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

[Kultikelder]

Keep on that scribing thing. Youe got a very good story going here.

[Bigger]

What a twist!!! Loved to the it all turn good in the end! To be honest, I was hoping it all turned out to be a misunderstanding and that Eenie’s changes was more of a gift or fantasy for Oz rather than a threat. You did a GREAT job with it all! Can’t wait to read the conclusion!!!

[gkgrowth]

Okay, I basically just lurk on here, but after that twist, I HAD TO say something.

What an amazing reveal! It makes me want to re-read the whole thing to see it all come together again. You are seriously a great writer and storyteller! Thank you for the most riveting mystery I've read in MONTHS! I'm looking forward to the ending and any future stories you write!!!

[Ro20316]

It had to be one of Oz' friedns but teh reasons were completely unexpected.

It was not a bad gif at all. Well, as lomg as he didnt cheat on Oz lol

Can not wait to ead teh conclusion amd for the love of god i would love a spin off about Garret fullfilling his fantasy of becoming a huge shedrerd bodybuilder.

[Bear]

I'm going to sound like a broken record, but:

Ditto the compliments of everyone else.

Great job with suspense, writing quality, plot, and really, a super interesting premise.  And the curse!  Even better .

I'm sure the ending will not disappoint.  Looking forward to your next posts.  Sooooooo good!

[dredlifter]

This is so fun...  And I can't wait to see how big and sexy Oz turns out too...

[Omiganda]

I can't get enough of this story. Thank you so much for taking time for this.

[Ogun]

This is amazing and I can't wait to see what happens next. I suspect Mo will use the exact stats, so Eenie will end up being even bigger than he planned, because Mo's mischievous like that.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 43

            Once I got back to the apartment, I quickly made an early lunch, knowing I’d likely be occupied during my normal lunchtime.  I set up my laptop on a chair by the bathroom door so that it pointed into the bedroom.  I made sure I was the appropriate distance from the camera so as to put on a good show for Oz.  I even took a few test videos to make sure the laptop camera was in full working order.

            Then I disrobed, completely naked, my hairy musculature on full display.  I put the clothes out of frame, closed the bedroom door, and made sure the bed was made.  I opened all the curtains and blinds so the room filled with soft afternoon light.  I wanted this footage to be pristine.

            By noon, I was ready. 

            The last fifteen minutes were the most excruciating.  Every other time I’d grown, it had taken me by surprise.  This time, I knew it was coming, and it couldn’t come soon enough.  I even set Oz’s old alarm clock to go off at 12:14 to cue me. 

            The alarm sounded, and I turned it off.  I pressed record on the laptop, and went back to my mark.

            I looked into the camera, and said, “Happy birthday, Oz.”

            I got to pick the final changes, so when the buzzing began, I knew exactly what was coming.

            I felt the tingling in my face first.  Oz liked a strong jaw, so mine thickened even further to a severely pronounced jaw.  My brow and cheekbones also grew more prominent, and my beard thickened enough that Oz would get his fingers stuck in it when he ran them through.  My lips had lost a little fulness when I lost all that body fat, and now they plumped back up, just a little riper than they’d been two weeks ago.  My eyes and teeth sparkled; my skin became magazine perfect.  My face alone would make Oz cream his pants.

            I didn’t get any taller.  I was already 6’10”.  I was tall enough for me and Oz.

            The buzzing hit my muscles harder than it ever had.  I was about to put on more muscle than I ever had in one growth spurt.  I could feel the fibers in my muscles swell and grow.  I flexed and posed for Oz in the video.  Over the years, I had caught Oz looking at muscle morph porn, and I didn’t blame him.  That stuff is hot.  I was more than happy to become his walking muscle morph.  I would’ve told Mo an even bigger number, but I was afraid of losing all mobility, so I was going to stop at 400 pounds of quaking muscle awe.

            My shoulders were now so wide that I looked like I was wearing football pads, and I was completely shirtless. My neck thickened wider than my head.   I turned around to show Oz my back, for I could feel it thickening too.  My back felt like a mountain chain, and my traps felt like the summit rising into the sky.  I couldn’t wait to watch that bit with Oz.

            Turning back around, I spread my lats for the video, and they grew so wide my arms couldn’t properly reach my waist any more.  If I stuck out my fingers to their full length, I could just touch it.  Then my biceps blossomed into muscular rapture, and my hands moved further away from my waist.  A few weeks of yoga and stretching, I’d probably get my flexibility back.  But right now, it was hot to be too big to reach my own waist.  After showing the camera just how wide and thick my upper body was, I flexed each bicep, delighted how close to my ears each muscle came.  They were round and powerful, with two distinct peaks.  My triceps dipped down, impossibly low, and when I flexed them for the camera, a staggering horseshoe shape formed.  My arms were so swollen with muscle and brawn that they rivaled my legs from two weeks ago.

            While I admired my arms, my abs hardened into impossible bricks, pulling my attention away.  My waist wasn’t quite as small as it had been, but it was still an anatomical anomaly how disproportionately small my waist was.  I did a vacuum pose for the camera, and I swear I could hear Oz gasp.  Through the fur that covered my entire torso and lower arms, I could see striations and veins being forced further and further to the surface. 

            Suddenly, my chest began inflating with intensity.  Before this last change, I could already see them without looking down, but now they were growing so large as to forever obscure my lower body from me.  Without a mirror, that is.  I began flexing them one by one for the camera as they grew larger.  Already immense, they developed until I couldn’t look down without my lantern jaw bumping into the chest, especially since it had grown too.  I demonstrated this to Oz, smiling rakishly.  My chest hair thickened and darkened, swirling into a carpet as luxurious as a bearskin rug.  Staring sultrily into the camera, I rubbed my chest with my mighty hands.  I could almost feel Oz’s face run through it already.

            When my legs started to grow, I had to widen my stance twice.  As I did so, I flexed my thighs, pointing from my quads to my waist to show just how thick those legs were.  My calves soon inflated to the point of muscular absurdity.  My legs almost had an hourglass figure—thick thigh to narrow knee to thick calves.  But they were diamond hard, and as I twisted them in the camera for Oz, I showed off the heart shape my calves had formed.

            I turned around again as I felt the growth push my ass out further, harder, stronger.  My ass would be a testament to muscular excess.  I knew Oz liked a man with a massive ass, so I’d made sure that mine was overdeveloped, with just enough fat that it was still pleasantly round.  I ran my hands all over it, feeling its fullness and firmness.  I turned back around, and in the laptop screen, I saw that my waist was so small that my ass was actually partially visible from the front.  I put my hands on the visible part to tantalize Oz.

            Then, I took a few steps forward toward the camera to show off my bodybuilder waddle.  I had to roll my legs wide just to throw them around each other.  My slow, seductive walk was made slower and more seductive by just how deliberately I had to walk.  I turned around and walked back to my starting point.  I’d saved the best for last.

            In the chest of sex toys that he only took out on special occasions, Oz had his favorite dildo.  Unlike our everyday dildos, this dildo was a monster: 14 inches long, 10 inches around.  It had been a present at our bachelor party.  On our honeymoon, Oz could only take the first three or four inches.  Over the years, though, he’d been working away at it.  And now, with just enough foreplay, he could take the whole thing.  He would never admit this to anyone but me, but it was a skill he was proud of.

            I was going to get bigger than his dildo.

            My cock, knowing what was coming to it, lengthened to its full, already absurd, 11.5 inches.  It was a monstrous cock, but Oz deserved better.  Thicker.  Harder.  Bigger.  I began slowly masturbating the cock as it grew larger and larger.  I already couldn’t fit one hand around it, but as my cock pushed farther out in all directions, I could get less and less of my hands around it.  A feeling of pure, erotic might emanated from my cock as it increased its size, pouring out in all directions.  I continued masturbating as my cock protracted and got girthier.  To show off just how massive it was, I hefted it up until it pointed at my chest.  It fought my efforts to lift it because, even at this weight, it wanted to stick straight out.  My balls similarly filled out, getting wider, longer, and hanging lower in my sac.  They were halfway down to my knees, and my legs were longer than they’d once been.  My balls had finished, but my cock kept growing.  Soon, my cock head was past my belly button.  To increase the pleasure, I began rubbing the head against my furry abs.  The friction, the hair, the firmness of my abs, pushed me closer to orgasm.  When I felt it finish, when I’d reached my full 15 inches in length and 12 inches in girth, I let my cock fall.  It bounced heavily.  I slammed my hand into the shaft, and my cock hummed internally, but it barely moved it was so firm and rigid, continuing to jut out like the arm on a crane.  With all the added length and thickness, it was easily twice as heavy as it had been at 11.5 inches.  And twice as hot to the touch.  And twice as hard.

            The transformation had finished, so I looked into the camera and said, “Why be big, when you can be massive?”  My voice was even deeper and more resonant than I had gotten used to.

            My cock leading the procession, I paraded slowly to the laptop.  With my enlarged balls and fully erect cock, my waddle was exaggerated even further.  It almost looked like I was riding a horse.  In one sense, I was.  In another, Oz would be when he got home.

            When I reached the laptop, I leaned over and looked directly into the camera.  “I’ve missed you, Birthday Boy,” I whispered, then turned off the camera.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 44

            Between the spell and the video, I was more aroused than I had ever been.  I sidled into the bathroom, grateful the door was still wide enough to accommodate me if I twisted to the side, to fire off a quick orgasm.  That’s all I wanted: a quick orgasm.  As I had been doing a lot, recently, I watched the furry muscle blimp in the mirror jack off to egg myself on.  I had so much cock to masturbate, so much muscle enfolding me, that I went at it like a jackhammer.  The sensations my cock was capable of were intense and mind-altering.  I hadn’t even reached plateau, and my mind was afire with pleasure.  I hadn’t even orgasmed yet, and my body was already shaking.

