The Visor

Hi all, sorry for the long absence, but I hope this sort of makes up for it. It's a commissioned piece that I've been working on and finally can share :) Hope you like!

“Look, I know I haven't been the best student in your class,” the cute young cub began, “but I really need to pass to stay on the hockey team. Is there anything I can do for extra credit?”

Professor Henry McCaid regarded his student for a moment. His boyish face, marked only by the beginnings of a blonde goatee, seemed genuinely earnest. Why the cub seemed so desperate to remain on any sports team was a mystery to the lifelong academic—perhaps a scholarship was involved. 

No matter, the professor decided. He’ll do just fine. 

“As a matter of fact, there is something,” McCaid replied and was delighted to see the boy’s face light up with excitement. “I'm sorry, I have a class of almost a hundred; what’s your name, son?”

“Cyrus,” the student replied. 

“Yes, Cyrus,” the professor fixed the position of his glasses as he peered down his nose at the boy. “I can offer a small boost to your grade if you take part in a technical trial for a new invention I hope to present at my next conference. You'd be required to use the device for a period of several weeks. Does this sound like something you’d be willing to take on?”

“Sure,” Cyrus said, but his earlier enthusiasm had become tempered with a note of trepidation. “Just what sort of device are we talking about?”

Professor McCaid held up a finger and reached into a drawer in his mahogany desk to pull out what seemed like a gleaming metal circlet. 

“It's a visor, you see. I haven't quite gotten around to naming it—that’ll likely come closer to an actual product launch,” the professor explained. “But this device is designed to unlock the potential of the human mind.”

Cyrus eyed the visor nervously. “Okay…” 

“I can see you're a bit skeptical, which I can appreciate.” Henry plucked the visor from his desk and maneuvered his bulk to stand before his student, the visor held out in two bearish hands. “If you’d like, I can provide you with a small demonstration.”

“But how does it work?”

“For that, you'd have to be paying more attention to the assigned course material,” the professor chuckled. “Really, it’d be much easier to simply show you.”

Cyrus stared at the visor pensively for a few moments but then nodded. Beaming, professor McCaid held up the visor and gingerly placed it so the student’s ears held the band just over his eyes. 

“Now hold still. You should hear a beep, and then see a bright light,” the professor instructed. “That's all perfectly normal.”

Cyrus couldn't see what the professor was doing, but he heard the beep and then saw a bright flashing light. The light continued to flash for several moments, not quite blinding in its brightness, but fast enough to be disorienting. The light seemed almost… playful. Like it was about to share a raunchy secret and it wanted Cyrus to take part in this mischief. 

“What… is…” the boy mumbled before going completely slackjawed. Step one of the process was a success, the professor thought. Now to determine the visor’s efficacy and the subject's susceptibility. 

“Cyrus, can you hear me?” The student provided a mute nod. “Good. I’d like you to remove your clothes. Everything except for the visor.” 

Cyrus complied robotically, unbuckling his belt and dropping his jeans in quick, efficient movements. Removing his t-shirt took a few moments longer as he carefully avoided dislodging the visor, but soon he was standing naked in the professor’s office. 

He was a fine specimen, the professor decided after a brief examination. Broad shoulders, impressively developed quads, and a delicious backside; it was clear to McCaid that the cub did indeed work hard at developing his body, if not his mind. Perhaps that was something he could leverage. 

Not that it seemed like he needed much of that. Unlike some previous test subjects, Cyrus had immediately fallen under the hypnotic suggestion hidden within the visor’s light pattern. It was almost as if he'd been willing to strip down the moment he'd stepped into McCaid’s office. All he needed was a little nudge. 

But that most likely meant… “Cyrus, do you find me attractive?” 

“Yes sir,” the boy said immediately, a hint of enthusiasm managing to slip past the visor’s enforced monotone. 

The professor chuckled. “Really? And what about this overweight, middle-aged academic you find so attractive?”

“Just that,” Cyrus replied. “Maturity and authority are hot.”

This got McCaid to raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well then, I suppose I could provide you with a mature authority figure. Would you like that?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Very good,” the professor said, reaching beneath his belly to unbuckle his own belt. “Place your hands on my desk and bend over.”

Cyrus complied wordlessly, presenting a truly breathtaking ass. Large, yet firm, it was obvious the boy did more than merely skate to achieve such exceptional glutes. Squats, most likely. It was enough to get McCaid firm even before he'd managed to drop his slacks. 

But no, the professor decided this dish had best be savored before dropping to his knees in front of the enticing rear. McCaid’s strong hands parted an even stronger ass to reveal a rosebud ripe for the taking, and he wasted no time diving in headfirst, the professor’s thick tongue sliding up and down the boy’s crack before diving deep inside. 

The only problem with the visor was that it muted the subject’s responsiveness. Cyrus stood stock still as he received an expert lesson on eating ass, but the professor did note a slight increase in the student’s breathing. Perhaps he found the situation as thrilling as McCaid did. 

Something to determine afterward, the professor decided as he rose to his feet and pressed his substantial erection at the boy’s entrance. He was clearly inexperienced, so the professor instructed, “Relax your sphincter as I press forward.”

Cyrus did so, and with more than sufficient saliva from his earlier tongue-lashing, McCaid slid inside. It was easily the tightest hole that the professor had ever had the pleasure of plundering, the firm musculature providing consistent and ecstatic pressure as he pushed himself to the hilt. 

Balls nestled at the boy’s rump, the professor brought his hands around to feel his pupil’s naked body. Cyrus's stocky build concealed it, but as the older man explored he discovered strength everywhere his hands touched. With the right programming, this boy could be utterly gigantic…

McCaid considered the possibilities as he began to thrust rhythmically. It had been some time since he'd been with a man, so it didn't take him long to fill Cyrus with his seed. He shuddered once, then twice, and then exhaled a satisfied moan. Finished, the professor extracted himself and decided on his next move. 

“Cyrus, I will now take you as my protege,” the portly professor said while wiping cum off his spent erection with a hankee. “When you take off the visor, we will begin a lurid sexual relationship in addition to my tutelage. Nod if you understand.”

The student nodded, still bent over the desk, a string of jizz slowly making its way down his beefy thigh. 

“Good. Now, when you take off the visor, you will remember what happened, but not the instructions I provided after our congress. Now, stand up and remove the visor.”

Cyrus did as he was told. As he removed the visor, his eyes brightened from a blank stare to a beaming smile as he beheld McCaid, nude from the waist down and still dripping cum. 

“Wow professor, that was… just wow,” he said in genuine astonishment. 

“Yes, it seems like my device might have unlocked more than merely your potential,” the professor said sheepishly, the adorable smile endearing himself to his pupil all the more. 

The student walked over and grasped McCaid’s still-hard cock. “I hope this extra credit assignment goes this well all the time,” he said, giving it a few playful tugs. 

“I’m getting the distinct impression that it might,” McCaid said before leaning in to share their first kiss. 

Just as the professor had ordered, the bearish teacher and the strong cub had passionate sex that was far more interactive than when Cyrus was wearing the visor, and far more satisfying. Afterward, McCaid instructed his pupil to meet him tomorrow after class to begin his extra credit assignment and for another private lesson. 

“Damn, professor, that was great,” Cyrus said wiping what he couldn’t swallow from the side of his mouth. As instructed, Cyrus returned to the professor’s office after class for extra tutoring, but it wasn't long before McCaid caught his pupil with his hand down his pants. The interruption concluded with the professor's pants around his ankles and thrusting his hardon in and out of his student’s mouth. 

“You're most welcome,” McCaid smiled as he drew up his trousers. “But remember, the trolley problem will be on the pop quiz at the end of the week, so read up on it at home.”

Cyrus understood he was being dismissed, but as he returned his notes to his backpack, the professor returned with a visor. “I've also got your extra credit assignment. You recall this device from yesterday, don't you?”

“Yeah. It was kind of fun zoning out for a bit.”

“Yes well,” the professor pushed his glasses back to hide his sly smirk. The boy truly was the perfect subject. “This is a little different than yesterday. It's pre-programmed to provide you with additional lessons while you sleep. If it works, you should notice a definite improvement in your retention of the course materials.”

“That sounds good to me,” Cyrus said as he accepted the visor and placed it in his backpack. “So just put it on before bed?”

“Precisely. The visor will work as you sleep, and it has the added benefit of being a sleep aid.” 

The professor beamed as he explained, which Cyrus found endearing. He gave him a peck on the cheek and made his way home after his evening workout.

