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  1. Chapter 1 As I slid the white chinos over my ass, I had to struggle a little bit. These were my favorite dress pants because they were tight in that sexy way that hugged my ass, but they’d never quite strangled my ass like this before. I walked over to the full-sized mirror on the closet door and looked at my ass in the pants as best I could. I looked a little thick, like my workouts had been returning some serious dividends. “Danny,” I cried out, turning from one side to the other, “come in here.” My husband came into the bedroom, frantically adjusting his tie and looking a little miffed that I’d called him in. “We’re going to be late,” he said, kicking a half-empty box aside. We’d just moved into this house five days ago from an apartment halfway across California, and we hadn’t finished unpacking yet. He’d just gotten a new job at ChorrTek, a multinational corporation, and they’d paid for us to relocate to the planned community just outside their Palo Alto headquarters. As far as I was aware, the community didn’t even have an actual name: everyone just called it the ChorrTek planned community. I had been sad to leave behind the small number of friends I had in LA—it takes me forever to warm up to new people—but it was the right move for both of us. Besides, the house was beautiful, if gigantic. In addition to two guest bedrooms, there were just a lot of rooms. It had a living room, and a den, and a TV room. When I was growing up, all three of those were the same room. I was pretty sure we didn’t own enough furniture to fill it. “Did these pants shrink, or did my ass get bigger?” I asked, turning around slowly in a complete circle and sticking out my rear end to give him every possible vantage. When I was facing him again, I stopped and held my hands out to the sides for his assessment. “You’re not even dressed yet?” he asked. He picked my long-sleeved blue pullover off the bed where I had put it and threw it at me. Laughing, I caught the shirt and slung it over one shoulder. “You didn’t answer the question.” Danny rolled his eyes in frustration and made a face of pure consternation. “Your ass looks great, RT. It always looks great.” “Still not answering the question,” I teased in a sing-song. “Okay, yes, your ass looks bigger. Keep up the good work, tiger. Now will you get dressed? I don’t want to be late.” I zipped up my pants and put on my shirt. “Get over here,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “I want to make sure we match.” “What?” he asked, trudging over like a toddler who’s been told to pick up his toys. I put my arm around his shoulder, and held him close to me. He had spent hours trying to wheedle me into a suit and tie, and the only way I’d gotten him to give up was to promise that my outfit would match his. He was wearing a tan suit with a bright blue tie. “Look at us,” I said, pointing in the mirror. Danny was slightly taller than me—an inch at most—and had classic Mediterranean features he inherited from his mother’s side of the family, complete with curly black hair on the top of his head that he spent a lot of haircuts and grooming products to keep as flat as possible, thick facial hair that needed twice-daily shaving to keep him as smooth as he wanted, deep chestnut eyes that shined a little behind contact lenses (because he was too vain to wear glasses), and the appearance of a year-round tan. My Danny was thin, but wiry, with soft, delicate features like a Botticelli. He looked model handsome in his suit. I, on the other hand, had gotten everything from the British Isles courtesy of my father: straight brown hair that I kept cut close to my head, a beard that took two weeks to fully come in, pale blue eyes, and skin that only ever burned, never tanned. However, I was naturally stocky and had a chiseled face and broad jaw, and I’d dedicated the last month and a half trying to get back into the top-notch shape I’d had when I played college baseball. As we looked at ourselves in the mirror, Danny softened a little, and added, “We’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.” “Just let me splash on some cologne,” I said as Danny groaned in impatience, “and then we can head out.” “You’re stalling on purpose,” Danny said, half-jokingly. “It’s your work thing, darling. I don’t exactly relish going.” “It’s just this one last thing, and then you’re free,” he said. “Yeah, yeah,” I responded, closing the bathroom door before me. At least a dozen different events had been “one last thing.” There was so much schmoozing involved in getting him this job at ChorrTek. It was on the cutting edge of technology, but it was such a boy’s club. I hadn’t seen a single female executive at any of the meetings or functions, and there certainly weren’t any on its website. Danny had to basically swindle them into hiring their first out gay executive. “It’s a welcome party.” “You’re not the only new employee,” I reminded him. “I’m the only new executive,” he chimed back. “They’re essentially throwing the party for me,” Danny explained for the tenth time. “They expect my husband to be there.” Only mildly annoyed, I called through the door, “I’m going to spend the night making small talk with strangers while you try to ingratiate yourself with your new coworkers and bosses. No part of that is fun for me.” “I’m the first gay executive at this company, ever, and they hired me from the outside rather than promote one of their own. It’s a big deal,” he repeated. “Is that so?” I said half under my breath as though this were new information. As I was putting on the cologne, looking at myself in the harsh, overhead bathroom lighting, I looked at myself again. My arms looked thicker, my chest looked thicker, my neck looked thicker, my shoulders even looked a little broader. I looked like I’d put on some mass. I decided to step on the scale. 176. This morning I was just over 170. What the hell? “Is this scale broken?” I asked Danny. I could hear that he’d been pacing in the bedroom because his footsteps suddenly stopped. “What are you on about now?” he asked, his footsteps starting up again. He came into the bathroom without even knocking. When he saw me on the scale, I could see the effort he exerted to prevent himself from making an exasperated grimace. “Why are you on the scale?” “I know I’ve been working out a lot, but this scale says I put on five pounds today. Today. In one day. That doesn’t happen.” I flexed my forearm and bicep of my left arm in front of me, turning it one way and then the other. I looked thicker. Danny grunted. “I should’ve waited until after the party, but I was impatient and I wanted to make a good impression.” That was a confusing response. “I don’t follow.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to me. There was a new app that had ChorrTek’s logo on it. “All the executives get this app. It’s in-house only, though. They never plan to take it to the general market. It’s the latest in body mod technology. They swear it’s super-scientific. But I’m just the ad guy, so it sounds like magic to me.” “A body mod app?” “It’s the ultimate employee perk. It allows you to make some tweaks.” “And so you tweaked my body?” “Well, it’s tuned to your body. At your check-up to switch over to my employee healthcare, that shot you got was the corresponding hardware. My app can only make tweaks on you. No one else.” “I again say, so you tweaked my body?” “All of the execs at the company have this app and use it to tweak their wives. It’s like real-life Face Tune.” “But you didn’t tweak my face,” I reminded him. “I want to put my best foot forward. I had to use the app eventually, or they’d see it as an insult. It could’ve waited until after the party, yeah, but I got impatient. They’ve only ever used it on their wives. They’re curious to see how it works on a man. It’s not my fault their spouses were doorstops and you’re drop dead sexy. You left very little room for improvement.” I looked back in the mirror and flexed. “I look good with five more pounds of mass.” “Hot as hell,” he said. “With all the working out you’ve been doing, I figured you wouldn’t mind a little boost.” He stood behind me and began kissing the back of my neck and behind my ears. Even though he’d shaved an hour ago, I could already feel some of his facial hair starting to scratch my soft, tender skin. “Dammit,” I said, falling back into his waiting arms. “Can we go to the party now.” I turned my neck and head to kiss him on the cheek. “Alright.”