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Trade


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Trade - Part 1

Here's a silly story I started that's inspired by Alakazam1988's story of the same name. This is the first story I've written, so any insight is greatly appreciated. I wrote most of the story around 3:00 in the morning so excuse any blatant spelling errors. This took more time than I was expecting, so kudos to all you story writers out there, this isn't easy. If there's any interest, I'll continue the story.

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In the quiet dark of the early Friday morning I stare blankly at the light fixture embedded in my bedroom ceiling. I know I only have a few minutes before my alarm goes off, but I can't bring myself to get out of bed while most people would still be sleeping. Three minutes later and I hear the familiar beeping of the digital clock on my nightstand urging me to get on with my daily routine. I reach out through sheer habit and deactivate the clock. It reads 4:30 am. I let out a small sigh as I swing my legs out from under the covers and over the edge of my bed. I toss the warmth of my cotton blanket aside and lurch my heavy frame off of the bed. I really need to start eating healthier, I think to myself as I head towards the washroom.

As I flick on the light in the washroom I take a quick glance at myself in the mirror above the sink. As I'm only wearing pajama bottoms, my wide torso is bare, exposing a slowly developing paunch with a sparse and uneven dusting of body hair. Hints of abs long forgotten can be seen if I flex hard enough, but doing so quickly leaves me out of breath. My arms are somewhat more impressive. They show little sign of definition, but thanks to being one of the few muscles I regularly workout, they are bigger than your average schmuck's. My eyes reach my face. My dark brown hair is rather thick and on the shorter side of the spectrum, to which I usually "style" by quickly running my hand through it and pushing it to one side. I have a square jaw, which I've been told makes me look manly, that I am rather happy about. What I'm not quite so happy about is what I try to pass off as facial hair on that square jaw of mine. I sport a sad attempt at a goatee, the only thing I can remotely grow on my face. Curse you genetics! I can't say I'm very proud of the state my body is in, but I choose to blame my lack of free time, regardless of how true that is. This is however, a daily event for me, so I quickly get on with getting ready for the day.

After a quick shower I brush my teeth then head back to my room to get changed into my uniform. I take out a blue ensemble from my closet and lay it out across my bed. I slip on a pair of blue shorts and a blue shirt.  I then pick up my hat, blue of course, before walking to the kitchen. A bright red sewn on badge of the post office that I work for stand out on each item of clothing. I have a quick bowl of cereal before I gather my things and head out of my apartment. I briskly walk down the steps of my building to warm myself up for the day before I reach the ground floor and get into my car.

The drive to the post office doesn't take long, especially not this early in the morning and since I'm a bit early today so I decide to take a scenic route. I live in a medium sized city with several suburbs surrounding it, some of which are actually quite pleasant to pass through. I decide on a route that passes directly through one of these neighborhoods and I let my mind begin to wander. The signs of spring have begun to show as new leaves push out from branches and the once yellow grass has begun to get it's green back. I notice several for sale signs outside some of the newer houses and can't help but feel jealous for anyone that can afford to live here. Sure it's not the most lofty of goals but honestly, I wouldn't mind settling down in the suburbs. I'd have more room for my things. Maybe I'd have nice neighbors. Or maybe-

Oh shit, a biker!

I snap back to my senses when I notice a biker just ahead of me. I swerve out of the way just in time to see the biker glaring at me and raising a questioning hand, a universal signal meaning, "What the hell man?" Now completely shocked out of my stupor, I keep my eyes on the road as I hurry towards the post office.

Once I reach the parking lot of the post office I notice a tiny red Toyota Corolla already parked. As usual, no matter how early I get here, my boss manages to get here earlier. I park next to my boss. The chill of the morning air nips at my exposed calves. It may be spring, but winter has yet to fully depart it seems. I shiver and quickly head into the building.

Now inside, I put my hat on and head to the back of the room, past the reception counter. The door to the mail room is open and I walk right in. Shelves of packages and mail to be delivered line the walls of the small room. I half expected to see Greg, my boss, still doing inventory but he's not here. Knowing how early he gets in, he's probably finished that half an hour ago. I see the light on in the break room and walk over. I peer into the room and see Greg sitting at the break table going over a stack of papers. He senses someone watching him and looks up.

