You should be asking if they can handle me,” retorted Jae. “I know they can handle sixty feet of wood. But that’s just a warmup.”

“Actually, most shells are made out of composites of fiberglass or carbon fiber or something. But that’s true! That thing is a real monster! It should motivate them pretty well.” Then he looked behind Jae. “Wait, they put the Cougars next to Cougars and the MILFs?”

Jae turned to look over his shoulder at the disappointed MILFs. “Yeah, I was wondering about that. Why are there two cougar clubs?”

Vernon shook his head. “Well, you know how cougars can be.”

Jae blinked. “That really isn’t a helpful explanation.”

“Oh, well, the cougar clubs can get pretty catty with each other. Mm-hmm. I’m legit surprised they put them right next to each other and the MILFs! The cougars haaaate the cougars and the MILFs and they hate the cougars and I don’t know who hates each other more! We should probably go somewhere else.” He glanced around and waved Jae toward the Pastry Club’s table. As he followed him, he looked back at Jae’s heavy, swinging cock. Its head nearly swept the floor. “What happened to your pants?”

“The metal collectors and phallic concealment club took them.” Jae pointed at their tables.

“Oh, well, in that case, lucky them,” chuckled Vernon. “Anything you could wear would totes be like a … you could make a sail. Or a happy-smelling parachute. So what’s with the jizz on half your dick?” he asked, pointing at Jae’s cock. Escort İstanbul

Jae pointed to where his car was. “I fucked some guy in the parking lot on the way here.”

Vernon grinned, displaying his dimples. “Heh, ever met an ass you could say no to?”

Jae shrugged and smiled. “You know me, dude.”

“Vernon!” called a new voice. Jae looked over to see seven boys walking toward them.

Vernon bounced happily. “Hey, guys! Are we riiiigged?”

“Yeah, the shell is—holy shit!” cried the guy in the lead. He was an athletic, tan boy with neatly-combed red hair and a button nose. His eyes were locked on Jae’s pork-train. “This is a freshwater lake, dude, no whales allowed!”

Jae shrugged. “Well I guess you’re Ahab now.”

“Nah, you’re gonna be the one doing the harpooning,” chuckled the redhead.

Jae grinned and winked. “You can peek my wad.”

“Did you just wink? You realize you’re wearing sunglasses, right?” said a tan guy with a brown ponytail and soft-looking lips.

“Hey, where’s Marlon?” asked Vernon. “I thought he was with you guys.”

“I don’t know,” said a fourth guy. He had a chestnut complexion and jet-black braids tied back. “I think he said he was going to get something from his car.”

Vernon looked at Jae. “Did you see a guy in the parking lot? Looked like Martin here?” He pointed at the fourth guy. “It’s his brother.”

Jae examined Martin for a moment. Shit. “Hold up, that guy was on your team?” asked Jae. “I didn’t know that.”

Vernon nodded. “We need to get hiiim!”

“Uh … yeah.” Jae said “I have to make a confession.” I just fucked up your entire race. “Uh…”

A girl walking by piped up as she spoke to her friend. “Wow, can you believe that that Korean metalhead got out of his 1971 Ford Mustang Mach 1 and used his five-foot cock to blow a load in that dark-skinned guy in parking lot which resulted in him being inflated like a jizz-blimp?! It is likely that he was a rower, and will subsequently be unable to race!”

Her friend giggled madly. “I did indeed! What a conveniently-timed explanation!” They giggled as they passed.

“You fuuucked him?!” whined Vernon.

“…I didn’t know he was on your team,” offered Jae.

Vernon stomped his foot. “He should have known better! I told them what you could do!”

“Well, to be honest, no one believed you,” said Martin.

Vernon began stomping in circles. “It doesn’t matter! Now we have a probleeeem! We are missing a rower!”

“What about my new best friend?” cooed the ponytail guy. “Though he looks like he’d make a better coxswain than rower.”

“Will he fit in the shell?” asked the redhead.

“He’ll have to,” sighed Vernon. “Ugh! We’ll look like fools!”

“I can definitely help you all sail away,” offered Jae. “What do I have to do?”

“Listen to my commands and follow them,” explained Vernon. “You need to watch us and be really careful! Super-careful! I’m serious!”

Jae shrugged. “Okay, that sounds pretty straightforward.”

“No! It takes lots of practice!” He poked Jae’s chest. “But you got us into this mess, so you’re going to help us out of it, mm-hmm!”

Jae nodded. “Okay, listen to the yelling and do what you say, I can do that.”

Nearby, the people at the other tables were starting to get up and move toward the water.

“Watch what we do carefully! I’ll explain more when we do warm-ups,” said Vernon. He looked at his watch. “We need to get to the shell, come on! It’s time for our heat.”

Jae followed them down to the water, sandals squishing with jizz that had flooded them in the parking lot. The teams’ boats were lined up along the water. Each had an oar stuck in the ground near it with the team’s color and design. One boat had a creampuff on its oars, and on the side it said “USS TWINKIE”. Its outside was yellow, the interior white.

“That’s ours,” said Vernon. “We have to take it to the pier and wait to launch.” He pointed toward a spot where two piers jutted out into the water. “We go up when Vito calls us.”

Looking toward the piers, Jae could see a heavyset man with a red golf cap. He was also wearing a green tunic for some reason. He glanced down at a clipboard, then blew the whistle hanging from his neck. Thweeep! ” ‘Ay, you, come over ‘ere!” he yelled. “Cougar Club, you’re on pier one! Phallic Concealment Society, pier two!”

Jae looked back in the other direction. The cougars were now all in swimsuits, many of which were too small for the women wearing them. They all bolted down the last of their wine and approached their boat. One of them tripped, toppled forward, and slammed into its side. As it rocked back and forth, another tried to stabilize it, but ended up somehow shoving it, toppling the craft onto the sand.

The Concealment society was more successful … except now they were all dressed in nothing but codpieces. Including the girls. In fact, Jae was fairly sure that a couple of the girls’ codpieces were quite full. Julie was holding part of Jae’s stolen speedo and sniffing it. She promptly slung it over her shoulders like a shawl and helped her team pick up their shell. The bow of their boat was shaped like a pant-bulge.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın