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

[dredlifter]

So good.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 14

            As I stood there, uncertain what to do, there was a knock on the door.

            I turned around and looked through the window.  It was Quincy.  He held up a spare laptop and gestured for me to unlock the door.  I opened it, and he marched in, looking squarely at the floor.   He placed the laptop on my desk, pulled my cell phone out of his pocket, and placed it on the laptop.  “You should have your computer back by the end of the week.  This should last you until then.  If that’s too long, I’d bring in a laptop from home.  These loaners are absolutely terrible.  As for the phone, you should contact your phone provider and get a new one.  The one you gave me is shot.  Have a funeral and bury it.  It’s dead.”  With that, Quincy left the room.  He had never looked at me the entire time.

            I quickly booted the laptop to check my email.  There was one from Oz asking what had happened, but I put that to the side.

            I emailed Mo, filling him in and asking if he could swing by some store and pick me up bigger clothes.  I knew I could get to my car without being noticed, but the outside world would stare at the nearly naked muscleman with a huge jizz stain running down the length of his torn pants.

            Mo let me know that he was already out of the building, on his way back from a meeting with Mr. Tyler.  If I could hang tight, he’d be happy to get clothes for me.

            With that sorted, I constructed an email to Oz, letting him know that both my laptop and phone had died and that I was using a loaner laptop at work and needed a new phone.  His sympathetic response was touching, but I could internally hear Oz laughing all the way from Germany.

            All that was left to do was sit in my ruined clothes and wait for Mo.

            It was the most excruciating wait of my life, but Mo came back bearing gifts.  He’d apparently gone to Copley Place, and he had half a dozen bags with him.

            When I opened the door to let him in, he looked shocked.  “You said you’d gotten bigger, but you’ve seriously gotten swole, Eenie.”

            I flexed my arm and held it close to his face.  “You think so?”

            Mo put down the bags and closed my door behind him, pulling down the curtain so I could dress unobserved.  Out of one of the bags, he produced a bathroom scale.  “Let’s see just how big you’ve gotten.”

            I stripped naked and stepped on the scale.  It hovered around 240.

            “Another 30 pounds,” Mo said.  “And you should see your back.  You know how serious bodybuilders have backs that look like ski slopes?”  After a pause, he added, “Of course you do.  I checked your Pornhub search history.”

            I was unsurprised Mo had looked through my porn.  He’d been doing that since high school.  “My back has that look?  That anatomy chart look?”

            Mo just nodded and tossed me a box of baby wipes.  “Now clean yourself up, you dirty, dirty bird.”

            I was relieved to clean the length of my leg and my foot, and especially my cock.

            “What clothes did you get me?”  I asked.

            Mo produced a pair of socks from a bag and threw them at me.  “Just what you’ve always wanted.  Socks.”

            “Very droll,” I added.  “And?”

            From the same bag, Mo brough out some boxer briefs for me.  “This should keep your cock under wraps.  As for your clothes, I didn’t know just how big you’d gotten, so I got some stuff in various sizes.”  He handed me the second bag in.  “These should fit you just fine.  I got some bigger ones too, just in case, but they’re in your car.”

            I put on the boxer briefs and a pair of grey dress slacks.  They hugged my ass and thighs, but they fit well enough that I could sit down without exploding.  The waist was a little big for me, but I think that was going to be the new normal.

            “I avoided buying shirts with buttons,” Mo said.  “Until this spell ends, they would all end up as shrapnel.  The employee dress code, which HR read me at length, allows its managers to wear turtlenecks so long as they are business formal.  I think they’re going to be your best friends until the spell ends.”

            I pulled down a deep maroon turtleneck.  It stretched to accentuate the size and definition of my shoulders, biceps, pecs, and neck, but it tapered down to my waist.

            “I got you a dozen sizes and colors,” Mo bragged.

            Now that I was dressed, I sat down at my desk.  The wheels shifted suddenly to the side—I’d sat down with too much force, unaccustomed to my new mass.

            Mo reached into one of the bags and pulled out a box containing a new cell phone.  From across the room, he tossed it to me.

            “How’d you get this?” I asked.

            “I said I was you.  And that I dropped my phone in the toilet.  They don’t ask questions after that.  You were due for an upgrade, anyways.”  Mo sat down opposite me in my visitor’s chair.  “I’ve been running around all morning.”

            “How was Mr. Tyler?” I asked.

            “Sick.  He actually has full on pneumonia, and the nurse who was tending him said it got so bad because he ignored it for so long.”

            “Huh” I said.  “So, is he off our list of suspects?”

            “Mostly, yes,” Mo said.  “I asked him about that strange budget code that was used to hire the porn star and the bodybuilder, and he said it was one of a dozen or so codes that indicated that the money came from a discretionary fund.”

            “What does that even mean?”

            “The money came from outside the company.  Whoever paid to hire the porn star and the bodybuilder likely also paid to have the spell cast.  As far as I’m concerned, this is the first concrete evidence that Austin’s innocent.”

            “How’s that?”

            “Whoever paid for these two to be hired gives money to the company often enough to need their own budget code.”

            “Did you look up the budget codes to find out who they belong to?”

            Mo shook his head.  “I tried to.  Discretionary budget codes are confidential.  The only people who would know them are a nearly impenetrable computer database and the investor themselves.”

            “Vernon.”

            “That’s what I thought immediately.”

            “So, Vernon had Mr. Tyler hire these people?”

            “Hugo claims to have no memory of hiring either of these people.”

            “Do you believe him?”

            “He said this in between fits of hacking coughs.  This was not a man who was concerned about upholding a malediction.”

            “Do you think Vernon is the one who got Quincy to spy on me too?”

            Mo got up and went over to the framed picture, and pulled it off the wall.  True enough, there was a camera behind it.  Right next to the camera was the old nail hole two inches lower from before Quincy raised the painting three inches up.  Quincy had been completely forthcoming.

            “That is odd,” Mo said under his breath, putting the painting back.

            “What is?”

            “Quincy’s involvement in general.  The contractor had it built into the spell that your coworkers wouldn’t notice your transformations, and then had someone secretly film the whole thing.  That feels like opposite goals, doesn’t it?  What’s the endgame?”

            As Mo stood there, thinking, my door opened, and without announcing himself, someone came in.  I recognized him from the employee file Mo had shown me.  It was Izaiah Bernal.  The man was about six feet tall, and seriously ripped.  He had close-shorn brown hair and deep brown eyes that sparkled innocently.  But his crooked smile and cocky swagger belied that innocence.  Mo smiled meekly, and I stood up, cock first.  The man radiated such strength that I was practically at full mast just seeing him walk into a room.  Whoever hired him knew how to hire a temptation.

            Then I realized, even from across the room, not only was I five inches taller than him, but I was bigger than him everywhere.  I diminished that wall of muscle.