"Ah, Bull, you're earlier than usual today," Greg says.

I take a quick look at my watch. 5:42 am.

"You're one to talk," I reply. "I... I almost ran over a biker this morning so I decided to just head straight here."

"What? Are you going to be alright to drive the van today?" Greg asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Of course, I just hadn't fully woken up yet." I say, trying to reassure him. Greg just shrugged. An awkward silence hangs in the air. "And you can stop calling me Bull. I didn't want that nickname fifteen years ago, and I don't want it now." I blurt out, desperately trying to change the subject.

I had gotten the nickname Bull for several reasons as a sophomore in high school. The first was when I was on the rugby team. I was an early bloomer and had my growth spurts early. Because of this, I was the widest guy on the team for a brief time. It didn't last long and I was quickly dwarfed by many of the other guys, but the team had already begun calling me Bull by that time. Another reason is one I wished people would forget. During my time on the rugby team a rumor went around that I was sleeping around with numerous girls in our grade as well as a few from the grade above. Despite my protests and denial, the rumor spread and the nickname stuck. The rumor even took a small detour and claimed that I had a huge package (mailman pun fully intended). I felt strangely flattered by this, but once my girlfriend at the time heard about it she scoffed, saying, "If only they knew how small it really was." Luckily, she wasn't the kind of gal to throw me under the bus for silly rumors, so she let it be.

"C'mon, Bull fits you fine," Greg says, a smile forming on his face. "You look nothing like a 'William' to me. Besides, I wasn't the one to start calling you Bull, it was Coach D."

I mentally let out a sigh of relief as we get back into our normal conversation topics. Greg stands up from the table and stretches his back out. Greg is taller than he looks and is at least a good half foot taller than me. Back in high school I was the taller of the two of us at 5'8" but part way through college he grew past the 6' mark. Since he was a year ahead of me in school I didn't really get to know him outside of rugby, but we shared the occasional nod when we passed each other in the hall. Nowadays however, Greg was one of the only people left that I could remotely call a friend.

The conversation meanders for a few more minutes before Greg gets back into business mode.

"It looks like you'll be pretty busy today. We have quite a few packages that need to be delivered and also a special delivery that needs to be sent ASAP." Greg says.

"A special delivery? What is it?" I ask. We don't usually get many special deliveries, and the ones we do get are usually picked up at our office.

"No clue. The only thing I know is that they are paying top dollar to get this sent as quickly as we can. Once you're ready to go I'll have you head out right away."

We spend the next half hour loading up the delivery truck and sorting out paperwork before I'm finally ready to leave. I settle into the driver's seat of the truck and boot up my handy little electronic delivery tablet. I scroll past the usual delivery routes and check the special delivery information. The destination is a business building in the commercial district of the city. I turn the truck on and begin my day of deliveries.

It's not long before I'm parked in front of my destination, a large nondescript concrete skyscraper. I check my tablet to go over the details once more. "Please hand deliver this to room 376A on the 26th floor. If no one is there to accept the package, please place it through the slot on the side of the door." Simple enough. I check myself in the rear-view mirror and adjust my hat. I grab the package and place it carefully into my delivery bag and head towards the building.

As I approach the building I see the glass entry doors with their own doormen. This was already way above my usual daily fancy intake, but the reception room that I next found myself was even more exquisite. Marble floors and pillars, a large fountain, exotic potted plants, granite statues. I was so overwhelmed it took me a second to get my bearings. Business men and women walked into the building, unfazed by the grandeur, probably used to the sights from seeing it daily. I walk to the reception desk and ask for directions to the room I'm looking for. The lady behind the counter politely gives me directions which I quickly commit to memory. I thank them and head to the elevators.

I see an open elevator and quicken my pace. The doors begin to close. "Someone hold the door!" I call out to the passengers inside. Luckily someone is kind enough to stop the closing doors and lets me on. I thank them and push the button for the 26th floor.

The passengers slowly file out of the elevator every couple of floors until there is only me and another man. I take a quick look at him. He's completely bald and wearing a gray business suit that fits him very well and is holding a briefcase in one hand. He's staring at the floor number display as it slowly increases, but what really catches my attention is his beard. Never before have I seen such a well maintained beard in real life. I can only see a slight angle from where I'm standing behind him, but I can tell that it's magnificent. I feel a pang of jealousy for the second time today. I almost feel embarrassed by having such lackluster facial hair in the presence of this stranger's beard. I guess this is what you'd call beard envy.

