Great Balls of Rubber (CBT, ball growth)

You know how some ideas suddenly pop up in your head and keep insisting on you putting them into writing until you finally get off your butt and do it? This is one of them. The character featured has been previously shown only in roleplays on the BB Fanatics Discord, but I've taken such a liking to him that I thought I'd devote a story to him. An origin story, to be specific! I've started becoming a fan of combining busting and hyper genitals and admittedly created this character solely for author appeal with respect to this combo, but never really thought about why he ended up like that until I got this horrible idea. So here it is!
 
Part of the inspiration for this story came from theradicalscrivener on Tumblr, whose hyper stories were a stating point of sorts for the genital growth bits of this story, along with several other BB-related writings I've found around the Internet such as Jonoffen's Invulneraballs. Special thanks to these sources for helping me out with this fic! Also, I'm actually quite proud of myself for managing to get almost all of this piece written in a single night (until like 2 in the morning to be specific!), which is something I can say for very few of my works in general. ...man, I really have to work on my time management skills. XD

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Great Balls of Rubber

By Skaea

Contains: */M ballbusting, violence, peril, and genital growth. 

Word Count: 3,551 

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If one were to look at all the paraphernalia related to Monumentropolis, they would be enchanted by the image of a sparkling, flawless skyline, populated by photogenic heroes and heroines from every type of story you could possibly imagine, usually under either a clear sapphire sky or a breathtaking starlit night. Postcards and novelty t-shirts, however, are not designed to provide an accurate picture of the place they come from, and in fact, many residents of the City Where Stories Begin would be surprised and somewhat annoyed that their home would be portrayed so positively.

The sad truth is that even though any and every resident has the potential to start an adventure of their own, only one citizen in ten will ever be able to achieve public recognition. This ten percent established the steel-hard monopoly on the reputation of Monumentropolis just a few years after it was first founded, and has kept everyone else from gaining ground since then. The stories of the remaining ninety percent, with rare exception, have gone unheard by popular lore… so it really is no surprise, then, that not all of them are as inspiring and charismatic as with the big league heroes and villains.

It was in the media production district of this deceptively dystopic municipality that the former A-list hero, Rex Calibur, began shaping the animation industry with his whimsical cartoons, his “creator” pioneering many techniques that are still used today. Rex was a media darling in the Roaring Twenties, the era of rubber-hose cartoons, and continued his acting career through the Great Depression and well into the Second World War. But sometime during the ‘50s, he suddenly vanished from the public eye. Perhaps it was due to his creator’s difficulties with his staff, or maybe his line of work was simply becoming obsolete. But his abrupt retirement came as a surprise to many, since his future had been looking bright indeed.

If only they knew the true nature of Monumentropolis’ rubber hose folk… Oh, if only they knew…

*****

 

 Scott Tommy-Rollocks, owner of the most unfortunate name in the long sad history of unfortunate names, as played by Shawn Mendes

Tommy-Rollocks… What an unfortunate last name, befitting an unfortunate guy. If you asked what his first name was, he’d insist on it being Scott, but everyone else who acknowledged his existence, all too often in a bitter, disgusted manner, used a different epithet entirely. Such foul luck to live up to his surname — not that a comparatively large pair of testicles and a nearly foot-long dick were exactly undesirable, but you’d need the right physique to go with them. They’d have gone perfectly with an eight-pack, hamhock-thick arms, and cheekbones that could cut glass. A body as thin as a twig with a rat’s nest of dark hair and a boyish face, though? …not so much.

This unfortunate contrast was made even more prominent by the fact that he could be aroused by anyone attractive — even looking at them made him feel quite stiff, in a sense. This meant that more often than not, he had a noticeable tent in his pants… which made almost everyone around him think that he was a massive pervert when he had been in high school. Those who didn’t beat the living shit out of him simply refused to deal with him, and he couldn’t blame them. If he looked like he lusted after them, he probably did! And so it was that throughout his youth, there was nobody whom he could call a friend, let alone a partner.

Ignored by all, wanted by none… It was no surprise that so many people began their stories without him. All the well-known roles were quickly taken not long after he dropped out of high school, unable to cope with the stress of being hated by literally everyone who looked at him and then turned their heads down. Nobody wanted to acknowledge his very existence… and the fact that he seemed to become all but invisible in his later teenage years would turn out to become as much of a boon in his eyes as it was a curse.