            “Sorry for crashing,” he said.  His ill-fitting button-down was clearly purchased before he’d reached his current size.  “I’m Izzy.  Temp.  Mailroom.”

            “Hello, Izzy,” Mo said, a lascivious note in his voice.

            “Hey.”  Izzy scanned Mo up and down, practically licking my brother with his eyes.  “’Sup?”  Then, he turned to me and said, “Your door was closed, but I got mail for you.  Looked important.  Do I just…”  He trailed off.

            “Bring it in, Izzy,” I said.  Izzy ducked out of the office and came back in with an armful of envelopes.  “Just put it here,” I pointed to my desk.

            Once he’d put down my mail, he looked at me and admired my arms.  “Happy to see some other big guys at this company.”  He flexed his right pec, and it threatened to rip open his shirt.

            Mo grabbed a receipt from one of his shopping bags and scribbled something down on the back of it.  “Are you busy on Friday, Izzy?”

            “Yeah,” he sounded disappointed.  “Free Saturday.”

            “Excellent,” Mo said, handing him the receipt.  “We’re having a party on Saturday night.  Come on by.  This is the address.  My brother Ian would love to spend some one on one time with you.”

            “Sweet,” Izzy said as he left the room.  His ass canted back and forth as he walked—he was swaying his hips on purpose to draw attention to his powerful hind quarters.  It worked; neither Mo nor I could look away.

            When Izzy closed the door behind him, I asked, “Did you really give him my address?”

            “Of course.  We need to drill him for information about who hired him.  And, if I get to actually drill him afterwards, that’ll just be a plus.”

            “He did seem ready to jump us both,” I acknowledged.  I sat back down and crossed my legs, trying to hide my erection.  “And if he stayed in here much longer, I just might have jumped him.”

            “Geronimo,” Mo said.

            “That might be why there’s a camera,” I said, redirecting the conversation.

            “I don’t follow,” Mo replied.  He was obviously still thinking about drilling Izzy.

            “If they’re trying to ruin my marriage, don’t they want evidence?  Evidence that I cheated.  Catch me in the act.”

            “And then they hired two people you were likely to cheat on your husband with.  I guess that could work.”

            “Which might explain why Vernon wants me to meet with him offsite.  Someplace with no cameras.  If I sleep with him, he can stay safely in the closet.”

            Mo returned to my visitor’s chair.  He looked like he was going to say something, when there was a knock at the door.

            “Come in,” I said.

            Quickly and efficiently, Alexander came into the room and closed the door behind him.  “Ian.  Hey.  There’s a rumor circling about you, and I had to see if it was true.”

            “Oh?” I asked, genuinely curious.

            “Are you sleeping with Vernon Bailey?”

            I shook my head.  “No.  No, I’m not.”

            Alexander looked relieved.  “Good.  ‘Cause it’s all over the office.  Apparently, the two of you were getting quite cozy in the parking garage yesterday.  And now people are saying you’re meeting at a hotel for your meeting tomorrow.  What with Oz being abroad, people are talking.”

            “Vernon snuck up on me in the parking garage,” I said.  “And we’re meeting at a restaurant at a hotel tomorrow.  I’ve taken dozens of clients out for lunch, including female ones.”

            “So, I should squash the rumor?”

            “If you need some juicy gossip,” Mo suggested, “supposedly the company hired a bodybuilder and a porn star to work in the mailroom.”

            “Really?” Alexander said.

            “Really,” I confirmed.  “But you didn’t hear it from us.”

            “Thanks, Cayden,” Alexander said.  Suddenly, Alexander looked incredibly nervous.  “Are we still on for tonight, Ian?”

            “What about tonight?”

            “I was supposed to come over and watch something gay and trashy on Netflix with you.  After you got out of the gym, of course.”

            I had made those plans so long ago, it felt like a different person had made them.  I had completely forgotten.

            “I didn’t know Mo would still be here when I made those plans.” I said honestly.

            “Cayden’s welcome to join,” Alexander said.

            “Gay and trashy?” Mo said.  “My two favorite adjectives.  Color me invited.”

            Alexander scurried away, pleased with himself.

            “He would have been more than happy to reschedule,” I said after Alexander left.

            “But you still need to see his fantasy.  And where better to do that than in the comfort of your own home?”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 15

            The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful.  That was, of course, until Mo and I drove home.  Even just approaching my little blue car, it looked laughably small.  I got to the door and just stood there.  Mo did too.

            “Aren’t you going to get in?” I asked him.

            “After you.  I want to make sure there’s room for me first.”

            With an exasperated grunt, I opened the door.  When I got in, the door didn’t want to close.  I had to turn to the side to get my car door to close.  That task accomplished, I realized my legs were pressed tightly together, and the brawn of my ass was pushing me forward, ramming my bulge uncomfortably into the wheel.  I hadn’t gotten any taller, but I had to move my seat back just to accommodate my ass.  When I buckled my seatbelt, the fabric of the belt landed in the canyon between my pecs, separating them further, making them look bigger.  If I got any more muscular, I wasn’t going to fit into my own car.

            “You can get in now, Mo,” I told him.

            “Can I?” he asked comically.  “I mean, I’m a pretty big fellow myself.  I’m no Ian Myers, but I’ve got some heft on me.”

            “Just get in.”

            When Mo sat next to me, my shoulder pressed into his.  I could swear I heard Mo let out a sigh of relief.  Then it hit me: the entire time he was helping me get dressed in my office, Mo had never touched me.  Not once.  No hugs, tickles, punches—nothing.  Had he been scared to touch me? 

            I laughed to myself and started the car.  Neither of us really had any room, but I had just enough space to steer.

            “Intimate,” he said.  “When Oz gets home, make sure to drive him somewhere.  Anywhere.  He’ll pop his cork before you get down the street.”

            “Very funny.”

            We drove home, made dinner, and started to get ready for Alexander’s visit.  At the last minute, Mo decided he had to shower and change into something comfy.  To his logic, this was a casual hangout, not a proper date.

            No sooner was he in the shower then Alexander showed up.  

            I had just put out a bowl of popcorn in a big red ceramic monstrosity that looked like it belonged in a 1950s issue of Good Housekeeping.  If we’re going campy, we’re going all the way.

            “I brought wine that goes great with snack food,” Alexander said, holding up a bottle of red wine.  Having been raised in the lap of luxury, Alexander always brought the best wines to hang-outs, and I’d long ago learned to trust his choices.

            Alexander planted himself on the couch while I went to get some glasses.  “Any idea what you want to watch?” I asked from the kitchen.

            “Something with no more than a 30% approval rating.”

            “Sounds perfect,” I said, returning with the glasses.  Normally, I would just sit right down next to Alexander—sometimes we’d even cuddle while watching movies.  Not tonight.  I sat on the armchair opposite the couch.

