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Contract Law (Complete Story 5/4/20; Bonus Material Added 5/15/20)


TQuintA

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Chapter 12

            The next morning at work, I dressed in my husband’s clothes.  The only work-appropriate clothes he’d left behind were some of the business outfits he’d bought at his heaviest—around 220.  So, they were still too large for me even though I was bigger than Oz was currently.  I wasn’t swimming in them, though.  On the contrary, my chest made a nice impression, and the fabric draped around my narrow waist.  His shoes were a little too big for me because Oz’s feet are a little too big for his height.  Just a little, but you could notice it when he went around barefoot.  I wasn’t complaining about the footwear; I preferred shoes that were too big to too small. 

            I was worried I looked like a clown, but Mo assured me I just looked like I could only afford to shop at the Goodwill. 

            All that morning, I hid in my office.  I didn’t like that it was potentially bugged, but I had to stay away from the men outside my office.  I had never noticed just how many tasty men worked in my office, and now I was noticing them all.  The twinks in IT, the daddies in upper management, the rough trade in the accounting department.  Anything even vaguely male was turning my head it seems.  Before I decided to hide, I must have leered a bit too intensely at two of the cuter interns.  They made hasty exits with terrified looks on their faces.  I was a horny menace, and I had to put a door between me and temptations.

            In the last 24 hours, I had masturbated a grand total of eight times, and I was still humming with a sexual edge.  I hoped it was just the spell and not my new everyday—I couldn’t handle being this amped all the time. 

            I spent the morning playing catch up again.  I hadn’t lied when I told Mo my workload was kind of light.  I was supposed to be prepping for my meeting with Vernon the next day, which meant I had delegated the day-to-day tasks last week.  The remainder was largely supervisory, so I had a small mountain of forms to sign, double-checking that everyone was still following their timetables and budgets.  Of course, this gave me plenty of time to feel how my enlarged ass filled my desk chair and how the muscles of my arms bunched and danced as I wrote my signature.  By 11:30, I had almost completely caught back up.

            It was almost noon on Tuesday.  My turn to call Oz.

            I locked the door to my office and lowered the blind to get as much privacy as possible.  Normally, these calls were the highlight of my week.  But today, I felt like I was sneaking behind enemy lines.

            A ring or two, and then Oz answered.  “Good afternoon, Ian.  You’re early.”

            “Good evening, Oz,” I responded.  “I couldn’t wait.”

            “I miss you,” Oz cooed.  I melted a little.  He was still Oz.

            “I miss you too,” I admitted.  “It’s only ten days until you get home.”

            “That’s only 240 hours.”

            “That’s sounds harder.”

            “That’s only 14,400 minutes,” Oz said.

            “It can’t be that many!” I protested.

            “It is.  I used a calculator.”

            “Let’s go back to saying ten days.  So much fewer.  Ten sounds doable.”

            “You sound doable,” Oz said, a ribald flair in his voice.

            “Oh, you charmer,” I replied, a hair sarcastically.  Oz knew I liked the cheesy lines, but I had to play a little hard to get to keep the romance alive.

            “You enjoying Cayden’s visit?” Oz asked.

            “We spent the weekend in, just the two of us.”

            “Sounds sweet.  Brotherly.”

            “Yeah.  We’ve really had some intense bonding.”

            I could hear Mo crunching in the background.

            “And what are you eating that’s making so much noise?” I asked.

            “It’s definitely a hearty kale salad,” Oz said.  “It couldn’t possibly be made of pork and deep fried.”

            “As long as there’s a salad somewhere in there,” I teased.

            “Yes, dear,” he said, laughing slightly.

            “What have you been doing to occupy yourself in your off hours?”

            “What off hours?” he asked earnestly.  “I’m going to be home on the 10th come hell or high water, I promise.  But, the closer we get to my departure, it seems like a million tiny details become my responsibility.  Sometimes, I feel like I’m being asked to make a tapestry out of clay.”

            “Sounds vexing.”

            “That’s not the half of it.  These past few days, I’ve been having trouble sleeping without you.”