That night, after getting undressed and lying down to sleep, he placed the visor over his eyes and was immediately assaulted by flashing lights and colors. Then they winked out, and so did he. 

Cyrus dreamed. As with most dreams, it was almost impossible to recall the details, but upon waking, he'd remember colors, odors, and feeling of two bodies colliding—either in combat or congress, he couldn’t say. And all the while, a voice commanding him to grow…

He woke up with a morning wood tenting his sheets, his modest erection screaming for attention. It wasn’t unusual for Cyrus to wake up hard—he was a college student, after all—but this time it felt different somehow. Needier. More important. And maybe even… bigger?

He reached down to begin to tug. The tip was leaking pre like he'd been edging for hours—must have been a good dream, he thought. The slick liquid made it easier to stroke, and it wasn't long before he was cumming into his sheets. The stain, just like his hardon, seemed slightly larger than normal, but he chalked it up to his unusual arousal this morning. 

The weird thing was that his erection didn't abate. He had to jerk off twice more in the shower before his hardon finally went down, and even then, that tension at the base of his groin never really went away. Throughout hockey practice and classes, it felt like he was constantly on the verge of popping wood, but he knew if he did he'd be forced to jerk off to get rid of it. It took all his mental fortitude to make it to the end of the day and his daily meeting with Professor McCaid. 

The professor was cleaning the whiteboard when Cyrus entered the lecture hall. “Welcome, my boy, how was your—” the professor began but was interrupted as Cyrus approached the older man and kissed him deeply. He was hard as a rock. 

The sex was passionate bordering on frantic. Cyrus tore off his shirt before he ripped the professor’s vest off his chest. This took McCaid by surprise, but he didn't have time to be shocked before he found the boy's tongue buried far enough down his throat to tickle his uvula. From there it was limbs, sweat, and insertion into as many orifices as both men had. When Cyrus came, it was in such volume that it shocked both student and teacher. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Cyrus said sheepishly as he attempted to wipe the overflowing cum from the professor's ass. “It's been like this all day. Don't know what's up with me.”

“You’re just a growing boy with a healthy libido,” the professor said with a calming air, only slightly undermined by how hard he was breathing. “Frankly, I'm not complaining.”

The two attempted to return to the usual lesson plan, but it was clear Cyrus couldn't concentrate. Ten minutes later, he got up and simply tore open the professor's slacks, fished out his cock, and began sucking like a man dying of thirst in the desert. 

There was no further discussion of the course material that evening. Cyrus apologized, but McCaid assured him that even if he didn't get as much out of the private lessons, he'd still get plenty from the visor that night. His anxiety appeased, Cyrus gathered his clothes and got dressed to go home. He was briefly confused as to why he couldn't keep his stomach from peeking out beneath his t-shirt but passed it off as having shrunk in the wash. 

That night, Cyrus put on the visor and dreamed again. It was much like the night before; colors, sounds, scents, size. And always a commanding voice instructing him to grow.

Every night, the same dreams, the same voice, and every morning an erection that somehow seemed larger than the night before. And just like the first night he’d use the visor, his morning wood just couldn’t be sated. Jerking off in the shower twice before class didn’t even come close to satisfying him, and even his sessions with the professor only left him wanting more. 

It wasn’t just his dick either. Cyrus noted with some dismay that his clothes weren’t fitting right. His stomach was showing beneath every shirt he owned, his chest and neck felt constricted even in his biggest hoodies, and his pants creaked and groaned. He was worried if he bent his leg too far his quads would tear his jeans in half. He’d already lost two pairs of boxers to catastrophic failure, and he could already tell his stretchiest jock was in danger of snapping under the combined weight of his cock, balls, and ass.

But strangest of all was that he seemed to be getting taller. The professor used to require a slight stretch for their lips to meet, but on Friday, Cyrus didn’t have to stretch at all. By Monday, he even had to lean down. 

Tuesday morning, after jerking off three times in the shower—the only place that could contain his massive cum shots—Cyrus took stock of himself in the mirror. He’d always been stocky, a lifelong love of food and hockey giving him a strong core with a plush exterior, but now he looked like a defensive lineman or some sort of powerlifter. Each leg was as wide as his former waist, and his barrel of a torso ended in a belly that nearly fell into the sink. His broad chest and shoulders extended beyond the width of the bathroom mirror, making it impossible to know his true dimensions, but the difficulty he had maneuvering through the bathroom door made it apparent: he was big. Huge. 