It had started with just a stolen pen, a few pilfered dollars from a tip jar, just small stuff. But then he just couldn’t stop… and it soon dawned upon him that this weird quirk of his, that he was universally shunned, may not have been as normal as he used to think. Could it be that his constant libido was so strong that the world had countered it by cursing him to never be even looked at? If so, no wonder he could get away with increasingly daring heists with impunity. Scott soon learned to pick locks, hack computers, break into houses without leaving a trace of his presence. He took payment from people who wanted one thing or another, artifacts and trade secrets and other juicy items, and when he wasn’t being paid to pull off his heists, he was stealing things to sell to the highest bidder. MacGuffins, in slang terms. For a while, people were scrambling about in confusion, wondering why so many priceless things were suddenly going missing, only to turn up in the black market days later.

And then he attempted to filch the valuables of one Rex Calibur… and it all came crashing down. Literally.

“This has gotta be the place,” he whispered to himself, having slipped through the dusty old window. Gloves made from black wool covered the deft yet sticky fingers, closing the window behind him before he headed into the dusty studio, at the top of a nondescript apartment building. It hadn’t seen the sun in years, decades even, but perhaps there was still something worth taking inside. Even one of Rex’s old possessions would’ve made a killing!

Peering into each of the rooms, Scott could see little in the dim light that illuminated the studio. To his disappointment, few things remained in most of these rooms and most were not worth taking: bits of old-timey clothing and pamphlets advertising the cartoons and performances of the day. But there was something else about this place that seemed just so slightly wrong. To his own detriment, he was determined to find out.

The bedroom seemed promising. Surely whoever emptied the place must’ve left Rex’s boudoir largely intact, right?

But alas, it was not to be. Only the four poster with a canopy remained, roped off with a faded sign that said, “TO TRANSPORT TO THE NATIONAL MUSEUM OF MONUMENTROPOLIS”, along with a date from at least three decades ago. The bed itself looked quite elegant and stylish, with covers and pillows of fading black with white flower embroidery. But stealing the entire bed was too tall an order, and as for the pillows… well, who would want to buy a bunch of antique pillows?

“…Goddammit. God. Dammit!” His heart sank. The place must have been cleared out years ago. Decades, even. But why was nobody using it even now?

And why had the bed been abandoned, even after everything else had been hauled off?

Sneaking over the ropes, Scott proceeded go gently check every possible hiding spot. Under the blankets, under the pillows, beneath or between the mattresses… But there was nothing there. It was just an ordinary bed after all.

But what about checking under it?

A few moments and some considerable exertion later, he'd pushed the bed aside. And there it was, a square of wood embedded into the floorboards, like a covering for something hidden. This he proceeded to lift open… to find a collection of dusty, black-colored glass bottles underneath, enough to fill a supermarket wine shelf. Every single one of them was corked, and looked like they hadn’t been opened since the 50’s.

“Jackpot.”

He picked up one of the bottles and inspected the label. It was clearly a wine bottle, alright, but he couldn’t make out the text, partly because it had faded and partly due to the black marker scribbled all over it. More intriguing still, there were crude words on one of the blank portions of the label: “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS.”

“What in the…”

What was in this bottle, anyway? Some kind of precious liquor that Rex had secretly invented? He’d heard a few rumors, but he hadn’t looked into them to see if they were true until now. Could this mean they were after all?

There was only one way to find out. He pulled out a knife he had bought with him, in case he needed to defend himself, stabbed it into the cork, and yanked the cork out.

The smell hit him like a ton of bricks. Pungent, acrid, a mix of sweet and salty. He retched slightly at the scent, immediately remembering the last time he’d smelled something like it. Actually, he’d detected the smell many times before, when he was alone in bed at night, doing the only thing he could to please himself…

His thoughts were quite rudely interrupted when something popped out from inside the bottle. Something white, slimy, and amorphous seemed to pour forth from the slender glass neck, oozing onto his glove.

“AAAAH!” Scott screamed and dropped the bottle, which predictably shattered upon hitting the floor. He’d expected a puddle of creamy white spunk. What he most certainly didn’t expect, however, was a puddle of creamy white spunk that began slithering towards him like an oversized amoeba.

Oh dear God, what on Earth had this toon been doing?

The cum thing was much more massive than he had anticipated. Spread out upon the floor, it covered almost half the area of the bed, seeming to flow like lava across the rotting wood. It advanced upon the frightened man, who instantly began backing up towards the door. Bunching together, it seemed to rear up like a snake about to strike, weaving and swaying from side to side, judging the distance it needed to lunge even though it lacked any means of sensing. Using his shirt collar to cover his nose and mouth, he turned to run for the exit.