            “That’s sweet,” I said.

            “Then I said it wrong.  I can’t sleep without your touch, your smell, your taste.  I crave it.”

            That made my cock wake up.  Oz was going to have to cool his jets, or this would turn into phone sex, and I knew his opinion of that.  He’d already come far closer to the line than I’d ever heard him do.

            “The only way I’ve been able to get any sleep,” he started to explain, but then he stopped dead.  “No.  It’s too embarrassing.”

            “We’ve been married for almost half my life,” I reminded him.  “I’ve seen you cry, I’ve seen you sick and vomiting, I’ve seen you with a terrible haircut.  What’s left that could be embarrassing?”

            Oz sighed, and reluctantly admitted, “I took one of your pajama shirts with me.  I put it on a pillow and spoon it like a teddy bear.”  After a pause, he added, “I really miss you, Ian.  It’s been hell.”

            Thank god he went heartwarming instead of dirty.  I was able to keep my equanimity, and it restored my faith in Oz.  Whoever had done this to me, it couldn’t be Oz.  He wasn’t this good of an actor.  If he was setting me up for a divorce, why would he tell me this story?

            “It’s been hell for me too.  I actually started wearing your clothes to work.”

            Oz laughed.  “You in my clothes?  To work?  Oh, send me a pic.  You must look like a kid playing dress-up in daddy’s clothes.”

            I looked down at my burgeoning musculature and flexed my arm.  When it was fully flexed, I filled the sleeve.  “You’d be surprised how well I fill them.”  I was turning myself on again.

            “Yeah, I know.  You’ve been working out.  But it’s been six months, not six years.”

            “Actually, I…”

            The phone went dead.  Not just dead—the phone stopped working altogether.  My phone wouldn’t turn on or off.  From my work computer, I quickly sent Oz an email explaining what had happened.  He asked if I wanted to finish our call over Skype.  I figured he might as well see me in all my glory.  I dialed in his number on my work computer.  The line made that hollow ringing noise.  The second Oz answered, though—the absolute second—my computer died too.

            That couldn’t be a coincidence.  My technology cutting out on me like this?  It had to be…

            “Quincy,” I said out loud.  I picked up my desk phone.  That was still working properly.  I called IT and told them what happened and specifically requested Quincy, even if it meant I had to wait longer.  I unlocked my door and waited behind my desk, fuming.  I promised myself I wouldn’t throttle the little twerp even though he was spying on me.

            Not even five minutes later, Quincy came into my office.  He was dressed almost exactly like he was on Friday, except his polo was green this time.  He had a blush in his cheeks, looking extremely flummoxed.  Now that I saw him standing up, I saw just how short the boy actually was—with my new stature, I easily was a whole foot taller than him, perhaps more.  He looked utterly pathetic.  My anger vanished, replaced by intrigue at just how much I outclassed this little thing before me.

            Quincy closed the door behind him, and without looking up, he started talking. “Good afternoon, Mr. Myers.  They told me you were having problems with your work computer and your personal phone.  I’ll fix the computer for you right quick.  That I can do, no problem.  It’s why they pay me.  Well, they don’t use money, but I suppose class credit still counts as payment.  But according to the regulations of the company, I’m not legally allowed to help you with your phone.  I don’t know why the regulation is in place, and I have absolutely no problem breaking that rule, but I wanted you to know that it is, in fact, against the rules.”

            My god, he could talk a blue streak.  The poor creature was terrified of me.

            “Breathe,” I told him.  “Just breathe.”

            Quincy began breathing deeply.  He still had not looked up.

            “Are you afraid to look at me?” I asked, unable to hide the glee in my voice.

            “The last time I saw you, you caught me watching you in the bathroom.  I saw everything.  Everything.  And then, yesterday, your brother caught me outside the bathroom listening to you.  At least, I think it was your brother.  He looked an awful lot like you.  Then today, less than 24 hours later, you request me by name to come to your personal office.  No one has ever requested me by name before.  I don’t even think anyone at the company knows my name.  I don’t think the guy who signs my timecard for my internship knows my name.  So, for you, the hottest guy at the office who I’ve twice spied on, to know my name.  Well, something’s not normal.  I think your computer and phone are working just fine, and this is some kind of trap.”  He closed his eyes, and it looked like he physically shrunk.  “Is this about the surveillance equipment?”