Something was seriously wrong, but Cyrus couldn’t figure out what. He’d always been a big guy, hadn’t he? The bigger the better, right? But why didn’t any of his clothes fit? Why did his shoes feel like they were crushing his toes? Why did even the biggest jock he had consistently fail to keep his nuts from falling out and slapping against his thighs like two oranges in a grocery bag? 

After trying and failing to get his biggest jeans over his enormous thighs, Cyrus gave up, and with fingers so thick they could barely use his phone, he called the professor for help. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t fit into anything anymore,” Cyrus whined, a note of panic slipping into his voice. “I’m just… enormous.” 

Even though the professor’s voice sounded distant through the phone, Cyrus felt comfort when he heard McCaid say, “Don’t worry—I’m coming over.” 

After hanging up, Cyrus realized that the professor had never come to his place before. His panic suddenly given focus, Cyrus pushed away the distress of not knowing why his clothes didn't fit and instead frantically attempted to clean his apartment. He was halfway through vacuuming when he heard a knock on the door. 

Realizing he was still naked, Cyrus attempted to shield himself with the door as he cracked it open. As with his attempt at cleaning, he was only partially successful. 

“Hi professor,” Cyrus greeted, “come on in.” 

“Well, this is quite the sight!” McCaid said as he followed his hulking pupil inside and away from public view. 

“Yeah sorry, I tried to clean—”

“Hush my boy, I wasn’t referring to your comfortable mess,” the professor corrected, then offered Cyrus the duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder. “Here. These are the largest hand-me-downs I could muster on short notice. They might fit your middle, but I fear they’ll be tight around those shoulders.”

Relief washed over Cyrus as he gratefully accepted the bag. “Just so long as they fit,” he replied, but just as he was about to unzip the bag, the professor’s hand stopped him.

“Now now, let’s not be hasty,” McCaid said, trailing a finger up a forearm that could have outmeasured a half-gallon bottle. “Like I said when I came in, I’m quite enjoying the view.” 

“Oh yeah?” Suddenly catching the professor’s drift, Cyrus dropped the bag and stood before the professor with his feet splayed and his arms curled above his head. “You like this?” Cyrus tensed his muscles and his arms nearly doubled in circumference. 

“Very much so,” the professor whispered in awe as he ran his hands over Cryus’s arms, down his chest, and over his belly. “And especially this.” 

McCaid reached down and hefted a cock that Cyrus couldn’t see over his jutting anatomy, but he could certainly feel. And it felt… heavy. He could see the professor's arms work to heft his shaft and fondle his nuts, and when they fell back down it tugged at his groin, like pounds of flesh were just hanging there. It felt incredible. 

And it took almost no time at all under the professor’s examination for Cyrus’s cock to balloon outward and upward, the angry purple head fully visible past his stomach. And was that… a foreskin? Wasn’t he always cut? But no, how could he be? Not when the professor tugged and covered the shiny head in thick, veiny skin. It was a deliciously novel sensation, previously nonexistent neurons activating and sending ripples of pleasure throughout his entire body. 

Cyrus was already dripping pre-cum as he posed for his teacher, McCaid’s eyes devouring the sight even as he continued to absently jerk the nearly 9-inch cock that twitched before him. 

“I don't really know what's going on, prof,” the enormous student flexed his chest, making the twin slabs of beef bounce. “But I kind of like this.”

“What's not to like,” McCaid murmured. “What's this confusion about? You've always been on the larger side.”

Cyrus took a step back from the professor’s touch and this time brought both his arms forward, flexing his back to spread lats that could blot out the sun. “But this big? So big that none of my clothes fit?”

Now that he'd put enough distance to see over the massive mounds of his chest and stomach, Cyrus could see that the professor was rock hard. The sight sent a thrill to the tip of his cock, which twitched hard enough to fling a drop of precum right at McCaid’s face. 

“A problem for another time,” McCaid said, licking the clear, sticky liquid from his beard. “Right now we have more pressing issues.”

“Like what?”

The professor dropped to his knees and before stuffing the bratwurst-sized organ into his mouth said, “Like this.”

At first, it was odd to receive the professor’s affection orally. He could recall during his earlier after-class visits the professor being able to easily engulf his member. Now he seemed to struggle to get even a third of the way, his massive head being more than enough to fill McCaid’s mouth. It was at once both frustrating and thrilling. 

