The Tattoo Shop - Part 3

After the tramp stamp came a larger tattoo on each of Mason’s ass cheeks, causing both to balloon to the size of furry basketballs. Then more tattoos down each leg, turning each into wide and jiggly hams. Then his calves, each now as large as most men’s thighs, were given the same treatment--alternating bear paws, hognoses, and various food items being messily scarfed by either animal.

Eventually Mason was entirely covered in colorful tattoos--a job that would normally take weeks, even months, being miraculously performed in hours. Mason was now a much larger man, each bulging lovehandle overflowing the tattooist’s chair and then some. Every expansive inch was covered in ink--all except for one.

“Hey man, we’re almost done here. You wanna go all the way?”

Mason was staring at his corpulent, colorful, and furry form in the mirror, but the tattoo guy’s words caught his attention. “All the way?”

“Yeah,” he said, pointing at Mason’s naked and hairy groin. “You still got some bare parts left.”

This shocked Mason for a moment. “I dunno… how would you even do it?”

“It’s easy,” the tattooist said. “I give you one of these,” holding up a small blue pill with the word Viagra written on it, “and then I shave your bits. By the time I’m done, you’re all hard and ready to go.”

“Won’t it hurt?”

The tattooist shrugged unhelpfully. “It’s up to you.”

The initial shock having worn off, Mason stood there and stared at his crotch, the nub of his dick barely showing from beneath the overhang of his belly and the fat surrounding it. Then he declared, “Ah hell, why not?”

“Attaboy! So, whatcha want there?”

Mason didn’t hesitate: “How about an elephant, with you know what as the trunk?”

The tattooist chuckled and handed Mason the pill, which he downed in a single gulp. As the ink-man had described, Mason slowly got harder and harder as more of his dense pubic bush was removed, until by the end of it several inches of cock stood out from the pale and naked flab surrounding it. His balls were given the same treatment, the cool air striking each dangling orb for the first time in many minutes.

“You ready?” Mason nodded.

Mason had expected the most sensitive parts of him to endure the tattooists’ needle the least comfortably, but there was strangely little pain. In fact, he felt an odd sort of pleasure welling up from deep within him, until moments later Mason reached across his broad chest to pinch a nipple that had long since hardened with his dick and grown just as large as the rest of him.

Just as Mason let out a low moan the tattooist stopped and wiped down Mason’s dick with an ink-covered rag. “You sure pre a lot,” he commented. “You better not blow until I’m finished or you could fuck it up.”

Mason grunted his understanding, then went back to pinching his nipples while the tattooist went back to inking his prick. After a few buzzes he’d have to wipe down Mason’s cock before he could continue, causing it to jump in appreciation of the soft cotton rubbing its length.

Wait, length? Mason was confused. At his size, even an average-sized dick would be barely a nub sticking out from a soft thatch of flab and pubic hair, and Mason was decidedly average in that department. Or at least, he thought he was, but as the buzzing sensation of the tattoo gun crept further up his schlong Mason noted that it was taking longer and longer to get done what should have been a short job, even at full mast. On top of that, it felt like more of the rag was resting on his dick and less on the rest of his groin, like it was being kept further away from him.

Another buzz, another wipe, and Mason couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. He peered over his belly and was once again confused by the enormous one-eyed monster staring back at him, resting lazily on his soft underbelly. Had he always been this hung? Had he always had such a huge dick and thick, wrinkly foreskin?

The tattooist now used one hand to lift his kielbasa so he could tattoo the other side, and as the buzz once again struck his dick he could see it lengthen slowly as the ink sunk into his thick, fleshy, and oh so sensitive skin. Another gush of pre came out, almost like a spurt, and slid down the length of his shaft to smear in his pubes. Mason’s cock had almost reached as far as his belly button now, and he wanted nothing more than the tattooist’s delicious torture to never end.

Mason wondered how this was all happening, and then wondered where the thought came from. He’d always been huge--that’d been what had attracted James to him in the first place. The dude was a raging power bottom, and sometimes nothing short of a fist could get him off. Mason came close, and while the full-body tattoo thing had put him off a little at first James quickly overlooked it after the first night when Mason used his bulk and enormous endowment to give him several hands-free orgasms.

For Mason it’d been the first time he’d truly been able to let loose and fuck someone without fear of hurting them. Remembering that first night with his eventual husbear-to-be, how he’d finally felt his pelvis contact another man after ramming his full length inside them, it was enough to get Mason over that edge.

Luckily the tattooist was just finishing the last grey wrinkle of the elephant’s trunk when Mason went off like a cannon, spraying cum all over the chair, himself, and the tattoo guy. Mason could really cum after a good long session, and this last tattoo certainly counted for him.

After over a dozen shots had splattered all over the room, Mason finally started to come down from his orgasmic high and take a few deep, calming breaths. He opened his eyes to see the tattooist covered in his spunk, and sheepishly smiled down at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The tattooist wiped his face with the rag and grinned back. “Guess the elephant was a good choice for you, eh?” Mason chuckled as the guy grabbed his still dripping dick with both hands and slapped it on Mason’s expansive gut. The meaty thwack caused ripples to flow outward, making his entire body look like ripples in a pond.

Mason paid the man and called James to come pick him up from the tattoo shop. Maybe he could convince him to get a tattoo here while Mason fucked him. His titanic dick was already leaking at the thought.