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Author's note: all characters depicted in sexual situations are age 18 or older
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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 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.