The frustration quickly left as McCaid finally gave up on being able to pleasure such an enormous organ with only his mouth and brought both hands to stroke the thick and hairy shaft. This got a moan from the still-flexing student and another burst of pre from his member. 

This was enough to get the professor to stand and plant his mouth full of pre on Cyrus’s lips. McCaid marveled at how he could barely wrap his arms around his student as the two made out, swapping spit and precum in equal measure. Finally, after several minutes of tongue play, the professor commanded the student: “Fuck me.” 

For Cyrus, it was like a mental switch had been flipped. Suddenly, nothing else mattered—not his new physique, not the professor’s tongue running along his pecs, nothing but shoving his cock as far inside McCaid’s hole as it would go. 

McCaid was a fairly large gentleman, but Cyrus picked him up and carried him to his bedroom as though he were a featherweight twink. As soon as he was on the bed, Cyrus robotically tore open the professor’s clothes until the middle-aged bear’s own uncut cock was trailing precum over his hairy belly. With quick, efficient movements, Cyrus slathered his impressive pole in lube, lifted the professor's legs over his shoulders, and pressed himself against the professor’s hole.

There was no compassion, trepidation, or even amusement in Cyrus’s eyes as he relentlessly slid inch after inch into the professor’s totally unprepared hole. Only the singular, unwavering focus of the command to fuck his teacher. And no sooner had Cyrus rammed himself balls deep did he pull back to piston his nine inches like a freight train. 

For his part, McCaid knew what would happen after uttering the command phrase, but perhaps had underestimated the boy’s strength. As a large man, and more importantly a large bottom, McCaid was no stranger to large implements, but being so thoroughly fucked by the entranced student was like being plundered by an uncaring machine. All that mattered was the task and ensuring its completion as efficiently as possible. 

It took barely a minute of Cyrus’s pistoning before McCaid splattered cum all over himself. Through orgasmically-gritted teeth, the professor said, “cum,” and the light returned to Cyrus’s eyes. Realizing where he was, what he was doing, and how incredible it felt stretching the professor’s hole was more than enough to get the student to cum as well, albeit in much larger volume. 

“I still don’t know what’s going on,” Cyrus said as the two basked in the afterglow of their titanic lovemaking. “But I really like it.” 

“I can perhaps help with the confusion,” the professor said, extracting himself from their embrace and revealing the large puddle of cum that had leaked out of McCaid’s ass. He returned with the bag of clothes he’d brought and revealed another visor from within. “I’ve enhanced the programming, you could say, so there shouldn’t be any more panic attacks like today. Just continue wearing it before bed.”

“Thanks, professor,” Cyrus said, greatly accepting the visor in hands so larger they looked like they could be crush the delicate metal circle easily. “I dunno what I’d do without you.” 

“Indeed,” the professor grinned. “But let’s say I perform a more thorough examination of you just to be sure I haven’t missed anything.” With that, McCaid leaned down to the supine behemoth and began another bout of lovemaking.

The following week brought an unnatural calm to Cyrus. He was still growing larger by the day, but he'd somehow made peace with the situation. It didn't bother him that after a few days he was already outgrowing the clothes kindly donated by Professor McCaid. The slacks were tight across thighs that honestly seemed larger than Cyrus’s entire torso a mere few weeks ago, and his chest seemed set to burst from the cottony confines of a 3XL turtleneck. 

He also didn't mind the stares he received walking around campus, his belly exposed to the world, his sleeves ripping at the cuffs, and the outline of his enormous cock clearly visible through the slacks. He’d grown so long that he'd been forced to start choosing a pant leg every morning to feed his snake into, but the mere friction of walking around meant he was basically half-hard all day long. And that was only after jerking off four or five times before leaving home.  

By the time classes ended and Cyrus went for his daily tutoring session, a wet spot was clearly visible on his pants about halfway to his knee. By the time he reached the door, he was already hard enough to want to rip his pants off just to make the tension stop. 

The only thing that did bother him was his grades. They hadn't improved despite the professor’s extra sessions, and Cyrus was beginning to despair that he'd never fully understand the course material. 

“I'm sorry, sir, I just don't get the psychological imperative,” Cyrus whined while thrusting nearly a foot of cock into McCaid’s backside.

