14 Inches: Jillian's Story - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Life definitely changed overnight when my father was killed. They called it a suicide, but they also said he was shot four times in the head. “It’s possible,” the coroner said. “It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s possible.” In other words, they just didn’t want to bother with an investigation. 

That was when I more-or-less stopped talking. Life suddenly seemed so bleak. Before, I just wanted to spend all of my time with my friends—but after my dad died, my friends all seemed so… fake… and annoying. It was probably a dick move, but I decided to tell them one day, “Your lives are so pointless.”

Okay, I guess you could say that I was going through a lot. I wouldn’t say that I was exactly pleasant to be around during that faze of my life, so I don’t really blame everyone for ditching me. I went from being fairly popular to a loner almost overnight.

And I got into the usual hobbies of depressed teens: self harm, annoyingly heavy music, drugs, and so on. My mom quickly got into another relationship, with a super conservative dude—and I hated him so much that I decided to torture him the best way that I could think to torture him: by dressing like a girl.

At the time, it wasn’t something I was into. I just didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of me, and I wanted to embarrass him as much as possible, especially when we all went out for dinners or on trips. I would go to Value Village in the city and buy myself the sluttiest black dress, with some fishnet stockings, maybe a choker… I had a black wig that I wore until my hair was past my ears, and then I ditched it. I put on dark eye-makeup. My mom didn’t care—or maybe she didn’t even notice. But her boyfriend definitely noticed; he would make comments. He would call me a ‘fag’. He would tell me, “You will never be a real woman.” And at the time, I really didn’t want to be a woman—I just wanted to piss him off.

But after a few months, I started to kind of like putting on makeup in the morning. I kind of liked coming up with cool outfits. I liked the way guys would check me out when I walked by them. I got a kick out of all the guys from school who would privately DM me after bullying me all day: “Hey, I’m actually really into you and want to suck your cock.” There was just something so… entertaining about it all. 

I got through the worst of it after about a year, but I really didn’t come out the other end quite the same. I still couldn’t stand the thought of wearing colourful clothing. I still couldn’t stand the sound of upbeat pop music. I just felt… better when I was wearing black. And I liked dressing like a girl.

Plus… skirts were really the only type of clothing that could hide my bulge.

I was a late-bloomer. Puberty really didn’t hit me until my senior year of school. And it hit one spot in particular. 

I don’t want to get too graphic, but things started to change… between my legs. It just kept… growing. Each month, it was bigger. And I would always think that it was the end of the growth spurt, but it just kept growing. And it was annoying, because I’d just started dressing like a girl, and having a big bulge made wearing certain outfits impossible. I had a pair of black leggings that I was really into, but there was no pair of panties that could keep my shaft concealed. So I started wearing almost exclusively black skirts.

The fucking thing kept growing. I measured it when I was hard: ten inches. “What the fuck?” I whispered. And it didn’t stop there. A month later, it was a whole inch bigger. 

It was heavy. Whenever I was a little bit aroused, I could feel it getting heavier between my legs, as if someone was sneaking lead weights into my panties. I was buying new panties each month—because the weight of my cock kept stretching the panties out. Eventually, I invested in a black leather strap that held it in place like a bra. That broke during class one day while I was daydreaming about the new blonde girl, who was sitting up front (Yeah, I still liked girls… but I was starting to like guys too.). The strap literally snapped, making me gasp, and I had to sit at my desk for fifteen minutes until it went down, before I could slide out. 

And it kept growing. 

I hated it… at first. 

I would look in the bathroom mirror, naked, and the sight of the long appendage made me feel like a freak. There was definitely something wrong. Some biological governor didn’t work. I was scared it would keep growing until I needed a wheelbarrow to cart it around—or maybe it would just eventually be so big that I would drop dead the moment I got an erection. 

But something happened one night that changed how I felt about it. 

There was a guy in my class who constantly called me names like ‘faggot’ and ‘tranny’. I usually ignored him, but he was popular, so his friends would parrot him like a bunch of idiot sheep. They would chant ‘tranny boy!’ at me in the halls, and they would point and laugh, and the other students in the school would all snicker. 

But at a party one evening, the bully found me when I was upstairs, coming out of the bathroom. He put his hand against the wall and grinned, staring into my eyes. I thought he was going to say some annoying insult, but instead, he said, “You know, for a tranny, you’re kind of cute.” 

“Fuck off, Ben,” I said, trying to sneak by him. But he extended his arm to block me. 

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re actually kind of hot.” 

“What do you want?” 

“How good are you at keeping secrets?”

“Why?” 