I look at the floor number display.

16... 17...

I try to look at the panel of buttons for the floors to see where the stranger is getting off, but he's blocking my line of sight. I silently hope that his floor isn't coming up any time soon so I can admire his beard a bit longer.

18... 19...

After passing the nineteenth floor, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. The stranger and I stand in silence for a minute before we realize the elevator just broke down. Crap, this isn't what I meant when I wanted more time. I have packages to deliver.

Another minute passes and to my surprise, the stranger turns around and breaks the silence.

"What a way to start the day. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to get this fixed" He says in a deeper voice than I was expecting.

I'm a bit surprised at his initiative, "Yeah. It's a good thing I don't have claustrophobia or this situation would be a lot worse," I reply, lamely attempting to make a joke. The stranger cracks a smile, surprising me once again. We talk for a bit and eventually introduce ourselves.

"I'm Tom, I work on the twenty-third floor," my new acquaintance introduces himself and sticks out his hand.

"I'm Will. I'm a mailman if you couldn't already tell," I say, gesturing to my getup as I accept his handshake.

More time passes and we continue our polite conversation. Eventually a speaker crackles to life.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience. The elevator seems to have encountered a technical problem. Help will arrive within the hour."

Tom and I share a look and resign to a long wait. It doesn't take us long to decide to sit down. Tom sits on his briefcase as a cushion and I sit on my delivery bag. We spend the next hour getting to know each other and talking about random things. Another announcement comes through the speaker at the hour mark.

"Help is taking longer than we expected to arrive. Please accept our deepest apologies."

"Damn. I guess that means I'm missing my meeting," Tom says.

While we talk I spend most of my time trying to discreetly ogle at Tom's beard, but eventually he notices my staring.

"What, do I have something in my beard?" He asks, one hand reaching towards his beard.

"Oh sorry, no. I-" I can feel my cheeks begin to redden. "I was just... admiring your beard," I admit.

He lets our a hearty laugh. "Don't be sorry. I spend a lot of time making it look good so I'm glad someone besides myself can appreciate it."

"Well I've got to say, I wish I could grow a beard like yours," I say.

"I can't help you there, but really, you shouldn't worry about it," Tom says. He brings his right hand to his bald head and slowly rubs it. "I'd rather have a head of hair any day of the week over a beard."

My eyes widen at his statement. "What? Honestly, I would absolutely trade my head of hair for that beard," I say, astonished by Tom's words.

"Ha, I would if I could. Too bad it doesn't work that way."

We talk about our follicle woes for a while longer before the conversation naturally shifts topics.

"So, why are you wearing shorts in this cold weather?" Tom asks, poking my bare calf with his finger.

"It's mandatory unfortunately. The union has a strict dress code that I need to follow." I reply. I talk about my work for a short while until we hear the sound of what we assume is the elevator maintenance coming to our rescue.

"I guess this is where we're set free?" Tom says jokingly. "It was nice meeting you. We should go out for drinks some day if you're interested?"

I agree and we exchange our contact info. We stand up and pick our makeshift cushions off the floor of the elevator. A few moments later the elevator rises to the next floor and the doors open. Several men in suits come forward once the doors are clear.

"We're deeply sorry Mr. Grovellen. We had to postpone your meeting with the prospective investors. We'll have the last elevator worker reprimanded for his shoddy procedure checks," The nearest man says to Tom.

"Don't worry about it. I got to have some much needed time socializing rather than just working all day." Tom says. He turns towards me and sees my confused expression. "What? Did I not mention that I own this building?" He says with a grin.

My jaw visibly dropped.

Tom laughs as he waves goodbye. "I hope to see you again soon." The elevator doors close once more and I am left to reevaluate my chance encounter.

