Man With Bulge Novels & Stories

something large and rigid that definitely wasn't there when I saw him on campus last week. I blink, my mind racing with a profound, clinical confusion. My brain, so used to analyzing symptoms and side effects, immediately goes to the most logical conclusion. Is he injured? Did he hit himself during that intense workout? The bulge looks incredibly uncomfortable, almost painful, and the way the fabric strains against him makes my own face go scarlet. My mind is so naive to the biological reality of the man standing in front of me that I genuinely wonder if he’s about to burst out of his clothes just like I did mine. Is his body density-shifting too? Is he having a "reaction"?

The buttons of the shirt were crying for mercy, caught in a struggle of their own as they tried to house the packages this hunk of a man owned—broad shoulders that stretched a long mile, full and sumptuous pectorals. As he sipped from his cup, his biceps doubled in size, pushing against where the material had bunched up at his elbow—he must be a fan of rolled sleeves, blessing me with the sight of pale skin and veined forearms. My, my, my! I didn't expect businessmen to be so fit. Most of the ones I had come across during my missions were the usual—receding hairline, drunkard belly, and yellowing skin. The ape behind me, whose presence I had long forgotten, was the size of almost two muscula

I​ cut the ex‌pensiv​e fabric away, revealing the dama​g‌e. Th‌e bulle⁠t had passed through th⁠e⁠ mea‍t of his shoulder. It was​ ugly, swollen, and oozing,‌ but it had missed the bon‍e and the art‍ery. His ch⁠est was a ma‌p of‍ purple b⁠ru‍ising fr⁠om‍ the fight. D‍r. Gallo arrive⁠d te‌n minu‍tes la‍ter, l​ooking like he had s​le‌pt i​n his clothe​s.

I hate to admit it, but the beast suited the old wolf right down to the ground. “What are we doing here again?” he inquires, climbing out of the car. “The guy we’re looking for isn’t here, but someone who’ll point us in his direction is.” I head to the building, and as we enter, the largest man I have ever seen shouldered out Vulk while exiting the door. What made this man even more striking were the thick coke-bottle glasses he wore on his melon-sized head. “Hey,” Vulk protests. “Forget it,” I remark, placing one hand guardedly on the shoulder of my friend and directing him inside. I could sense that man was all sorts of trouble.

Walking, but fast, like they didn’t want to draw attention. “Mr. Mario, you can’t leave with...” the man started. That’s when I saw it. He wasn’t a doctor. The white coat looked real enough, but there were tattoos crawling up his wrists, and the way he spoke—it wasn’t right. There was something shoved awkwardly in his pocket. A bulge. A shape I didn’t want to name. Mario saw it too. He didn’t wait. He ducked behind the huge plant just as... CRACK!

Despite the teasing and light-hearted banter, there was an underlying camaraderie and affection that bound them together as a team, a bond that grew stronger with each shared experience, whether serious or lighthearted. As Vipula and her colleagues engaged in playful banter and teasing, a sudden interruption broke the jovial atmosphere of the room. The door swung open, revealing a man whose presence commanded attention. He stood tall and confident, his physique a testament to his dedication to fitness. His broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and well-defined muscles hinted at a disciplined workout regimen, while his expressive eyes and charming smile added an undeniable allure to his appearance.

That was when I noticed the large bulge threatening to burst from his shorts. I sat up, reaching for his hands and pulling him close, as I started to unbutton his shorts. He reached around my hands and started to unbutton mine at the same time. I unzipped his shorts and the bulge seemed to squeeze outward, now only held in by the thin fabric of his boxers.

Just enough. The first one was fine. The second one we scrolled past without discussion. The third one made us both go still. Red background. A man from the shoulders down — no face, no name, just structure. Wide shoulders, a chest that looked carved, abs that led down to a V line so sharp it disappeared into dark trousers like a map to somewhere dangerous. One hand held a black belt loosely at his side. At the bottom of the frame a woman's hand rested on the waistband of his trousers, her position making it clear she was on her knees.

The man said and motion for me to come closer to him. "Just suck?" I asked while looking at his hand caressing the large bulge inside his boxer brief. "Yes! You just have to suck my díck and nothing more. I don't shag men, sorry." The man responded and took off his pants. I swallowed my saliva when I got better access to the bulge inside his boxer brief. Fuck! This man's penis seems huge and hard. "Okay." I agreed to the man's wishes and immediately knelt in front of him. I wasted no more time and immediately touched his bulge.

Wilson arrived at the other end of a portal. He was shocked by what he saw. Before he could soak it in, “Hey, get off the portal!” A man shouted at Wilson. Wilson scanned his physique and was disappointed. This dude was like a bad balloon product that was inflated by an idiot. Fat in the middle with a small head, thin arms and fat legs. Who the hell gave birth to this person? “What?” Wilson asked him. “He said buzz off!” His partner said. Wilson looked at this partner. He had man boobs, a huge potbelly, bald head and scraggy beard. This must be the idiot that did the inflating.