“I want to fuck you. And look—I’m probably the best you’ll ever get. I’ve fucked half the cheer squad. Half of the girls in the school wish I would fuck them—maybe more.” 

“I doubt it,” I said, shaking my head. I assumed he was just fucking with me: some setup for an insult.

Then, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into an empty room. He closed the door and released me. “What the hell, Ben?” I said, shaking my hand because he damn-near broke my wrist.

In a moment, he dropped his pants, showing me his cock. It was hard—and big… at least compared to average. I could see where he got his annoying confidence from. “Suck it,” he said. “Girls dream of sucking it—and now I’m giving you the chance.” 

I hate to admit it to you… but I did it. I guess there was a small part of me at the time that wanted to feel some validation, to think that one of the more popular guys in the school actually wanted to be sexual with me. It was a moment of weakness, letting my low-self-esteem get the better of me. I sucked his cock—which turned into him face-fucking me like I was a glorified sex doll. He even made me throw up a little bit—just bile, but still disgusting.

He grinned. 

He bent me over the bed. I kept my shaft and balls covered with the palm of my hand—he hadn’t seen it yet, and he kept saying, “Keep it covered.” He knew it was there—he just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing it. 

“I bet you’ve never been with a guy this big,” he scoffed. “I’ve bet you never even seen anyone this big.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

He fucked me hard. It hurt. Hardly any lubricant (just a bit of spit) and he went from zero to one-hundred in seconds, like he was the star of some degenerate porno. 

I took it… but it didn’t make me feel validated. I just felt… annoyed. I just felt like I was letting some prick feel validated.

Then an idea came to me, right when he said, “I’m about to cum.” 

I reached down and pushed my cock down, between my legs, sprawled long where he could see it. I heard him gasp. “What the fuck is that!?” 

But it was too late—he was cumming. He made sounds of disgust, and I let out a little giggle. 

He pulled out. His cum spilled out of me as I rolled over. I grabbed my cock and began to stroke it. “I think mine is bigger,” I said. 

He just stared, pale faced.

“Want to ride it?”

“I—You… Why is it so… big?” 

I giggled again. Then I stood up, ass sore. I put my hands on his shoulders. He was frozen. I spun him around and bent him over a small desk. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Taking my turn. You had yours,” I said. I spat. The spit landed perfectly on my cock. I used my hand to spread it up and down the whole thing—all twelve inches. Then, I pressed my tip to his asshole.

“There’s no way it will go in. This is stupid,” he said.

But it went in. He shrieked. I’m sure it hurt. I mean—his asshole was bright red a moment later. He was straining and groaning. I didn’t go quite as hard as he went on me; I would have killed him if I did. 

I fucked him and I came inside of him, and he collapsed to the floor when I was finished. 

“I didn’t even use the whole thing,” I giggled. 

His asshole was gaping. He put his hand over it, as if to stop the air from stinging it. I swear I could see it throbbing. I felt a bit bad. Maybe it was a bit mean. But while I was fucking him, he was moaning like crazy. He liked it. In fact—he liked it so much that he came on the desk. I could see his spewed cumshot dripping down the edge of the wood. 

He didn’t talk shit at school after that…

And as for my cock… it had another growth spurt… and then another. It finally plateaued around fourteen inches. It was huge… If I didn’t keep it in a pair of firm panties, it would hang down nearly to my knees. I’m sure that you can imagine it was uncomfortable at times, like whenever I tried to go for a long walk or, God forbid, a jog. Sometimes it was tedious finding a comfortable sleeping position where I wasn’t squishing it. 

But I no longer looked at it with disgust when I looked in the mirror. After that night with Ben, I kind of learned to like it. I mean—Ben completely stopped mocking me at school. When his friends tried to mock me, Ben shut them down, turning red all over. “Don’t be an ass,” he would say to them. 

And then word got around that I was hung after a wardrobe malfunction in the changing room. A couple of the cheerleaders found out about how big I was, and they found me at a party one night. They took me up stairs because they wanted to have a threesome. I blushed when I saw their eyes glittering at the sight of my shaft. They took turns sucking me and bouncing on me. Only one of them could fit it inside of her; it was too big for the other girl. The next weekend, another pair of giggling girls found me, and they wanted a turn too. 

Soon, guys found out that girls were taking turns letting me fuck them, and their jealousy became obvious. It felt good, seeing so many jealous faces. 

But, of course, the bullying was still there. There were some that were just determined to mock me, call me a freak, laugh at me… The worst of it came from my mom’s boyfriend… who was about to become her husband.