I don't get much time to mull the experience over however as I finally reach my floor. I step out of the elevator and begin searching for room 376A. Most of the rooms look the same and when I peer through windows it reveals that this floor seems to be focused on research of some kind. It takes me a few minutes but I find the room I'm searching for. A quick look through the window in the door shows that the lights are off. I knock on the door and wait a few minutes just to be sure. I look beside the door and find a small mail slot. I open up my delivery bag and take out the package. When I get the package out of the bag I gasp. The small box has been squashed and a slight liquid stain is visible on one side. I completely forgot about it when I used the bag as a cushion. I try to repair the package as best I can, but there isn't much I can do. Eventually I give up and just hope that the contents can be easily replaced. I push the package through the slot with a weight of guilt on my shoulders and head back to the elevators. I choose a different one from when I arrived, no longer trusting it.

Once I arrive back at the delivery truck I quickly set up my route for the day before heading out once more. Several hours later I return to the post office.

"What the hell took you so long?" Greg says once he sees me entering.

I fill him in on getting trapped in the elevator, but conveniently omit the part about meeting Tom.

"Well it's already the end of your shift, so I guess you can leave." Greg shakes his head. "Have a good weekend."

I eagerly agree to the offer and head home, exhausted from the long day.

Once I'm home I toss off my uniform and change back into a pair of pajama pants. I grab a beer and a microwave meal and have my dinner. Afterwards I watch Netflix for an hour or so before my eyelids can barely stay open. I stumble into bed and fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

That night I had several strange dreams, but the only thing I could clearly remember from them was imagery of Tom, the man I met in the elevator.

I awoke the next morning with a shiver, my head felt unusually cold. I opened my eyes to see if I left my window open but it was clearly shut. I reached up to feel my head and yelped in surprise. I only felt smooth skin. I shot straight up and began feeling more of my scalp. I was completely and utterly bald. Eventually I began to notice that while the top of my head was cold, my face was rather warm, not to mention itchy. I slowly moved my hands to my cheeks.

"No way."

I had a beard and a thick one by the feel of it. I jumped out of bed and sped towards my washroom mirror. It took all my willpower not to break out into a sprint.

I reached the washroom and looked in the mirror. It took me a second to recognize my own face, but that's exactly what it was. What stared back at me in the mirror was clearly still me but my hair had completely disappeared and I had grown an epic beard overnight. A nagging thought came to my mind. I recognized my new look. I suddenly realized that I had the exact same beard that Tom had, thick, dark brown, and amazingly maintained. I was also bald just like him.

How did this happened? Am I hallucinating or is this a dream? I pinched my arm to check. The pain is crystal clear. This is real.

"Wow." This is the single craziest thing that's ever happened to me, but I can't help but admire my new looks. I had accomplished one of my secret life goals of growing an actual beard in a single night.

I need to know how this happened, but first, let me check out my new beard from another angle.

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Trade - Part 2

Here's the continuation of Will's story. My goal was to have more happen in the same amount of words and I think I accomplished that. Hopefully you'll enjoy some slightly more risque scenes this time. I have quite a bit more planned, so if you have any feedback let me know.

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I spent more time then I'm willing to admit admiring my new beard in the mirror. I poked and prodded my face and head, but I had no clue how this had happened. I went back to my bed to see if there was any trace of my hair, but there was nothing. Things can't just disappear, it's not scientifically possible. Still not able to wrap my head around my current situation, Tom popped into my thoughts again. Could he know something about what's going on? 

I picked my cellphone off my cabinet and unplugged it from it's charger. After flipping through my contacts for a second, I found Tom's entry and pressed dial. The phone rang and rang but there was no answer. Eventually it went to his voicemail.

"Hi, you've reached Tom Grovellen. Please leave a m-"

I hung up before the voicemail finished and tried again. One again there was no answer. I tried thinking of something to say that wouldn't make me sound crazy but I eventually decided not to leave a message and instead try again later.

With my one lead put on hold I was now back at square one, confused. Weird things might be happening to me but time waits for no man. I reluctantly head back to the washroom to get ready for my weekend.

I soon found that many daily activities are apparently much different with my new beard. My shower felt strange to say the least. The sensation of water running down my suddenly bald head was strangely nice. I quickly and awkwardly washed my beard for the first time before I finished showering. Getting dressed, my beard would get in my way and get caught and pulled from random movements. When I ate my breakfast I would sometimes end up with a mouth full of hair instead of food. While each of these instances were an annoyance, I let out a small smile each time since it was also a large reminder that I now had the beard of my dreams. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually.