            “What sort of movies does Cayden like?” Alexander asked.  There may have been a leading tone, but it was equally likely I imagined it.

            “He might say 30% is a bit too high of a rating.”

            Mo walked in with a towel around his waist, his buff, hairless torso completely exposed, and his hair still dripping.  He was red and glowing from the shower.  “I only like things that are godawful crap or sublime art.”

            “Got it,” Alexander said, averting his eyes.

            “I’ll just be a second,” Mo said, running to go get changed.

            “If you’re wondering,” I said, “yes, he was flirting with you just then.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Good to know,” Alexander said.

            Mo came back out dressed in a tight sweatshirt and pajama pants.  “Let’s get this shit-fest started!” he shouted, taking my usual seat next to Alexander on the couch.

            While the movie was playing, Alexander held the bowl of popcorn in his lap.  Mo would occasionally reach over and grab a handful suggestively, and then eat the kernels one by one, only to repeat the move a few moments later.  Each time, he scooted just a bit closer to Alexander until, eventually, his legs and Alexander’s were intertwined and Mo had his arm around Alexander’s shoulders.

            After the first movie ended, a gloriously debauched gay slasher film, we were in the mood for something funnier.

            Scrolling through the suggestions, Alexander asked, “So, Cayden, I know you’re only at C&G for a week or so.  Where do you normally work?”

            “An international law firm,” he said.  “I could tell you its name, but I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

            “Cool.  What do you know about estate law?”

            “Enough.  Why?  You making a will?”

            Alexander nodded vaguely.  “Something like that.”

            “Well, if you have any questions, I’d be more than happy to answer.”

            Alexander turned to Mo and said bluntly, “If I asked the question I really wanted to ask, you’d think I was proposing to you.”

            “Let’s see how tonight goes first,” Mo joked.

            Obviously a little embarrassed, Alexander offered me the bowl of popcorn.  “You haven’t had any all night,” he insisted.

            I hesitated, looking at Mo.  Surreptitiously, Mo nodded, encouraging me to go for it.  I reached into the bowl, intentionally grazing Alexander’s hand.

            “Get out of here, Mo,” I said, and Mo complied.

            Alexander put the bowl of popcorn to the side, and began slipping out of his clothes.  I stood there stolidly, watching him disrobe, revealing his creamy skin, his pink nipples, his appreciative cock.  When he’d finished stripping himself, he stripped me.  I put up no resistance, but I gave him no help.  I was so much taller than him, he had to jump to get my shirt off.

            Once we were both completely naked, he led me to the couch, and we curled up under the same blanket.  He rested his head on my chest, and I held him close.  It felt so safe, so cozy.  My hand lightly gripped his cock, and he already was so close to orgasm.  I squeezed his cock just a little, and he let out a high-pitched squeaking noise, almost mouse-like, and then my hand was wet with his cum.

            As soon as he had reached his climax, I felt his hand slowly trace down my hairy abs, gently fluffing the hair and playing with my muscular midsection.

            I bent over and kissed him on the forehead, and his hand continued its journey down my body.

            When it hit my cock, I was surprised just how warm Alexander’s hand was.  He slowly stroked my cock, up and down, and it responded by lazily thickening and hardening.

            I leaned over a little further, tilting his head up with the arm I had around his shoulder, and began kissing him softly and sweetly on the lips. 

            His grip on my cock tightened, and suddenly my cock was at full mast.  Alexander ran his hand all the way down its length, stroked the top with just two fingers, then ran his hand all the way back up.  Every now and again, he tugged at my balls, just hard enough that it was on the pleasurable side of pain.  The whole time, we never stopped kissing.

            As I drew closer to climax, his speed picked up.

            At the same time, though, I heard a noise coming from the far side of the apartment.  I stopped kissing so I could look up.

            Into the living room walked Mo, completely naked, his 8-inch cock fully hard.  He sauntered across the room and sat down on the couch behind Alexander.  As soon as he was under the blanket with us, he guided his cock into Alexander and began to slowly thrust in and out.  At the same time, he was kissing the back of Alexander’s neck, his hands slowly sliding down until they enveloped Alexander’s cock.

            Mo’s hands were too large to both fit on Alexander’s cock, a pert 5.5 inches, so one reached across Alexander’s lap until it found my cock, gently caressing the tip, and then…

            The popcorn bowl tumbled to the floor, shattering.  Mo was on the couch, dressed.  Alexander was dressed.  I was dressed.  None of it had happened, but my cock was humming as though it had.  I withdrew my hand from Alexander’s so quickly that I had knocked the popcorn bowl clear out of his hand.

            “Sorry,” I said.  I dropped to the floor and began picking up my mess, my ass and erection pulling my pants in two separate directions as I bent.  The base of the bowl was still mostly intact, so I used it to hold the ceramic shards and stray kernels.

            “I loved that bowl,” Alexander said despondently.

            “I’ve got two more just like it.  One blue, one yellow.”

            “I’m sure it was my fault,” Alexander said.

            “It really wasn’t,” I said.  “Mo, could you come into the kitchen and help me make a fresh bowl?”  With that, I was carrying the broken bowl into the kitchen.

            “Sure thing,” Mo answered, extricating himself from Alexander’s embrace.

            I put a new serving of kernels in the air popper, and as soon as I turned it on, it made enough noise that Mo and I could talk without Alexander hearing.

            “What up, Eenie?” Mo asked.  “Did you learn anything helpful?”

            “I doubt it.  But I didn’t finish watching his fantasy.”

            “What could have been so bad?”       

            “He wants a three-way with the two of us.”

            Mo smirked.  “That dirty little minx.”

            I put the yellow ceramic bowl in front of the popper to catch the popcorn.  “Don’t joke.  You don’t know how real these visions are.  I felt your hand on my cock.”

            Mo rolled his eyes and placed a hand on my arm.  “No vision, right?”

            I nodded.

            “That’s Alexander’s fantasy.  Not mine.”

            “You said these visions couldn’t lie to me.”

            Mo grunted.  “Fine.  If Alexander wanted to have a ménage a trois with the both of us, he could be Lucky Pierre.  But outside of that, I don’t want to fuck you, Eenie.”  After a moment, he added, so quietly I could have imagined it, “Not yet at least.”

            “Well,” I said, still reeling a little, “now I know what a handjob from Alexander would feel like.”

            “Was I good?” Mo asked.

            “That’s your question?  That is your question?”

            “So, he’s got a thing for brothers.  It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.  Don’t be such a prude.”

            “You said it was a possible future, Mo.”

            “One possible future.  Yes.  I didn’t say a likely future.”

            “Please.  You strutted around the apartment half-naked when Alexander showed up.  You want him bad.”

            “Guilty as charged.  But just because I want to fuck him does not mean you and I are getting it on, brother.”

