"Two, um, Scratch 'n Wins, please."

Gary watched as the bored bodega cashier ripped a pair of gaudy lottery scatch-off panels off one of the long rolls of perforated cards behind the Plexiglas partition. "Two bucks," the cashier growled, tossing the cards on the counter. Gary dropped two dollar coins on the counter next to it and snatched up the cards, waiting just the extra second to catch the cashier's sneer of annoyance at having to deal with dollar coins, before hurrying out of the deli.

His bus was just pulling up to the bus stop—half a block away. He run for it, his raincoat flapping wildly behind him in the high pre-storm wind. He bounded up the steps onto the bus, barely slackening his pace, and threw himself onto the empty seats behind the driver as the bus got underway.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Gary turned his attention to the lottery cards. Outside the bus the thunderclouds suddenly burst, pummeling the little tin box with sheets of hard rain, a constant roar of countless striking raindrops filling the bus's interior. The driver slowed to nearly a crawl. Gary glanced out?it looked like a monsoon. The other side of the avenue was barely visible. There was no way he'd make it to his interview undrenched, umbrella or no umbrella. It was bad enough he was fresh out of NYU?did he have to make a first impression soaking wet as well?

He sighed and fished another dollar coin out of his tight suit trousers. For some reason he'd taken to the golden coins and used them whenever he could, though most of his friends were divided into two groups—those who didn't care for them and those who loathed them. He smiled slightly and looked over the first card. You had to match three of the same item in the sixteen squares, it said. O.K. He rubbed away the first square. It said, "2 in."

Gary blinked. Weren't these prizes usually money? Two inches of what? He rubbed the gray covering off the second square. This one said, "20 lb."

Intrigued by these cryptic prizes, Gary kept rubbing. The next two squares said "3 in." and "face."

Gary shook his head and looked up, as if expecting to see his half-dozen fellow travelers as perplexed as he. They were, however, all cocooned in their own lives, not even registering Gary looking around at them. One teenager in the back was singing atonally along with his headphones.

Gary glanced outside for a quick second. The monsoon had deepened and it felt like night out. It was like a dreamscape, a slow-motion ride on another planet.

The next four squares said "3 in.," "40 lb.," "JACKPOT," and "5 in."

Gary licked his lips. He had dared to allow an inkling of that these prizes might mean to cross his mind, but he made it cross without stopping.

The next four squares said "5 in.," "JACKPOT," "20 lb.," and "2x."

Only four more to go. He scratched them off one at a time, his hand unexpectedly trembling. "Face." Three more to go. No matches yet. "3x." What if he didn't win anything? Why was he suddenly so invested in this game? "40 lb." He knew he'd win something. He'd felt certain when he started scratching, without even realizing it.

He stared at the last gray square for just a second, then quickly scratched it away. Revealed beneath was his prize.

It said, "5 in."

Gary caught his breath. Almost immediately he felt a strange rippling tingle in his slumbering cock. At first it felt like it was trying to awaken, struggling against the soft cloth prison of his boxer-briefs. It was, but it wasn't just that. It was expanding, growing, stretching, creeping up and out of his undershorts like the boa constrictor a lover had once compared it to.

Gary kept very still, sure that if he kept his position his fellow New Yorkers would notice nothing. He took a few deep breaths and realized his cock was stuck, it couldn't grow anymore. The way he was sitting, the bend in his torso was getting in the way.

Slowly, he stood up. No one paid any attention. He grabbed the overhead bar with his left hand and, pretending to hitch up his waist, gave himself a quick adjustment with the heel of his palm. His cock was now redirected more upwardly. The relief was considerable. He could almost feel his cock's joy at its liberation from his constricting nether garments. It was still growing, getting harder and expanding in length (and girth) at the same time. Gary's mouth felt dry—he'd been breathing rapidly. He told himself to breathe normally—otherwise he'd hyperventilate, and that would be sure to be noticed.

Suddenly the bus lurched to a halt and he had to grab the overhead bar hard to keep from falling. He grabbed the chance to finish shifting his now-rock-hard cock straight up. It was still growing, but the pace was leveling off now—which was just as well. He hadn't realized just how big his cock would be after growing 5 inches in length (and a proportionate amount in width). Especially since he'd been overendowed to begin with—he'd started the ride out at over 8x5, and that was plenty—more than enough for some, though he'd nonetheless always wondered what it would be like to have more. He worried whether this would be too much but at the moment he didn't care.

His cock stopped sliding up his abs now. It felt big as a forearm and oversaturated with pure sexual energy. Suddenly his balls churned and he was suffused with the rawest, most primeval orgasm he'd had in months. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

At that moment the bus doors opened. The teenaged headphones guy shoved past him, copping a quick feel of his monster cock through Gary's shirt. "Awesome show man," he said, winking up at him. Then he was gone.

Gary quickly looked back around. None of the other passengers even seemed aware of him.

Gary took several deep breaths. Then he looked down at the lottery cards, which he was still clutching in his right hand. The prizes on the one he'd scratched away had all changed into dollar amounts. What he'd won now said "$5,000."

Gary stared at the card, and at the second, unused one poking out from underneath it.

A few stops later, a very large man emerged from the bus into the torrential downpour, holding, rather than wearing, what looked like an undersized raincoat. He removed the tatters of his suit coat and shirt and let the rain pummel the bare skin of his hugely muscled torso. His strikingly handsome face was beaming with pleasure, and he was grinning uncontrollably; maybe the pounding rain felt good on his massive muscles, like a good massage; or maybe there was something more. He sloshed over to the curb and got into the bus shelter, managing to make the shelter look small around him, and repaid the stares of those still inside the bus—the New Yorkers he'd finally made notice him—with a grin and a wave.

As the bus pulled slowly away he fished a tiny cellphone out of his pocket, pausing as he did so to reposition the two monstrous pillars of cock thrusting obscenely out of his skintight, soaked trousers. He looked up a number in the phone, dialed it, and explained to the person he eventually reached that, no, he wouldn't be coming to the interview today after all—he'd just hit the jackpot.

Continued in Scratch 'n Win 2