After breakfast I gathered my gym supplies and headed for my car.

Most of my weekend was open, but Saturday mornings were reserved for going to the gym. I'm not the most dedicated gym goer, but I recently made it a resolution for myself to get back into shape. I missed my last two sessions though, so I'll really have to make this one count.

The drive into town was quick and like usual I arrive at the gym before the rush. I'm not a fan of crowds so early morning workouts like this are ideal for me. I walk into the gym and nod at the receptionist at the front desk. The young guy looks at me but before saying anything to me he gets a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. I guess he wasn't stuck between guessing if he recognized me or not. I don't blame him. I walk past and head to the men's locker room to get changed.

Like the gym itself, the lockers are mostly empty. I place my gym back on the bench behind me, open up a nearby locker and begin getting changed. I begin by taking off my shirt. As soon as my shirt covers my head I feel something jab me in the stomach.

"I'd recognize that fat stomach anywhere. So Willy finally decided to come back to the gym," A nearby voice calls out mockingly.

I quickly pull my shirt the rest of the way off me to see who it is, but I can already guess. I look towards where the voice came from and see a man. He's wearing a white tank top and a pair of black gym shorts. He's shorter than me and stands at about 5'7" but he's more ripped than I've ever been and he knows it.

My suspicions are dead on, I know him. His name is Carl and he's one of if not the cockiest people at the gym. Whenever he sees me at the gym, for whatever reason, he always ends up coming over and personally picking on me. 

His tanned pecs push against the fabric of his shirt as he stands there. Even with how much I dislike the guy, I can't help but admire how much effort he must have put into his time at the gym. He has a smirk on his face as if he caught me trying to be sneaky or something. He's holding a hand out with a finger extended, presumably what poked me, and flexing his bicep.

"O-oh, you're not-" Carl begins once he sees my face. He leans towards me and squints, "Wait, yes you are! You are Willy, right? You look totally different than the last time I saw you, but I can tell. Were you wearing a wig this whole time or something?" He shoots off a barrage of questions as he stares at my head, grinning once more.

"First of all it's just Will. Secondly, it's none of your business." I say as I turn back towards my gym back and continue getting changed.

"Come on Willy, I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you treat me?"

I ignore him. Once I'm finished getting dressed I push my things into my locker and walk out of the locker room with Carl right behind me. I decide to start with free weights and head towards the back mirror wall of the gym. I pick up a pair of 30 pound dumbbells.

"Woah there big guy! Don't overdo it and hurt yourself," Carl says sarcastically. He moves down the weight rack and picks up the 80 pound dumbbells. "I guess I'll stick around for a warm up."

I try to focus on the weights, but I can see Carl staring at me in the mirror. In an effort to leave Carl behind, I put my weights back and quickly head for the treadmills. I don't look back but a few seconds later I hear the clang of weights hitting the rack. Damn, he's still following me.

I set myself up at the nearest treadmill and begin a slow jog. Out of the corner of my eye I see Carl walk up to the machine directly to my right. Within seconds he's started sprinting.

"What are you doing Willy? My dead grandmother can go faster than you!"

I only grunt in reply. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of a genuine reaction, but inside I'm boiling with anger.

"You can't get a body like this by doing the wimpy stuff you're doing." Carl says, continuing to pester me.

I finally let a grimace show on my face for a second, but a second is all he needs. Seeing his actions taking root, he kicks his harassment up a notch.

"I know you want to look like me, everyone does. Unfortunately for a fatass like you that's never-"

"Hey!" A deep and imposing voice interrupts Carl. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Surprised, both Carl and I stop our treadmills and turn around to see a large man glaring at Carl. He was wearing what must be an XXL t-shirt, but filled it out with a physique that was somewhere between powerlifter and bodybuilder. His face was heavily stubbled. The sides of his head are shaved and he has a sort of messy faux hawk hairstyle. His arms are heavily tattooed and he has a generally menacing air to him. He walks closer towards me but keeps his eyes on Carl.

"You alright?" The stranger asks me.