            “You still plan on fucking him tonight?”

            “If he’s willing.”

            “He’s willing.  Oh, is he ever willing.  Go slow and romantic.”

            “Thanks for the tip.”

            I cringed a little.  “Don’t say ‘tip’ around me for a little bit.”  The popcorn was finished, so I turned off the popper.

            “I know you have lube in your nightstand.  But, do you and Austin have any spare condoms?” Mo asked.

            “We stopped using those when we got married,” I said.

            “I used my last condom on my Grindr date on Friday.  Where’s the nearest drugstore?”

            “It’s like three blocks that way,” I said, pointing east.

            Mo dashed into the living room.  “Hey, Alexander, I’m going to pop out to buy some condoms.  That cool with you?”

            Alexander nodded, suppressing a grin.

            “You want anything?” Mo asked.

            Alexander shook his head.

            When Mo left, I came back out into the living room and sat a safe arm’s distance away from Alexander on the couch.

            “You okay with us doing that here?” Alexander asked.

            “Better here than your shoebox apartment.”  I could still feel Alexander’s lips pressed against mine.  And part of me, a small but loud part of me, wanted to just pick him up and start kissing him.  It would be so easy to give in.  The whole thing was surreal.

            “You are too cool.  Both of you are.”

            “Because he’s willing to have sex at his brother’s apartment?”

            “Well, you know he hates Oz.”

            I knew it.  I knew it!  I blurted out, “I knew it!”

            “Yeah.  He told me at lunch yesterday,” Alexander said through a mouthful of popcorn.  “You didn’t hear it from me,” Alexander continued, leaning in, “but he wouldn’t have come to visit if Oz was here.  Cayden spent a good five minutes talking about how he wished you and Oz would get divorced.  He even said he’d help you get laid if that’s what you wanted.”

            My brother wanted me to cheat on Oz.  Well, fuck.

            “Excuse me,” I said, leaving Alexander alone in the living room.  It was only three minutes before Mo returned.  I hid in my bedroom and made myself scarce for a few hours.  I had to gather my thoughts.

[ToolShedCub]

Well there is a twist I didn't see coming!

[Valai]

Again with the brother doubt. It's been only 2 days for them so things could be messy. He'll probably lose interest in finding out who is doing it soon. Maybe tell Oz he misses him, be a bit vulnerable. Things have been happening and he just wishes Oz was here ?

[Mdlftr]

"My brother wanted me to cheat on Oz.  Well, fuck."

 

The plot thickens!! What is on Mo's mind?  Did he move into town to help the curse work? Hmmmm......

[TQuintA]

Chapter 16

            Around midnight, Alexander gathered his things and left.  Now that it was just Mo and me in the apartment, I knocked on the door to the guest room.

            “Back so soon, lover?” Mo called through the door.

            “It’s me, Mo,” I responded.

            “Let me get dressed, and then you can come on in.”  A minute later, the door opened, and I went into the guest room.

            “Have fun?”

            “Alexander is a sweetie.  If I were in town for longer, I could see myself dating that lovely little man.”

            I sat on the foot of the bed.  Mo joined me.

            “He told me what you two talked about at lunch yesterday.”

            “You’ll have to be more specific.  We talked about a million things yesterday.  I was trying to get all the office gossip.  And he is the fount of all tea.”

            “He told me that you hate Oz.”

            Mo looked confused.  “You knew that already.  Yeah, I lied about it.  Because I’m polite.  But, you had to know.”

            “He told me that you wanted me to get a divorce and would help me cheat on Oz.  And now I find myself under a spell that will likely result in both of those two things.  And my brother can do magic.”

            “Barely,” he said.  “I am barely magical.”

            “I only have your word for that.”

            “Come on, Eenie.  If I were good at it, I’d brag about it.  I’d rub it in your face.”

            That did sound like Mo.

            “And think about it.  If I was trying to get you to cheat on Austin, why would I explain to you the spell?  Why would I warn you about all the consequences of cheating on him?  Hell, why would I even have a spell on you at all?  And why would I make your coworkers blind to it?  And do you really think I’d cast a spell to make you bigger and hotter than me?  With my ego?”

            These were all good points.  I felt a little foolish for suspecting him.  But it didn’t answer all my questions.  I asked, “Then why did you tell him all that stuff about hating Oz and getting me to cheat on him?”

            “Gossip is like head.  You don’t get any until you give a little.”

            “So, it’s not true, then?”

            “I would’ve said anything to get Alexander to spill.  Hell, I told him I’m terrified of flightless birds.”

            I tilted my head inquisitively.  That was Mo’s most embarrassing fear.

            “They’re dinosaurs, Eenie.  I’m allowed to be scared of dinosaurs,” Mo said.

            “You’re scared of flightless birds.  That’s true.  You hate Oz.  That’s also true.  I’m guessing it’s all true.  You wish I’d divorce Oz and you’d help me cheat on him.”

            Mo didn’t want to answer that.

            “Tell me, or I kick you out,” I said flatly.

            Mo looked me square and the eyes and admitted, “I wish you’d never married him.”

            On some level, I’d always known it.  But hearing it out loud hurt.  That was a knife to the chest. 

            Mo continued.  “You were my gay Sherpa.  You helped me come out to mom and dad, you snuck me in to my first gay club, you got me condoms and lube, you took me out for breakfast when I popped my cherry.”

            “How did me marrying Oz change any of that?”

            “We were the Todd Brothers!” Mo seethed, shaking his hands in front of him for emphasis.  “Two hot gay brothers?  We were legendary.  Doors opened for us.  Lesser homos bowed down.”

            “That’s not how I remember it,” I shared.

            “It was such a short window,” Mo said.  “I came out when I was 16 and you were 18.  You started dating Austin when you were 19.  That’s one year.  That’s one year we got to be the Todd Brothers.  We never even legally went to a bar together, Eenie.”

            “Yeah, we have.”

            “After you became a boring married woman.  That’s entirely different.”

            “You wanted me to be your wingman?  Is that what his is?”

            “You’re not even a Todd anymore,” Mo said.  “You’re Ian Myers.  Austin owns you.  He bought you when you were twenty, and you don’t even know it.”

            “Oz loves me.  I’m sorry if you can’t see it, but Oz loves me.”

            “He loves you so much he paid someone to put a malediction on you.”

            “We don’t know that for certain.”

            “I admit some weird stuff is going down at your office, but I’m just following every dead end so you’ll accept the truth when I prove it’s Austin.”

            “If you don’t trust him, why not search his office?” I said, pointing to the door.

            “I’ve already done that.  Three times.  Anything incriminating is likely with him in Germany.”

            “How do I know you’re not framing Oz?”

            “If I were going to put a malediction on you,” Mo confessed, “you’d have left him.  This malediction makes him leave you.  I wouldn’t give him that power.  He has too fucking much already.”

