The Sorcerer’s Shaft
Tommy was a 29-year-old nobody, a lanky gas station clerk with a patchy beard and a life as exciting as day-old coffee. He lived in a shitty apartment in a nowhere town, jerking off to X porn and dreaming of pussy he’d never touch. But one night, after a double shift smelling like diesel and regret, everything changed. Stumbling home through an alley, he tripped over a gnarled wooden box half-buried in the dirt. It pulsed with a faint, violet glow, and when he pried it open, a voice like molten sin whispered in his head:“Take the gift, mortal. Your cock is now the sceptre of desire.”
Tommy laughed it off—probably just high on energy drinks—but when he got home and unzipped to piss, his dick was... different. Once a modest five-inches, it was now a thick, veiny beast, nine inches of glistening perfection, pulsing with that same violet glow. His balls hung heavy, tingling like they were charged with electricity. “What the fuck?” he muttered, gripping it. The second he touched it, a jolt of raw, slutty power shot through him, making his knees buckle and his cock throb like it had a heartbeat.
Curious and horny as fuck, Tommy jerked off, his hand barely able to wrap around his new monster. As he stroked, the room filled with a musky, primal scent, and his cum shot out in ropes so thick they splattered the ceiling. But that wasn’t the wild part—his jizz shimmered, violet sparks dancing in it, and when it hit the floor, the cheap linoleum turned to polished marble. “Holy shit,” Tommy gasped, his cock still hard, leaking precum like a broken faucet. His dick wasn’t just magic—it was a fuckin’ reality-bending wand.
The next day, Tommy tested his new toy. At the gas station, he locked eyes with Jenna, the bitchy barista from the coffee shop next door who always ignored him. She was a curvy 25-year-old with pouty lips and tits that strained her apron. “Hey, Jenna, c’mere,” he said, voice low, his cock twitching in his jeans. She rolled her eyes but sauntered over, probably to mock him. Tommy leaned close, letting her catch a whiff of his new musk—a mix of leather, sweat, and raw fuck-energy. Her pupils dilated, her cheeks flushed, and she licked her lips like a slut in heat.
“Wanna see something cool?” Tommy grinned, unzipping just enough to flash his glowing cock. Jenna gasped, her thighs clenching as a wave of lust hit her like a truck. “Fuck, Tommy, what is that?” she whimpered, dropping to her knees right behind the counter. She didn’t care that customers were outside—she needed that dick. Tommy smirked, grabbing her hair, and fed her his shaft, the violet glow pulsing brighter as her lips stretched around it. Her tongue swirled, sloppy and desperate, her moans muffled as she gagged on his thickness. The magic hit hard: with every suck, Jenna’s body shifted. Her tits swelled, ripping her apron, her ass rounded into a perfect peach, and her skin glowed like she’d been airbrushed for a porn shoot.
Tommy fucked her mouth, his balls slapping her chin, and when he came, it was a flood—hot, glowing cum spilling down her throat. Jenna swallowed every drop, her eyes rolling back as her body quaked. When she stood, she was a goddess, her curves obscene, her pussy so wet it soaked through her jeans. But the magic wasn’t done: the gas station transformed around them, the grimy shelves now gleaming, stocked with bottles of lube and sex toys instead of chips and soda. “Fuck me, Tommy,” Jenna begged, bending over the counter, her cunt dripping. He obliged, slamming his cock into her tight, slick hole, each thrust making the building shake, windows turning to stained glass depicting orgies in vivid detail.
Word of Tommy’s magic cock spread like cum on a porn set. By week’s end, the town was a den of depravity, every chick (and some dudes) begging for a taste of his glowing dick. His apartment became a palace of velvet and silk, every surface fuckable, the air thick with the stench of sex—sweat, pussy juice, and his musky cum. Tommy’s power grew with every blowjob, every pussy he pounded. He’d point his cock at a wall, shoot a load, and it’d turn into a mirror reflecting endless scenes of him railing desperate sluts. He’d cum on a rusted car, and it’d morph into a sleek sex dungeon on wheels, complete with chains and dildos.
But Tommy got greedy, and his cock had a dark side. One night, he lured his bitchy landlord, Mrs. Carver, a 50-year-old hag with a perm and a permanent scowl. “Pay your rent, loser,” she snapped, banging on his door. Tommy grinned, stroking his cock through his robe, the violet glow leaking out. “C’mere, I got your payment.” She stormed in, ready to evict him, but one whiff of his musk and she was done. Her saggy tits perked up, her wrinkles smoothed, and she tore off her granny dress, revealing a body that screamed MILF. “Fuck me, you little shit,” she growled, shoving him onto the couch.
Tommy tied her wrists with silk ropes, his BDSM streak kicking in. He teased her clit with the tip of his glowing cock, her screams echoing as her pussy clenched, begging for it. When he finally plunged in, her cunt was so tight it milked him dry in minutes. But as he came, the magic twisted—Mrs. Carver’s eyes glowed violet, and she laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “You thought you controlled this?” she hissed, her body shifting into a demonic succubus, horns curling, tail whipping. His cock’s magic had a mind of its own, and it loved chaos.
Now Tommy’s on the run, his cock a blessing and a curse. Every load he shoots bends reality—pussy turns women into nymphos, cum reshapes the world, but each use risks summoning something darker, hungrier. Last night, he fucked a bartender in a dive bar, her screams shaking the walls as his cock made her pussy sing. The bar’s now a cathedral of kink, but something’s stalking him, drawn to his glowing shaft. Tommy’s got a choice: keep fucking, keep bending the world, or try to tame the beast in his pants before it eats him alive.