Before I can respond Carl interjects, "Don't worry man, we're just having some fun"

"Really? It didn't look or sound like it to me." The stranger says, crossing his arms. "Now why don't you leave this man alone?" He adds, waving an arm as if to shoo Carl away.

"Ha! Fine. Get saved like the princess you are. See you around Willy."

I watch Carl scoffs and head off to another section of the gym. I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding and turn towards my savior.

"That guy seems like a total dick." The stranger says. His expression softens and he extends a hand. "I'm Frank. Don't listen to anything that guy was saying. Anyone brave enough to better themselves without hurting others is good in my books."

I take his rough calloused hand in mine and shake it. "Thanks for that. I'm Will." I can feel Frank's raw strength through the handshake alone.

"Does that guy bother you often?" Frank asks.

"Carl? Pretty much every time I see him," I say, nodding my head. "Although, I bet if I looked half as tough as you he'd leave me alone."

"Maybe, but I'd like to believe that you'd be able to handle it yourself if you stand your ground. Most gymrat bullies can't handle confrontation."

"I... I guess I get what your saying. Still, I'd gladly trade a bit of this fat and trade it for some muscle." I say, grabbing my stomach and jiggling it a bit.

"If that's how you feel then you better start getting serious about working out." Frank says decisively.

I hang my head slightly.

"Could- would you- can-" I struggle to find the courage to ask for help. I take a deep breath, look Frank straight in the eyes, and try again. "Would you mind partnering with for the rest of my workout? I could really use the encouragement and I'm a bit afraid Carl will come back."

Frank responds with a single nod and says, "Don't expect me to go easy on you though."

I spend the next hour going through the hardest workout of my life. Thanks to Frank's frequent words of confidence I make it through without giving up. Between sets Frank and I get to know each other a bit more. Frank is apparently transitioning from being a full-time strongman to a first time bodybuilder.

"Lifting heavy stuff is fun and all, but I want to see what I can really look like, y'know?" Frank explains passionately.

I only somewhat understand what he's talking about, but the amount of emotion he displays on the subject really cements his desires to me. I eventually reach the end of my workout and thank Frank.

"Honestly Frank, thank you. You're really inspiring me to do my best." I say. The words keep spewing out of my mouth. "I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true."

"Don't worry about it," He says with a shrug. "I just moved to town a few days ago, so having someone to talk to is nice. Actually, why don't we exchange numbers? If you ever want to workout together again, give me a call."

I agree and we swap info.

"I've got a bit to go for my own workout, so I guess I'll see you later." Frank smiles and offers a fist which I gladly bump with my own. He then heads back through the gym as I turn towards the lockers.

At my locker I grab my towel and walk towards the showers. The showers are my least favorite part of the gym. The showers are completely open with little to no privacy for the patrons, not that most people seem to care. This is, however, just another reason I like to come early to the gym. Usually, by the time I'm done my workout the majority of people have just begun theirs, leaving the showers free. Today however, it seems like I went a bit over my usual time working out with Frank. Men are lined under the shower heads on the walls leaving only the standalone shower-towers in the center. I get undressed and hang my clothes and towel on a nearby rack.

I try to soap up and clean off as quickly as I can, but I notice someone behind me getting undressed. A tanned and heavily muscled body walks into my view and stops at the shower station next to mine.

"Fancy meeting you here Willy."

Fuck.

I try to ignore the fact that Carl is standing in the nude beside me and I say nothing. Instead, I just continue to wash off.

"What? Speechless over my perfect body?" Carl says, attempting to goad me into making a reaction. He flexes his arms and bounces his pecs slightly, taunting me.

Carl begins soaping himself up. I peer over at him at just the wrong time to see him soaping up his dick. He sees me look over at him.

"Oh, you like this?" He says quiet enough for only me to hear. Discreetly, he grabs his dick and waves it at me. I can't help myself and look directly at it. It's big, at least nine inches and thick too. "And this is just when it's soft."

I quickly jerk my eyes away. I can feel my cheeks grow hot from embarrassment. I can't believe I just checked out another man's junk. I sense Carl move closer towards me and I feel a small flare of pain on my dick.

"Ow, shit!" I yelp, bending over in pain. He just flicked my dick! A few men turn to see what the cause of the exclamation was.