The cum blob moved so fast that he could barely register it. The door was suddenly slammed shut by its coiling form, and within less than a second it had slammed itself into his belly, knocking him to the floor. It loomed over him, as though judging where to insert itself, which orifice… It was like something out of a horror movie, only very, very real.

And then it detected something. A scent. A quivering movement. It oozed its way backwards, and now he could see the massive bulge in his pants, and the tiny stain of precum on his crotch. To his immense horror, he’d actually become aroused by the feeling of being dominated, and now he was close to emitting something that this horrifying load of toon sperm was very familiar with.

Reaching out with its coiling form, it gently gripped the zipper in his fly, and started tugging it down…

“W-wha?” He realized then exactly what it was planning. “AAAAH NONONONOOOO! Y-YOU WOULDN’T!! NO PLEASE PLEEEEEASE!!!”

But his cries of panic fell on deaf ears. Within moments, it had pulled his fly down, opened up the front part of his briefs, and exposed his rock-hard cock and pendulous balls. And now its tip began to play with the slit of his massive member, causing it to stiffen even further.

Scott screamed in terror, but it did nothing to dissuade his assailant. He wasn’t opposed to the feeling of his urethra being filled, and in fact he used to play with sounding rods all the time. But those times, he was in full control… Now he was about to have his dick invaded by a horror man was never meant to know about, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The cum blob’s malleable form contracted with horrific ease as it started slipping into his gaping slit. It felt like so many different things, liquid magma and freezing polar ice, millions of tickly feathers and agonizing caustic acid, electrical plasma and polished steel… He suddenly snapped out of the sensory overload, realizing to his horror that Rex’s cum had poured itself halfway down his cock within just two or three seconds.

“FFFFUUUCKKKKK! NOOOOO!” He pinched his cock shut at the halfway point, attempting to block the thing’s progress. What it did upon entering its victim he didn’t know, but he was too frightened to find out. But his efforts wouldn’t be nearly enough to stop its entry.

It seemed like his cock had suddenly filled with molten lava. The burning sensation made him scream in pain, releasing his hold upon his cock for a split second. That was all the thing needed and within an instant, it was rocketing painfully through his cum tube and past his prostate, the boiling fluid leaving a strange tingling feeling in the inside of his member alongside the blistering agony. But there was worse to come.

He had thought that the slimy fiend would fill up his bladder and cause it to burst, possibly destroy his kidneys too out of pure spite. But instead, it seemed to split in two, oozing its way into two very different ducts. With mounting terror, he realized that the slime was making its way through his vas deferens… He had to get out of here and get help, and fast.

“HELP!”  he screamed, rushing through the door from the bedroom and through the hallways, trying to find his way out, trying to find someone. “HELP ME! SOMEBODY, HELLLLPPPP!!”

But then the slime finally reached his testicles… and the absolute agony stopped him dead in his tracks. He keeled over, opened his mouth, and SCREAMED.

It was like each of his testicles was being filled with hydrochloric acid, at a rate so fast that there was no way even his prodigious sperm could flush it out. The cum from the bottle seemed to be threading its way into the delicate tubules inside each of his precious organs, and at the same time flooding his balls to the point where they started to swell. He frantically tried pumping himself, attempting to get a truly awesome orgasm to send the cum flying out from whence it came, but it was no use. The very essence of its paranormal nature was now beginning to spread, not only taking a hold of his genitals but also beginning to seep across the rest of his body, starting from around his troubled loins… at the same time, his balls and also his cock, which had held the cum thing for just a little too long, began to expand and balloon to greater, more painful extremes than ever before. The skin of his scrotum seemed to stretch around his growing balls, just barely enough to keep up with their expansion, the pain of the sack being all but torn apart making him yell even louder still. He could even see blood vessels darkening and becoming increasingly visible as his scrotum continued to distend at an agonizing rate.

All the while, his pent-up orgasm was growing stronger still…

Desperate to escape, or possibly end his suffering altogether, he stumbled to his feet and made for the nearest window. His fingers trembled in wild fear as he tried to open it up. And then he noticed the movement under his skin… Some kind of horrible fluid was now filling up his blood vessels, seeping into every fiber of his being.

The cum blob had swollen his balls to the size of basketballs by now, and his cock was now twice as big as normal. But the transformation was still not complete, and now its essence was seeping into the rest of his body. He cried out in anguish then, his voice cracking, for now he could feel his bones begin to dissolve. No, to turn into rubber.