“Nonsense, my boy,” the professor's response came in short syllables punctuated by Cyrus’s rhythm as he fucked McCaid on his desk. “You just, need, to trust—oh fuck—the process. Hnngg!”

That was the professor’s second load already. Each time he made McCaid cum sent a thrill of accomplishment through Cyrus, getting him closer to his own orgasm. It was strange—he could cum a dozen times alone, but he always put the professor’s orgasm before his while they were together. He assumed it was merely his growing affection for his tutor and couldn't even imagine it as part of his mental conditioning. 

“God, that's good,” the professor said in between the meaty slaps of his ass colliding with Cyrus’s pelvis. “Now, cum, you, fuckbeast! Fill me, up!”

No sooner has McCaid ordered him did Cyrus feel his orgasm wash over him. As instructed, he filled the professor to capacity and beyond, the excess jizz erupting from between them like a volcano to form a puddle on the desk. 

“Simply incredible,” the professor gasped. 

“Thanks, prof,” Cyrus grinned as he extracted himself with an obnoxiously loud schlorp, more cum running in rivulets down the professor's desk to form a secondary puddle on the floor. “But what about my marks?”

“Not to worry,” the professor reached into his desk to pull out another visor. “This should take care of things. I guarantee it.”

Cyrus accepted the visor and smiled brightly. He believed the professor wholeheartedly and required no instructions on what to do with the new visor. 

The next few days, Cyrus noticed a few odd occurrences. His growth continued, but that was normal—he was a growing boy, after all. That was to be expected. 

But the hair… Cyrus had always possessed a healthy coat, but it was blonde and diffuse. What was appearing on his arms, legs, stomach, and especially his groin was dense and dark, and spreading. Within a few days, he was covered in a pelt that was doubly noticeable now that even the biggest shirt the professor provided was like a crop top. 

And it was just… so hard to concentrate these days. He just couldn't follow any of the professor’s lectures, not to mention any of his other classes. He'd just stare at the lecturer, his heavy brow furled in consternation, incomprehension driving him to frustration. 

A frustration that only seemed to be solved after his daily visit to see the professor. He was so big now that he couldn't fully penetrate his tutor, but McCaid still seemed to enjoy even half his cock, and it was still more than enough to get Cyrus to cum literal buckets. McCaid has even taken to having several mops on hand for when they'd finally finished.

“My boy,” the professor said over his shoulder while once again being railed by his favorite student. “I must say, if these grades don't improve, I'll be forced to give you a failing grade.”

Cyrus, his cock spewing enough pre to already overfill the professor's capacious ass, was aghast. “It just so hard, me not get what you say.”

McCaid put on a reassuring smile and Cyrus felt immediately at ease. “I know, and I have just the perfect solution.” The professor reached into his desk and pulled out another visor. 

“Yes, this was my first successful project,” McCaid told his two visitors, researchers from the University of London. They'd heard of McCaid’s work and, both being gay, demanded to see for themselves. 

What they say was an absolute beast of a man. Covered in hair, a beard that looked more like a mane, so large he filled the professor's office even with the desk pushed to the side, and the smell… it was overpowering. Like sweat and sex left for days on end combined with the most manly musk imaginable. 

The scent alone was already making both visitors tent their slacks. 

“Cyrus here can barely recognize his name,” McCaid explained as he approached his former student. “But he's very obedient. Cyrus? Pose for me.”

On command, the beast shifted his immense bulk, revealing an impossible musculature covered in both a thick hide and even thicker hair. A silverback gorilla would have been put to shame. 

“Now, Cyrus,” the professor raised a hand theatrically. “Show us your erection.”

The beast shifted again, thrusting his pelvis forward so his colossal cock and balls swung like a pendulum. With each swing, a cock already the size of a leg thickened and stiffened until it reached outward a distance better measured in feet than inches. The only thing preventing it from arcing toward the ceiling was his equally colossal belly. 

“And finally, Cyrus: cum.”

The command immediately caused Cyrus to shudder, then thrust, then spasm as cum spewed from his massive cock in ropes so thick it was like paint being thrown from a paint can. The visitors were immediately covered in white, sticky goo, but Cyrus didn't stop spewing. After nearly a minute, the three men and one beast were standing in an inch of cum. 

“Good boy,” the professor said, and the beast grumbled happily.