            That was enough.  I was convinced it wasn’t Mo.  Some whispering corner of my thoughts might continue to suspect him until I knew who actually did it, but in a more visceral way, he had convinced me of his innocence.  My goal became to convince him of Oz’s.

            “You’ve barely spent any time with Oz.”  I looked at the clock.  “It’s 6:30 AM in Germany.  He’ll just be getting up.”  I handed Mo my phone.  “Call him.  Ask him whatever you have to ask him to prove he’s guilty or clear his name.”

            I left him alone in his room and began surfing my laptop in the living room.  Twenty minutes later, Mo came out and handed me my phone.

            “I don’t think it’s Oz anymore,” he said.

            He just called my husband Oz.  “No?”

            “No.  I never came right out and accused him, but I laid a trap, and he avoided it.  He’s either an evil genius or completely innocent.”

            “And you don’t think he’s an evil genius.”

            “He loves you.  He really loves you.”

            “Aww,” I blushed.

            “He invited me to the birthday party Vinnie’s throwing him.  He wants us to start over.”

            I threw my arms around Mo and held him tight.

            Breaking the embrace, Mo said, “Which means our number one suspect is now Vernon Bailey, and you have a lunch meeting with him at a hotel tomorrow.”

            That brought me right back to reality.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 17

            Getting dressed for work the next morning was an impossible task.  I looked fucking hot in everything.  No matter what pair of paints I tried on, my thighs filled out the legs, my ass perked out the back, and my cock and balls bulged out the crotch.  No matter which of my new turtlenecks I tried on, my shoulders stretched it taut across my chest, my chest perkily jutted out, my arms rounded out the sleeves with muscle, and the fabric tapered in at my waist, showing off my tight abs.  I shaved twice that morning, but nothing could get rid of my beard shadow, which rakishly highlighted my jaw and cheekbones.

            I looked so good that I had to stop and masturbate three times just so I could get my cock to deflate and fit into my pants.  Normally, I’d revel in looking so fuckable, but I had to meet with Vernon today, and with my sex drive at an 11, I wanted to reduce his temptations.  I even asked Mo if he could chaperone us.  That way, if Vernon got too randy, I had someone I could fob him off on.

            “Thank you for considering me,” Mo said, “but I unfortunately have other plans for lunch today.”

            “Alexander?” I asked.

            Mo flitted his eyelashes and purred, “Whatever gave me away?”

            I would just have to forbear.

            When I got to my office, Garrett was hovering around my door, obviously waiting for me to show up.  Garrett was normally the best dressed man in the office, so I was used to him wearing more formal clothing than the rest of us, but this morning he was decked in a three-piece suit.  It was slate grey with a pastel pink tie.  The suit made him look imposing, highlighting the musculature he still had despite his slightly thickened middle.  But who was I kidding?  In that moment, with my brain swimming in sex hormones, Garrett looked delectable.  Just look at my husband—I like a man with a little belly.  Everything about him looked powerful and masculine.

            “It’s about time you showed up,” Garrett said.

            “It’s five minutes to 9,” I pointed out.  “Work doesn’t start for five minutes.”  I let him into my office and offered him the guest chair, but he did not take it.

            “As a manager, you should be in at least half an hour early in case people in your department need you,” he rattled off.  “At least, that’s what I’d do if I were the manager.”

            Resignedly, I took my seat and asked, “How can I help you?”

            “My in-laws are going to be in town next week, so I am requesting next Wednesday afternoon off.”

            “Sure.  I don’t see a problem with that.”

            “You see how it’s done?  I cleared it with my manager a week in advance, rather than foisting it off on an underling the morning of while hoping my superiors don’t notice.”

            “You don’t have any underlings,” I reminded him.

            “I have Alexander.”

            “He is your coworker.”

            Garrett snorted derisively.  The noise was charmless and distorted his otherwise handsome face.  He began looking around my office.  He stalked it predatorily, like a wolf about to mark his territory.  He’d done this a handful of times before.  Ever since I was promoted over him, Garrett had been convinced that one day my office would be his.  He did everything short of pulling out a tape measure and fabric swatches.  The ritual was just as repulsive this time as ever.  Still, now was a good a time as any to see his fantasy. 

            As I was about to offer him a handshake, though, he started talking again.  “You don’t have a picture of your husband in your office.”

            “No, I don’t,” I said.  “I have pictures of him on my phone if you want to see them.”

            “I wouldn’t brook that sort of disrespect if you were my husband.”

            “I guarantee you Oz doesn’t care.”

            “My cubicle is half the size of your office, and I share it with Alexander, and I still have a picture of my wife and our three kids on my desk.”

            Right.  Garrett’s straight.  My thoughts were thick with so much gay sex that I’d forgotten this preening drama queen had a wife and fancied himself an alpha bro.

            He continued.  “That’s four pictures, not one.  I’m sure you can find some corner of the desk for your husband.”

            “If you’re done critiquing my office décor, it’s 9 o’clock,” I reminded him.

            “Enjoy the office while it’s yours.”  With that, Garrett left.

            As soon as he was gone, Mo ducked into the office.  “Well?  Did you Eye of Horus him?”

            “He’s straight.”

            Mo chuckled throatily.  “You’re kidding.”

            “He has a wife and kids.”

            Mo shrugged.  “So did my Grindr date on Friday.”

            “Garrett wants to destroy me, not fuck me.”

            “Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Mo said, plopping into my guest chair.  “I’m not saying he doesn’t love his wife.  I’m not saying he’s not attracted to women.  I am saying that a guy doesn’t hunt another guy like a caveman unless he wants to drag him back to his cave.”

            “Well, just in case he’s a Kinsey 0, we should have a back-up plan.”

            “I’m open to suggestions,” Mo said, spreading his arms in a posture of surrender.

            Inspiration hit me.  “He asked for a favor on the 8^th.”

            “And?”

            “Let’s throw an obstacle in his way, see if resorts to magic to overcome it.”

            “You still think he’s a magic user?  Really?”

            “You said it was worth pursuing.”

            “Let’s just assume Garrett is the sort of magic user who would use magic to resolve office squabbles.  I know my magic history—there are some real petty jerks spread across its pages.  Assuming that, if Garrett was going to cast another spell, I’m pretty sure he would’ve cast it by now.”

            “He asked for the afternoon off.  I can ask to meet his in-laws.”

            Mo dripped with sarcasm.  “Yeah, that’s an obstacle.”

            “Ye of little faith,” I said, quieting Mo.  I picked up the receiver of my work phone, punched in Garrett’s extension, pressed speaker phone, and returned the receiver to its handle.  It didn’t take long to get from my office to his desk.  Sure enough, he picked up on the third ring.

            “Garrett Duarte,” he said.

