Masturbate even more

You look down, and confirm that you indeed now have two dicks.

Sophie: "Wicked!"

Your instrument has a second string. The harmonious melodies it rings out play in the air as your own helpless squealing. Your self-pleasure has an ubiquitous rhythm and melody. But it doesn't feel yet refined. No, you must tune yourself some more.

This time you'll try something different. You lean back, pointing both of your horny implements as straight up as possible. Then as you rub out another double whammy, your entire front body gets a healthy dosage of proteins. You have that feeling again.

Sophie: "Grow! Grow, my pretties!"

From your crotch, your stomach, your breasts, your nipples, your arms and legs, countless of tiny nubs begin to enlargen and thrive. In a matter of seconds you have enough at your disposal for the strings of a complete phallic harp.

You gently slide your hands around, feeling waves of pleasure wash over your being. The ones that grew out of your nipples are the most densely packed with nerve endings: as if twiddling around a bundle of clitorises.

Then, a careless finger or a stray thought escalates into release. A small spill of cum spurts out from somewhere. Small as it is, this still constitutes as a full orgasm, and you lose control of yourself. This is the brilliance of it all: now you don't even have to play the notes yourself.

A choral cacophony follows as more and more jizz jets out at a staggering rate. You can no longer hope to control where it lands. You thrash around the apartment, soiling everything in your way: clothes, furniture, appliances. Even the ceiling gets it fair share. By the time it's all over twenty five minutes later, you've ended up in an inch deep puddle of semen.