“NOOOOO! N-NNNOOOOOOOO!!!”

The nightmarish epiphany struck at the exact same moment that his orgasm did.

This was how rubber hose toons reproduced.

HE WAS NOW ONE OF THEM.

He’d turned his back to the window to examine his arms just before the orgasm ripped through him like an explosion. His white, sticky man milk erupted out of him like a geyser, the force acting not on the standard laws of physics, not anymore, but on the cartoony rules that his body would obey forevermore. The force of the blast covered the entire room with that sweet and salty fluid, at the same time sending him through the wall and causing it to fall into pieces.

“EEEEYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

He sailed through the air in a terrifying arc, screaming all the way, dozens of pieces of brick and wood and glass and drywall flying after him as though chasing him to the earth below. People looked up in shock and scattered like birds before a hunting dog, moments before he smashed into the roof of a parked car.

His body didn’t shatter so much as DISTORT, crumpling almost like an accordion while the car was reduced to scrap. Its alarm blared uselessly while at the same time, Scott’s now truly gigantic genitals were shoved into his stomach and chest by sheer inertia. His testicles were now as huge as exercise balls, his cock a mighty three and a half feet long and a whopping ten inches in diameter. But they remained as sensitive as ever, a fact that he was reminded of when the bricks and debris plowed into his newly oversized equipment at terminal velocity.

Amazingly, even the shards of broken glass didn’t break his rubbery hide, though the impacts of each and every projectile, from huge bricks to little wood splinters, caused all of them to embed itself into his goliath balls, sinking a foot deep into the flesh with the skin being pushed into the resultant depression.

There was a beat of dead silence, and then…

“EEEEEEEEEYYYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!”

His limbs seemed to spring to life of their own accord, launching himself fifty feet into the air like a living cartoon (which he now surely was), his balls expanding back to their normal shape and sending the bits of debris flying everywhere — destroying more vehicles, punching holes in the pavement, and sending bystanders diving for cover. Poor Scott, meanwhile, came back down and landed, not on his  back, but on his balls. The heavy, ginormous assets had actually affected his center of gravity, and now they were positioned so they would hit the asphalt first, with his body weight coming down on top of them.

Mercifully, he passed out after his knees sank deep into his balls, though not before unleashing a torrent of cum that spanned all the way to the other side of the street.

The next time he woke up, no doubt hours later, he found himself sitting in the backseat of a police car, the door open with his balls dangling out for all to see. Leaning upon the door to the driver seat was a brown-haired, middle-aged cop with a very displeased expression. Other officers had also arrived on the scene, no doubt called over by panicking citizens struggling to make sense of what the fuck had just transpired.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Scrote.” The officer shook his head in disgust. “You’ve just ruined not only your reputation, but that of Rex Calibur, too.”

Scott whimpered in horror, the memory of his disastrous robbery attempt still too fresh in his mind. “H-how was I to know that he was a fuckin’ body snatcher?!”

“There were many things the rubber folk didn’t want to tell us, and now I believe it was for a good reason. Regardless of the favor you’ve done us, though, we’ll have to arrest you for trespassing, attempted robbery, and multiple instances of damaging public property. Looks like your karma evasion warranty has finally expired, buster!”

Before Scott could respond, the cop had slammed the door with a gruesome CRUNCH, causing him to shriek like a schoolgirl yet again. The door was now pinching the base of his permanently overgrown ballsack, squeezing the life-giving cords of his balls into mere millimeters of space. The officer got in the driver seat without sparing a thought for the hapless thief, and sped off, heading straight for the municipal prison… driving as close as he could to the curb all the way, so that poor Scott’s enormous balls were pummeled and pulverized by every single lamppost, pillar, and hydrant they passed en route to the Big House.

“GYAAAAAH! OW OW OW OWIE OWWWWW! YAIEEEE! MERCY! UNCLE! NOOOOOO! H-HELLLP! PLEASE STOP, GET ME OUTTA HERE, PLEEEEEEEEASE…!”

Many lives and opinions were changed that night, for the revelation of how the rubber folk had really propagated during their heyday was only the start of many horrific new discoveries about their history to follow. But it was poor Scott “Scrote” Tommy-Rollocks who had experienced the worst change of all, a transformation equal parts traumatic and embarrassing that had bought his flawless track record as a heist master to an abrupt and permanent halt. It is not known anymore where the man ends and the rubber begins, nor vice versa, for to this day, they are one and the same.