            “Hey, Garrett.  It’s Ian.  I’ve decided that I’m not going to give you Wednesday afternoon off.”

            “But you already approved it,” Garrett said.  “Two minutes ago.”

            “That was before I realized you were lying to me.”

            “Are you accusing me of lying to my superior?”

            “I’m glad you acknowledge me as your superior,” I said disdainfully, flexing my pecs reflexively.  Mo covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing, and I proceeded.  “No one wants to spend time with their in-laws.  You must be lying.  Therefore, no time off.”

            “But you already approved it.”

            “Check your calendar,” I said.

            “What does the date have to do with…”

            Interrupting him, I said, “April Fools.”

            “A good prank is less confusing,” Garrett said.  “Is the prank that you are cancelling my afternoon off, or is the prank that you pretended to cancel my afternoon off?”

            “I’m not giving you the time off.”

            “You already approved it,” he repeated.  “You can’t do that.”

            “I can totally do that.  This is me doing that right now.  I’m your boss.  Your boss who is doing that.”

            “This is a hollow power play,” Garrett steamed.

            “Like deserves like,” I replied.  Fucking with Garrett was a heady trip.  I felt a power deep in my balls.  I couldn’t help but spread my shoulders and bring my arms down to flex them.  I’d missed sparring with him.

            “Between the kids and work, my wife can’t pick her parents up from the airport.  It’s not like I’m dying to spend time with them, but I promised.  What can I do to get that afternoon off?”

            “Produce one or both in-laws on Wednesday morning in person, and I’ll be glad to give you the afternoon off.”

            “I need the afternoon off to pick them up from the airport.  They’re not getting in until the afternoon. You’ve got to be joking.”

            “Not at all.”

            “That’s impossible.”

            “As an employee, you should do whatever it takes to make your manager happy.”  I ran my hand up and down my abs.

            “That’s your angle,” Garrett said.

            “Angle?  What angle?  I’m just doing my due diligence before approving employee time off.”

            Garrett sighed loudly. “Fine.  I’ll figure it out.”

            “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

            “Is there anything else?”

            “Nope.  Smooches.”  With that, I ended the call.

            “Bravo,” Mo said.

            “I gave him a problem with no solution.  If it magically gets solved, well, then maybe it was magic.”

            “That’s all well and good.  But, the bravo was for your master manipulation.  He fell right into your trap.”

            “I’ve been his boss for years,” I explained.  “I know how to push his buttons.”

            “I’m even more convinced that he wants to fuck you now.”

            “I’m meeting with Vernon Bailey for lunch.  Garrett will have to get in line.”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 18

            Normally, I’d take business lunches to the Black & Blue or the Public House, but Vernon, via his mawkish secretary, had insisted on the Bristol.  I didn’t look forward to explaining the receipts to Mr. Tyler (or more likely Mr. Carr).  This lunch was far too pricy for my budget, but I was sure the company would turn a blind eye if it was for Vernon. 

            When I arrived, Vernon was already there.  He was wearing a perfectly fitted navy-blue suit with a peach dress shirt underneath.  He had a three days’ growth of beard on his face and smiled brightly when he saw me.  Why did he have to be so attractive when every third thought I had was fucking?

            Vernon waved me over to the booth.  The booths at the Bristol look are arranged in a wide rectangle with one of the long sides cut off.  The red booth surrounds round brown tables—several small tables, each with an ordinary chair on the other side.  Vernon had secured for himself one of the cushioned booth seats, forcing me to one of two choices.  I could sit next to him on the booth, where I’d be practically cozying up to him.  Or, I could sit in the chair on the opposite side of the table, where I’d be on full display.  The former would be seen as an invitation.  The latter would be seen as an insult.

            I knew there was no right choice, so, as this was a business lunch and I needed to keep a table between us not to jump him, I chose the chair opposite him.

            As I pulled out the chair, a broad smile spread across his face.  “Lovely, are you really going to leave me so cold, sitting so far away from me?”

            I sat down and firmly stated, “You may call me Ian.  You may call me Mr. Myers.  The pet names have to stop.”

            Vernon pouted, but I could tell it was all a sham.  Sadly, it was adorable.  If Oz had made a face like that, I wouldn’t be able to resist kissing it. 

            When I didn’t externally react to his pout, Vernon took off his suit jacket and folded it neatly on the chair next to him.

            I had to remain steadfast.  Vernon was pulling out all the stops.  He wasn’t wearing a tie, and up close, the peach dress shirt was sheer; I could see his prodigious chest hair through the material.  His dense musculature was highlighted by every gentle flow of fabric, and the color practically made him look shirtless.  Vernon normally was clean-shaven, but he knew Oz had a beard, so he purposely hadn’t shaved, and a gorgeous crop of black stubble had had blossomed across his face.  His cologne was even enticing: a heady mixture of leather with woodsy undertones. 

            After a second, I recognized it.  It was Oz’s cologne. 

            My fists clenched.

            My face reddened.

            My balls roiled.

            Seeing that his teasing was having its desired effects, Vernon unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it open.

            “I remind you, Vernon, this is a business lunch.”

            “Are you so uncouth?  We haven’t yet even ordered our libations, and you want to dive headlong into business?”

            His voice shivered down my spine, sending flares of pleasure to my extremities.  Afraid of losing my defenses, I flagged down our waiter.

            I was ready to order, but Vernon spoke for me.  “My dining companion will have a glass of the Sauvignon blanc, and I’ll have a Macallan neat.”

            The waiter was off before I could stop him.  I turned to Vernon and scolded him.  “I normally don’t drink during business meetings.”

            “Folderol and twaddle,” Vernon returned.  “One glass of wine is not going to diminish your capacity to effectively negotiate our trifling business affairs.  Look at you—your robust and virile physique can easily metabolize one teensy little glass.  Besides, I have it on high authority that you are a lover of wine.”  The word “lover” rolled off his tongue like a waterfall.

            “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.”

            “That can be arranged, sweetness,” he said.

            “What did I say about the pet names?”

            “That they are pleasurable and uncannily accurate?”

            I had to stifle a laugh.  Damn him.  That shouldn’t have been charming, but he made it work.  “Did you at least bring the signed documents?” I asked.

            “I would be derelict in my duties had I not.”

            “That’s a yes?” I asked.

            “Yes, gorgeous.  It’s a yes.”

            When the word “gorgeous” hit my ears, I had to suppress a small quiver.  The only way I knew to shut down his advances was veiled insults, so I responded with, “You’re not a fan of word economy, are you?”

            He leaned in and stroked his facial hair with the back of his hand.  It was a studied gesture designed to accentuate his shoulders and face at the same time.  It worked.  He looked like a painting by Gauguin.  While he stroked, he said, “Over the years, I have grown so fond of your ripostes, but it just now occurs to me that you may think my overtures have been in jest.”

