Obscene Street Art
Painting cocks is an art.
You approach Mr. Caruso's front porch in the middle of this dark night. You're dressed from head to toe with dark clothing. A scarf inside your dark hoodie obscures the lower half your face.
Anyone who saw you dressed like this would think you look like a burglar. They'd be mistaken. Tonight, you're an artist.
You look at the freshly-painted white wall and behind your scarf your lips form a wry smile. Ah, the perfect blank canvas. You had never crossed paths with Mr. Caruso, he was a complete stranger to you but let's be honest, anyone who paints their walls a sensual white are asking for this.
The white wall stands in front of you, teasing you all bare like that, begging for you to do dirty things to it.
You let the bag containing your tools drop from your shoulder with a thud. You open the zipper and take out a can of spray paint.
You shake the can and after carefully planning a rough sketch in your mind, you proceed to unleash your creativity against the canvas. You spray the wall with your fleshy pink-colored can, the virgin wall's dignity tarnished distastefully by your fluids. The thrill is so delightful!
You take your time rebelling in your naughty act, enjoying the sound the cans make as you shake them, your bastardly partner in crime for tonight's piece. You finish up your artwork by adding fine details with black paint, always the perfectionist. After a short but very pleasurable while you take a step back and admire your still wet masterpiece...
...Which looks pretty much like a very childish cartoony rendition of a man's genitalia undergoing an erection.
Okay, so maybe you weren't much of an artist yet. But seriously, just imagining everyone's surprised faces tomorrow when they see your rock-hard erection plastered there for all to see made you feel as aroused as your own graffiti is!
You admire your penis. It's delightfully crafted with much more personality than those crude dick doodles amateur graffiti artists do. You had even added some angry eyes on it. The dude, just look at it, it looks pissed off at whoever stares at it. It really shines with attitude.
"Fuck yeah, looks so awesome!" You mutter to yourself, your chest filled with pride as you contemplate your creation.
"Eh, I think you can make it better." A croaky male voice says behind you.
"Eh?!" You turn around bewildered. There was a figure that had been observing you at work for a really long while that you hadn't noticed until now.
"Heh... Don't fear me." The figure is taller and much heftier than you. His considerate body fat gives him the appearance of a sumo wrestler rather than a boxing champion, but there's still something very imposing about his presence. You can tell that if he proposed to smash you flat into the floor, he very well would be able to and with pleasure. But the most mysterious thing about this person is his face... He has the head of a frog! Was it a mask? It definitely was rubbery-looking but then again frog skin is also like that.
Your shaking fingers felt weak and your cans of spray paint fell to the floor. You've been caught in fraganti.
"Eh, I'm not going to report you or anything. In fact you could say I'm a connoisseur of things like this." He pointed a webbed hand at your artwork.
"You're a graffiti expert?" You asked incredulously.
"Uh? Of course not. I meant I love dick." The frogman smiled. "You can call me Ranito."
That was one hell of an introduction. You were about to tell him your name, but hesitated at the last second. Why would you give personal information to a suspicious man... Er... frog, like him?
"Ah, don't worry. I don't actually give a fuck about your name. But I just couldn't keep my mouth shut about your cock."
You look at your piece of art and remember what the frog had first said. "You think it's bad?"
"Of course not! It's a masterpiece of an erection. It's overflowing personality! I can almost imagine its attitude! I don't think I could have made it look any better."
"But then why did you say that I could have made it better?" You ask.
"Because there's only one thing that graffiti is lacking..." The frog gets closer to you and points at your chest, at your heart. "...You."
PUSH!
The frog had only needed one finger to push you backwards into your graffiti. It happened so fast. You expected to feel a painful impact but for a second it was as if the wall had been turned into water. Your entire body went through effortlessly as it was absorbed, but the same couldn't be said about your clothes which had fallen into the ground.
What... what the hell has happened?
You want to move but your body is immobile... It's... Stiff... So stiff it hurts!... You try to wiggle your naked flesh free but the bricks on the white wall won't let you, only making the stiffing sensation enveloping your hard-as-bricks body much more intense.