            “You have been putting up cameras in my office?” I growled.

            His eyes still closed, Quincy nodded.  Quietly, he squeaked, “Just one camera.  And a mic.”

            I tamped down my anger.  I wasn’t going to get anywhere with that tactic.  Calmly, smoothly, in an almost buttery voice, I asked, “Why?”

            “Someone paid me to film you.”

            “Me?”

            Quincy opened his eyes and looked down at the floor.  “Yes.  You.  And only you.  And they were very specific about that.  If I accidentally caught other people doing things they weren’t supposed to, I was to delete that material immediately.  The whole point was to capture you, so I put a camera and a mic in your office.  And before you ask, no, I don’t know who wanted the footage.  I was hired anonymously via a physical letter given to me by one of the temps in the mailroom.  Last week.  The letter said that I would be paid handsomely.  And I really need the money.  So, I agreed.  I haven’t seen one cent.”

            “Where are they?” I asked, continuing to placate him.

            He pointed to my stapler and quietly said, “Mic.”  Then he pointed to a painting hanging on my wall.  It had always been there, even before the office was mine.  It was the bland sort of inoffensive non-art found in most modern office buildings: a swirling path of colors.

            “The camera’s masked by the painting.  I moved it up two or three inches so the footage wouldn’t cut off your head when you were standing.”  He almost sounded proud.

            Ignoring that, I continued my questioning.  “What have you got of me so far?”

            “Everything,” Quincy admitted.  “You playing with yourself is the hottest thing I have ever seen.  You are a gorgeous man.  Please don’t hurt me.  Or have me fired.”

            Reflexively, I clenched my fist and tensed my bicep.  But hurting him would accomplish nothing.  Relaxing my arm, I asked, “Do you have a way of contacting the person who hired you?”

            Quincy shook his head.  “I’m supposed to hold all the footage, save it to a flash drive, and leave it on my desk on Friday during my lunch break.  If the footage was any good, my bank account would automatically receive the money.  I know it is extremely shady, and I know that what I did was illegal, but I’ve been worked ragged by this company, and they haven’t been paying me, and I…” Quincy was about to cry.  He was completely at my mercy.  Completely.  I had never felt so powerful in my life.  Instead of anger, I felt… intoxicated.

            “Don’t cry,” I said, doing my best to suppress the power trip I was feeling.

            “Don’t be kind,” he retorted.  “I couldn’t take it if you were kind to me after I filmed you half-naked and playing with yourself.”

            I could get this boy to do anything for me.  “You confessed before you gave the footage to anyone.  Besides, I think I’m going to need you to be extra brave.”  Quincy seemed confused, so I elaborated.  “The person who hired you has recently been doing a lot of bad things to me, and I’m trying to figure out who it is.  So, for now, I want you to make it look like you’re still spying on me.  In fact, keep spying on me.  I want the footage.  Then, leave an empty flash drive on your desk on Friday.  And if you receive any more letters from your employer, tell me about them.”

            Quincy nodded.

            “Now,” I said, vacating my chair and moving to the side, “my computer and phone are honesty not working.  I need you to come over here and fix them.”

            He complied, and silently came behind my desk.  As he began to work on my computer, I realized that with how close he was, I could touch him, see his sexual fantasy, and maybe learn some info about his mysterious employer myself.  I figured now was as good a time as any.  I was still aroused from my talk with Oz, but how tempting would this little twerp’s fantasy actually be?

            Before I could change my mind, I touched the back of his neck.

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"....  I had torn through my clothes, I had cum all down my leg (I could even feel it pooling in my sock), and I had no way of contacting anyone because my phone and computer were dead."

 

D-mn! Mondays in the office are just a b-tch, aren't they?!

Terrific growth scenes! 

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