            I braced myself.  Whatever came after that was not going to be good.

            “I assure you, my orchid, that my aim is true.  I desire to bed you.”

            I swallowed hard.  While I was still trying to figure out how to respond, I felt a familiar buzzing that told me I was about to change again. 

            In front of Vernon, I was about to grow. 

            This time, the buzzing was limited almost entirely to just my cock and balls, and it was intense.  I could feel my cock harden and lengthen, until it reached further down my pant leg than it ever had before.  It was well over half way to my knee.  I couldn’t really look at it without drawing attention to it, but it seemed to be a whole inch bigger.  My balls, already quite hefty, inflated, growing intense and leaden, pushing my ramrod stiff cock forward even further.  The little bit of tingling not in my cock settled into my ass, encouraging it just a bit rounder, just a bit fuller.  I felt myself rise slightly in the chair as the meaty heft of my ass lifted me noticeably upwards. 

            Then I realized it wasn’t just my ass getting bigger.  The tingling sensation dashed around my body, and I grew the smallest bit taller.  Oz’s shoes now fit me perfectly.  I could tell that my turtleneck didn’t go down quite as far as it had.  The pants that had mostly fit this morning now clung around my ass and genitals.  When I stood up, I would be obscene.

            But I didn’t care.  I just wanted to fuck.

            Every thought was fucking.  My muscles tensed, and I wanted to use them to fuck.  I could feel a flush returning to my face, darkening my lips, and I wanted to kiss a man while fucking.  My breath caught a little quicker, and I wanted to pant while fucking.  My mouth watered, and I wanted to lick a man’s nipples while fucking.  My anus twitched, and I wanted it to be fucked.   

            I just wanted to stick my dick in the nearest willing person and ride him until I exploded.  And I was facing a beautiful man who had wanted me for years.

            One little voice at the back of my head reminded me that this was the spell talking, not my actual desires.  If I actually had sex with Vernon, the consequences would be dire.

            “Have I scandalized you?” Vernon asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

            “No.  It’s just…” I had no idea how I was going to finish that thought.  All that was running through my head was how much of a relief it would be to plow Vernon into the next century.

            “If you’ve caught feelings for me, never fret.”  As he said this, Vernon stretched out his left hand across the table, but rather than presumptuous, the move struck me as romantic.  This was Vernon being genuinely sweet.  He wanted more than just a fuck.  But he definitely wanted to start there.

            I had no idea if this was the right move, but I had to find out, one way or another.  If I could resist this, I doubt there was anything I couldn’t resist.  I put my hand in his.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 19

            “I’m delighted you see things my way, dear boy.  Why don’t you join me on this side of the table?”

            I rose from the chair, momentarily startled by the higher vantage point, and twirled around to join him on the cushioned booth seat, never releasing Vernon’s hand, to sit by his left side.  With my free hand, I began stroking his face.  The coarse sensation of his stubble was sandpaper lightning under my fingertips.  I pulled him in close for a kiss, and I could feel his lips pressed against mine.  The intensity increased, and soon I could feel his rough beard scratching my face.  I let go of his hand and held the back of his head with both of mine.  His kiss was life-giving and vital.

            As it reached a crescendo, he pulled back.

            “I owe you gramercy,” he said, a little short of breath.  “While I have enjoyed the company of many-a gentlemen before you, it was always a sweaty, dirty shame perpetrated behind locked doors.  That was liberating.”

            I rubbed his cheek affectionately, slowly lowering my hand until it was down the front of his shirt, swirling his chest hair, admiring just how firm his chest was.  His muscles weren’t large, but they were solid, dense, and present.

            I drew closer to him, preparing to pull him into me, when our waiter returned.

            Unfazed, he placed our drink orders on the table, saw that we were mid-embrace, and simply said, “I’ll give you two another minute before you order.”  Without fanfare, he turned and left.

            “What are you in the mood for?” I whispered into his ear.

            “You can never err with the seafood at this establishment.  Perhaps a seafood tower to celebrate our coming together in a kiss.”

            “That’s not what I meant,” I said, practically breathed, into his ear.  “It’s all on the menu, Vernon.”  After I moment, I added, pausing after each word, “You need but to ask.”

            “Something more insouciant, then,” he said.  His left hand crawled down my front, stopping only momentarily to appreciate the firmness of my abs, until he reached my zipper.  With one deft pull, he released the pressure on my bulge, and some of my underwear-clad cock seeped out of the opening.  His agile fingers lowered my boxer briefs and began drawing out all of my rigid cock, right there at the table, until it was entirely free.  The table barely obscured what he was doing.  At any moment, we could be discovered. 

            Undaunted, he began to stroke my entire length, using his thumb and forefinger to apply precise, gentle, concentrated pressure to my head whenever he reached the tip.

            As he began his ministrations, the waiter came back over.

            “And what will you be having for lunch this afternoon?”

            Vernon intensified his attention on my cock head, and my whole body spasmed.

            “Sir, are you okay?” the waiter asked.

            “So good,” I managed.  I could feel the flush rise higher in my cheeks into my forehead.

            “We’ll have the seafood tower,” Vernon said.

            “Right away,” the waiter said, taking our menus and leaving.  The entire time, Vernon’s hand never left my cock.

            “We’re going to get in trouble,” I told him.

            “I’ve yearned for some decent trouble.  I’ve too long languished in propriety.”

            “This is public indecency,” I pointed out.  “This is an arrestable offense.”

            Vernon cast a furtive glance around the restaurant.  The customers who were there were engaged in their own conversations, hardly looking up from the tables.  With a devilish glint in his eye, he went down on one knee, then the other.  “May as well hang for a sheep as a lamb,” Vernon said.  With a wink, he put his mouth on the head of my cock and began teasing it with his tongue and lips.

            Slowly, he worked his mouth down my shaft until half my cock was inside.  He licked its length as though it were a succulent feast.  Involuntarily, I began moaning lowly and clenching my ass.  A woman at a table not far from the booths turned to look because of the noise I was making.

            “I thought I was going to sneeze,” I said, my voice wavering up and down as Vernon varied his speed.  He then tickled my bounteous balls with one of his hands, and I moaned again.  “Another false alarm,” I said.

            The woman looked unconvinced, but turned around to finish her lunch.

            “If you’re not done when the waiter comes back…” I said.

            There was a faint popping sound as he pulled his mouth off my cock.  “You mean if you’re not done.”  With that, the warmth of his mouth once again encompassed my cock, and he pulled more and more of me into him until the entirety of my cock was secured by his throat.

            I began whimpering and gripped the table.  Vernon’s head was fully in my lap, his nose pressed against the copious bush of pubic hair that spread forth from my open fly.

            Suddenly, the waiter returned with our food.  The tower was just tall enough to obscure his view of what was going on, but as soon as he put it down, we would be caught.