You look at the frogman, he's bursting out laughing, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Oh, I just love when an artist pours their entire self into their art... literally."
What the fuck had that devilish frog just said? You try to protest but you don't feel your mouth anymore. Your form feels much... simpler. Also, the top of your head feels very exposed.
"I really enjoy graffiti artists. As in, artists who are graffiti. Hahaha...!"
That can't be...! You can't possibly have been turned into your own graffiti... A graffiti of a hard, REALLY hard, veiny cock whose big balls were overflowing with... Oh fuck...
"What is it? Starting to regret not having drawn all that cum in your balls spurting out? Maybe next time you can bring a white can of spray paint with you... Oh, I just forgot... There won't be any next times for you, you piece of trashy art! Enjoy being your own exhibitionist exhibition, dick doodler!"
The frog laughs even harder, and you know it's true. You can feel your balls being on the verge of bursting in a torrent of semen. A cum explosion that would never come to fruition simply because cum wasn't part of your drawing. Your eyes stare at the frog with menacing anger... because that's the cocky expression you had decided to draw on the dick. You have become your own creation.
"You won't need these anymore." The frog firmly declares as he picks up your black clothing and spray tools and throws it all into a trashcan. The cold air makes you feel naked and exposed without your clothes, but you still feel hot and permanently rock hard. You feel the urge to be touched, played with and sucked. You're a drawing of an erect penis, after all...
Before leaving the frogman dedicates you some parting words. "I'm sure everyone will be all over you when they find your cocky self painted here... I wonder how long you will last... Hahahaha... See you never!"
What did he mean by "how long will you last"? You didn't fully understood until dawn came...
"Who is the degenerate who drew such a hideous thing on my beautiful home?!" Mr. Caruso, who turned out to be a middle-aged man, brought his hands to his bald head when he saw you painted on his wall. "It's an obscene abomination!"
If only he knew that degenerate had been the graffiti itself! You'd giggle at the irony if you could.
The night had been eternal thanks to your full balls. You couldn't think straight, you really needed to cum but you could only impatiently await release. And you didn't exactly mean release from your brick prison, although that would be appreciated as well.
Dammit, what's wrong with you? Escaping is way more important than a single orgasm! Why can't you keep your priorities straight at a time like this?! All that cum flowing into your head was making you think like the actual dickhead you looked like.
Mr. Caruso storms back home. Some people pass by while he's gone. Some giggle at your form, others simply roll their eyes at the childish joke you are. But not a single one of them even think about helping that inanimate drawing on the wall attain his long awaited release.
You mentally plead for them to come to your rescue, to revert this strange curse you had been afflicted with. Or more urgently still, lick your hard shaft and suck you off.
C'mon, anyone! There's a masterfully-crafted painting of a dick on the wall! Why does nobody get the urge to lick the wall?! There has got to be someone who likes to do things like that!
It wasn't long before Mr. Caruso came back dressed in overalls and a bucket full of... white paint.
Oh shit...! Just what you need! If he paints some white on top of your dickhead then you'd feel release! You were sure of it! That's how art definitely works!
Mr. Caruso dipped a big rolling brush in the bucket of white paint...
YES! Please! You HAD to cum!
...and painted over your testicles, making them disappear from the white canvas that was Mr. Caruso's wall...
Uh... What? Where had all that cum go? Just like that, your horniness had been castrated short.
...Mr. Caruso kept painting over your body. He buried your rebellious-looking eyes into nothingness, rendering you completely blind...
Hey! Who turned off the lights?! Seriously, this sucks way too hard. Why didn't he draw some droplets of cum on your dickhead like he was supposed to? That would have been so pleasurable, specially after waiting all night with this permanent hardon. Really, painting white all over you like this didn't feel good at all! And what would it accomplish apart from completely erasing your existence from the wo-
"...There, all gone. Phew! These freaking delinquents. I hope that someone gives this graffiti artist the punishment they deserve someday..." Mr. Caruso brushed off the sweat from his hard work feeling glad that the graffiti was no more and his wall was, once again, a completely blank canvas.