"Nothing to see here folks, just keep moving" Carl attempts his best cop impression and turns back to me. In a quiet voice once again, he says, "Is that all of little Willy? No wonder you were staring, mines at least double the size!" Carl laughs.

I'd like to say I'm a grower, but that would be a lie. I'm four inches on a good day, with maybe an added half inch hard. Carl's comments finally become too much for me to contain.

"If I could add half the size of that dick and didn't have some of this excess weight I'd probably not be in this mess." I whisper under my breath. I begin mentally preparing myself for some quick retorts.

"What'd you just say?" Carl asks. He heard me, but not the words I said. I immediately regret saying anything.

"Nothing," I murmur. Sorry Frank, maybe I'll stand up for myself next time.

Before Carl can press me further, I finish my shower, grab my things and speed walk back to my locker. I hastily get changed, but before leaving I go to one of the weighing scales. It's become a sort of end of workout ritual for me to weigh myself. It's a number I can grasp that directly corresponds with my progress. When I last checked I was at 221 pounds. I stepped on the scale. 223. Dammit! I gained two pounds. I guess I really do need to lay off the beers and junk food a bit harder.

Disheartened by my encounters with Carl and learning I gained a few pounds, I slinked to my car and headed home.

On my way home I stopped at the supermarket to get groceries. I made a conscious effort to get healthier food, but couldn't stop myself from grabbing a few beers as well.

Once I made it home, I could feel the effects of my workout with Frank. I was sore all over and didn't want to move any more. After I put my groceries away, I sink into the couch in front of my TV and took out my cellphone. I scrolled through my contacts. Seeing Tom and Frank's numbers I smiled. I may not be doing great with my health goals but at least I seem to be on a roll making some new friends.

I try to phone Tom once again, but still there's no response. This time I leave a message for him to call me back.

I scratch my beard. I'm still not used to the sensation.

Not wanting to move, I wasted the rest of the day watching dumb reality shows and competitive cooking, anything to distract from my aching muscles. Eventually I got too tired to get up from the couch and go to my bed and instead fell asleep sitting there.

That night I had more strange dreams. The first thing I could recall was Frank smiling at me. The next was Carl standing in front of me buck naked.

I awoke with a groan. I wasn't feeling as sore as before my sleeping position surely hadn't helped. I felt somewhat bloated but it didn't feel bad. My shirt also felt a bit loose, but maybe that was just because I stretched it by wearing it overnight. I stood up and nearly stumbled forward. My center of balance felt off, I felt lighter than normal. I walked to my washroom where had a mini electric weight scale.

Maybe I dehydrated myself last night and lost a bit of water weight or something, I think to myself as I step on the scale. The numbers take a second to calculate but when the result finally shows I'm shocked. 211 pounds. That can't be right, I couldn't have lost 12 pounds overnight. Sure my workout was intense, but this isn't possible. I hop off the scale and lift my shirt only to be shocked once more.

My beer belly, which was very prominent yesterday was now just a small hint of fat. Not only that, but my abs were protruding slightly. I didn't just lose weight, I gained muscle.

The thought of getting my athletic build back was kind of arousing and my dick began to wake itself up. my crotch felt oddly crowded and when I looked down to inspect it I was greeted by an unfamiliar bulge. Not sure if I could take any more shock, I slowly began to pull my pants down.

I gasped, something I seem to be doing a lot of lately. Peering into my pants I could already tell my dick was much bigger than usual. I push my pants the rest of the way and out flops and unfamiliar sight attached to my body, a long and thick dick. A quick estimate puts it at roughly eight inches. Another impossibility. People don't just grow four inches of dick! I shove my newly large member back into my pants and head back to my living room. I begin pacing back and forth trying to recall recent events that could have brought these changes on.

My mind races until I remember the words I said to Tom two days ago, "I would absolutely trade my head of hair for that beard." After that was when I had those dreams of him and woke up bald and with a beard that looked just like his. Suddenly the pieces in my mind began to click together. Could what I'm saying be coming true? I suddenly recall similar interactions with both Frank and Carl. I had strange dreams of them too. It had to be connected!

There was only one way to find out. I had nothing else to do today so a little experimenting could fit right into my schedule!

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