            “Where did your dining companion go?” the waiter asked.

            In one fluid motion, Vernon was off my cock and sitting back in his chair.  “My apologies, good sir.  There was a pressing engagement I had to attend to under the table.”

            My cock, slick with his saliva, red and engorged at full mast, stood out in front of me.  I quickly threw a napkin over it, but it made no difference because it made an obvious tent and stuck up obscenely.  I shifted forward in my seat, hoping to hide it.

            “My gentlemen friend and I are actually planning on finishing this meeting in my bedchamber.  Would it be too much of a hassle to keep our order on ice and have it sent up in half an hour?  If it contravenes some sort of established protocol, I could make it worth your while.”  With that, he produced his wallet and placed a $100 bill on the table.

            “I’d be glad to,” the waiter said.

            “The room is listed under Bailey,” he said.

            With that, the waiter took his money and left us be.

            “Come along, turtledove,” he said to me, rising to his feet.

            I went to tuck in my cock—as much as I could, given its turgidity—when he stopped me.

            “That wouldn’t be sporting, now would it?”

            “You want me to walk through a restaurant and a crowded hotel with a massive hardon sticking out of my pants?”

            “You make it sound so salacious.  I’ll be beside you the entire time.”

            I knew there was no way out of this, so I rose to my feet and positioned Vernon so he was standing in front of me.  I had already been head-and-shoulders taller than him, and after my most recent growth, I was that little bit more.  I was also significantly wider than him, but he was a solid enough man to block my exposed member.  As he stood, facing away from me, I grabbed him around the chest and held him close to me, hiding my cock between the fabric of my turtleneck and the silk of his shirt.

            “Your chest is heavenly,” he said, resting his head against my left pec.  “Brusque and forthright, peaked like mountains, and emanating an enticing aroma of seduction.”

            I flexed my arms around his torso.  “Most of me can be described as mountainous.”

            Precariously, we made our way to the elevator in the hotel lobby.  A handful of people, mostly staff, looked at us, aware that something odd was happening, but not certain what it exactly was.

            “Have you never seen two paramours engaged in public affection?” he asked one particularly brazen woman who pointed at us.

            Fortune favored us, and we were the only two passengers on the elevator.  As we were alone, he stepped away from me.  My cock had softened ever so slightly, but it was still obviously erect.

            “I do admire the duration with which you can maintain that massive edifice,” he said.  “A lesser man would be drooping with shame and timidity by now.”

            That little bit of attention reinvigorated my erection, and it surged to its full glory.

            “Blessed mercy,” Vernon said.  “It seems I have swollen your ego, among other things.”

            When the elevator doors opened—on the 6^th floor—Vernon stepped off without so much as a quick look to see if the coast was clear.

            I followed him, my dick emerging from the doors before even my bounteous pecs.  After I’d gotten ten feet away from the elevator, a man in a business suit rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and I felt a flash of dread.  I was going to be caught with my dick out by a complete stranger in a fancy hotel.  Vernon either didn’t notice or didn’t care.  He just kept walking.

            Acting on impulse, I turned to face the wall and smashed myself up against it, naively acting as though I could hide my cock before he saw it.

            I stood there, hoping against hope that the stranger would just keep walking, but instead, he stopped and said hello to me.

            “Hello,” I said as innocently as I could muster.

            “I noticed your member is out for the world to see.”

            “Sorry about that.  I...”

            He cut me off.  “Don’t apologize.  Never apologize for a member like that.   You’re some sort of high-end escort, right?  With a body like that, and equipment like that, you must be.”  He looked me up and down, marveling at my height and openly admiring the size of my muscles.  He was practically licking his lips.  “If what I saw is actually yours, and not some latex phony,” he continued, “I would like to hire you for later this evening.  Do you have a card?”

            I turned to face him, showing him the full length of my erect cock.  I stepped a little closer to him.  The man was slight, but heavy.  He was at most 5’7”.  In other words, I was twice as wide as him and practically a foot taller.  “It’s real, but I’m not for sale,” I clarified.  It was half-growl, half-implied-threat.

            “Right, sorry, my mistake,” he said, and then finished his trip to the elevator.

            At the end of the hall, I saw Vernon waiting patiently next to his open door.

            In a dozen quick steps, I was at his side.  I lifted him off the ground.  With my new musculature, the man felt incredibly light.  He was a full-grown, athletic man, and I could pick him up effortlessly.  I carried him into his suite.  I was worried I would have to duck under the doorway, but I didn’t have to… yet.  If I kept growing, it would soon be an inevitability. 

            I tossed Vernon to his bed and pounced on him.  I tore open his shirt, revealing a small but strong, well-manicured chest.  With a firm tug, I had his pants off, and his thick 6 inches came forth.

            I got off the bed to disrobe.  I kicked off my shoes; he did the same.  I struggled a little bit to get my pants past my thighs, but once they were all the way to the ground, I flexed my thighs for him one by one, just to show him how powerful they actually were.  Then, I grabbed my turtleneck, and wrestled it off my torso.  It fought me so hard that by the time I had it over my head, I was breathing heavily, my chest bounding up and down.

            I rejoined Vernon on the bed, and he started stroking my Adonis belt with his index finger.  “You are perfection,” he said.

            “You haven’t gotten the whole package yet,” I said, flipping him over.  My cock was slick with his saliva and my own copious pre.  Before he could resist, I had entered him.  Clearly, Vernon was a well-trained bottom, for I was able to get almost all of my entirety into him on the first stroke.

            As I thrust in and out, Vernon moaned and murmured appreciatively.  He had a runner’s endurance; we were still going hot and heavy half an hour later when there was a knock at the door.

            “That’s our lunch,” I said, leaving him on the bed.  I strolled to the door, completely naked and fully erect.  I opened it, and there was our waiter with our food and drinks on a cart, Vernon’s navy suit jacket folded neatly on top.

            The waiter couldn’t help but look at my cock.  Who could turn away, honestly?  Without breaking focus, he said, “I’m going to need Mr. Bailey’s signature on this bill."

            Vernon came to the door, also completely naked and fully erect, and signed the bill.

            “I included another hundred as gratuity.  Kindly leave the cart there,” Vernon said.  “We will bring it inside when we’ve concluded.”

            The waiter walked away, not entirely sure how to take the transaction.

            I closed the door, and Vernon led me back to the bed, his hand around my cock as though it were my leash.

            “Ready for the grand finale?” I said when we reached the bed.

            “Am I ever,” he said, and guided me into his waiting ass.  I began bucking wildly.  Vernon exploded all over himself, causing his ass to tighten around my cock.  Feeling his enjoyment, I was about to burst myself.

            “Here are your drinks, sirs,” the waiter said.  I was back at the table in the restaurant; the fantasy was over.  It had felt like over an hour had passed, but barely five seconds had.