Corruption - Part 2

It came for me about a week later, in the guise of a bull-headed centaur demon with twin cocks that were spraying cum like two out-of-control fire hoses. He was an escapee from the maximum security prison, and intimidating as hell. He was about the size of a rhinoceros and just as muscular, too. It was no wonder he managed to overpower security and run amok downtown. 

The demon-bull-thing charged down Main Street, where most folks manage to stay safe in their cars, but not all. The guy managed to fuck an SUV hard enough to break the windshield and fill the cabin with corrupted jizz. The poor victim inside then grew a second pair of arms that he used to tear off his clothes and start furiously jacking off, adding his own meager load to the pool of cum he was still sitting in. 

A few more cars got totaled without corrupting their occupants, although they certainly didn't escape injury. And then the corrupted broke through the security barrier just as I was heading home from work. 

I wasn't even sure I'd been hit at first. There were a few people in front of me who caught the brunt of it. The woman at the front of the line heaved as she sputtered wetly, spitting semen desperately. Then her chest erupted from her blouse, and her body grew a fur coat. The guy next to me got a dollop to the face—he just looked at me with a terrified expression before he dove onto the big-titted sasquatch, fucking her with a cock that had surely tripled in size at least. By the time the police arrived, he'd grown scales, horns, and claws like some sort of lizard man. 

The cops checked me out and said I was okay to go home, and to just keep an eye out for anything strange. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, and even though the event was traumatic, I didn't really consider how close a call I'd had. 

I went about the rest of my day, and things seemed fine until I got on camera with Theo like we usually did. For some reason, I found myself zoning out, staring at him. He really couldn't hide himself with clothes at his size, and it even seemed like he’d stopped trying. I could see tears all along the sides of his shirt where his enormous chest had ripped the seams when he sat down, the layer of blubber folding over his even larger stomach layer. There were smaller tears around his neck where it cut into his jowls, too. For the first time, I realized he was basically stuffing himself into that shirt whenever he got on camera. 

“Y’know, dude,” I began, hesitantly at first, but then ending more confidently, “you don't have to wear that thing around me. It looks like you're about to burst.”

A look of utter relief washed over Theo. “Oh, thank god,” he said, and tore the shirt from his massive body. I couldn't help but ogle as his tits flopped into view, bouncing several as they settled on his protruding gut. “You’ve no idea how tight that thing has gotten. Honestly, it was my last shirt. I dunno if they make anything bigger. Is it cool if we talk like this?”

“Yeah man, it's fine,” I replied, surprising myself with just how fine it was. I never thought of Theo as repulsive—we were too familiar for that--but neither did I want to see what he’d become. But now? I was… curious? Maybe even intrigued. I hadn't seen him in his entirety in quite a while. Just how big was he now? And how big was his--

“Hey man, watch out! You're losing aggro, and I need a heal!” 

I blinked, realizing I'd totally forgotten about the game we’d been playing. “Right, sorry,” I muttered, but I had trouble focusing on the game the rest of the night. I don't know why, but I just couldn't keep my eyes from wandering to my secondary monitor, where Theo was, naked from the waist up, his body jostling wildly as he tried to carry the raid all by himself. It was incredibly alluring. 

When I wished him good night, I didn't go to bed right away. Instead, I got in the shower, staring at the erection I'd had for the past hour. It looked… bigger. Wider. Longer. And all because I couldn't get the image of Theo’s tits out of my mind. 

I knew then that this was it: I'd been corrupted. The realization should have been terrifying, but it wasn't really. It was almost a relief to know it wasn't me thinking my fat friend was hot—it was just the disease taking hold in me. 

And with that, I furiously jacked my slowly enlarging cock, thinking about what increasingly lewd acts I could perform with Theo’s huge tits. 

---

I wish I could say I did the noble thing of calling up the local health unit to report becoming infected, but I didn’t. It was selfish—I could have turned into some sex-crazed monster at any moment, bursting from my apartment and getting people hurt. Luckily, I just called in sick, sat around the house, and jerked off over and over and over again.

I might have been surprisingly comfortable with the idea of becoming corrupted, but I still didn’t want to leave my home, all my stuff, and my old life behind. But as the day wore on, it became increasingly clear that my old life was over. I’d belt out a load in the morning, thinking that would get me under control long enough to watch a movie or play some video games, and then I’d be hard again 20 minutes later. And each time, my cock would be even bigger and more insistent. 

By mid-afternoon, my dick had grown large enough that when I became erect, it simply burst through my boxers like some horny Kool-Aid Man. And despite cumming more in a few hours than I’d ever managed in a full day, my loads just kept getting bigger and bigger. By the evening, there were dried cum stains all over the couch and a few puddles in the kitchen. I was long enough that I tried sticking the head in my mouth, but I was just cumming so much I couldn’t swallow it all, and I just wound up making an even bigger mess.

By the morning, my apartment was even worse than the time I’d visited Theo after he’d just been infected. Eventually, the neighbours would start complaining about the smell, or someone would notice fluid seeping out from underneath my front door. Maybe I could have stretched it out for a few days, but having experienced first-hand how much better your treatment can be if you give yourself up voluntarily, I decided to make the call.

Around noon on the second day, a group of medical workers in hazmat suits knocked on my door. I tried to clothe myself, to retain some degree of modesty, but I was basically always hard by then, and it was basically the size of my forearm. There was no hiding it. I answered the door sheepishly, and they were all very kind. Nobody mentioned the sordid state of my apartment, or the way my cock was clearly visible against my jizz-stained t-shirt, growing even wetter by the minute as my dick constantly leaked fluid. 

They guided me to a special ambulance where the driver’s compartment was entirely separate from the patient compartment, then drove me to a quarantine unit at the hospital. Even though it was obvious, they still needed to confirm my corruption and fill out their paperwork. It was pretty boring. There was a TV in the corner playing some news broadcast, but otherwise, it was just a few benches. I was the only person there—a slow day, thankfully.

A few hours later, they put me back in the ambulance and carted me off to the Elmsmire Preventorium to undergo my intake. I sighed in relief upon hearing the name—this was the minimum-security facility that didn’t lock people away. It was also the same place where Theo lived. The thought of seeing him again in the flesh struck me with a ray of hope, and maybe a tiny bit of arousal, as I pumped out another glob of pre-cum from my constant erection.