            The build-up was so intense that I needed to steady myself against the wall.  It felt like I had simply rested my hand against the wall to hold myself up, but I shattered three of the black tiles.  It felt like I had barely touched them, and they cracked—one even pulverized into dust.  Without trying, I had turned tile into dust. The sheer strength of my body pushed me over the finish line, and I came.

            I roared in sexual ecstasy, a feral beast.  My orgasm produced so much cum that I lost count of the volleys and streams.  The orgasm itself took minutes to complete.  The swirl of chemical euphoria that danced through my brain during the orgasm fired synapses of delight so intense that I lost my ability to sense anything else but the pleasure.  For the duration of the orgasm, I was in a boundless dimension of physical sensation, a galaxy and universe unto my climax. 

            When my faculties returned, I saw the panting, sweating, heaving brute in the mirror, his skin flush, his fur glistening, his face slack with the absence of intelligent thought but afire with lust and physical need.  The sight was almost enough to send me back over the top.

            I stood there, catching my breath, coming back to my senses.  Slowly, I became as much myself again as I could.  If my sex drive had been impossibly high before, it had somehow doubled.  I vibrated with sexual need.  That aspect of the spell couldn’t end soon enough.

            When I had regained enough of my self-control to move beyond the needs of my libido, I started to prepare for Oz’s return.  It took me twenty minutes to clean up, and I didn’t even bother with the tiles.

            Momentarily in charge of my thoughts, I decided I might as well start Oz’s birthday dinner.  I made it for him every birthday—an old-fashioned pot roast like his grandmother used to make.  The entrée would take hours to fully cook, so I wanted the prep work done well in advance.  With my sex drive thrumming in the background, who knew how long it would take me to finish.  On top of that, I was making a triple recipe, so the cooking time was going to be significantly longer.  And I knew there would be unique challenges with my new body. And that bestial call to pleasure myself booming like a klaxon behind my eyes.

            The first challenge was actually just getting to the kitchen.  I had never realized how narrow my bedroom door was.  It took three tries to get out of the bedroom—some part of me kept wedging in there.  I had to duck down low to clear the jamb, but that meant widening my stance, and it was already overly wide.  I couldn’t face forward—my shoulders, lats, and thighs saw to that.  If I turned slightly, my shoulders and arms got in each other’s way.  If I went through perfectly sideways, my pecs and back muscles made that an impossibility.  Seeing the reality that I was too massive for my apartment’s architecture was such a turn on that my trunk-like cock started to harden in glee.  Escape was a combination lock: start facing sideways, duck down, get halfway through the door, turn forwards slightly, get all the way through, stand back up.

            I would either master this dance, or we would widen the doors.

            I hadn’t expected leaving my bedroom to be a turn-on, but things that had never been even slightly sexy were suddenly the height of arousal.  Cooking, for instance, was an erotic thrill.  I had no clothes that fit me, but I didn’t want any ingredients to get stuck in my pelt, so I decided to wear Oz’s apron.  Oz never did any cooking, so the apron was practically new.  I put it on over my head, and soon realized my neck was so thick it took up almost all of the head hole—a hole designed to be somewhat loose was just right for my neck.  Then, because of my added height and how far out my pecs stuck out, the apron only went down to my waist.  My cock was completely exposed the apron was so inadequate.  I ended up taking my apron, turning it upside down, and tying it around my waist to protect my cock and balls.  However, my arms were so grotesquely thick with muscle, reaching behind my back to tie the knot was an acrobatic challenge.  In the strain to reach, I ended up sticking out my pecs so far forward that the first apron threatened to pop.  Being so unwieldy was such a turn on that my over-libidinous cock grew fully erect, making the whole thing an exercise in futility. 

            I became so hot and bothered that I worked my way back through my bedroom door, back into the bathroom, to jack off.  Thankfully, this time was just a quick jack off session, even if an animalistic voice beckoned me to stay in that mirror forever, staring at my awesome bulk and sexual prowess. 

            Ignoring the urge, I made my way out into the kitchen and started over.  This time, I tied the sash in front and worked it around until the apron faced the right way.

            Making Oz’s birthday dinner was no less challenging and sexual.  The first few cabinets I opened bounded back off my pecs.  I felt the second, lower apron tighten as my cock swelled slightly, aroused by my size.  Ignoring my cock as best I could, I learned to open the cabinet doors while stepping back so my chest didn’t stop the door’s progress.  I had a similar, but less pronounced, problem with the lower cabinets and my thighs.  And since my new pec beauties blocked everything below them from my sight, I had to cut all the vegetables slowly, methodically, and carefully.  And my biceps and lats pushed my arms so far away from each other that I ended up having to cut all my ingredients three times just to get them to the right sizes.

            My cock threatened to force its way out through the fabric, but forcing myself to focus on the task of cooking was keeping me more in control of myself.

            Using the slow cooker, surprisingly, was the easiest it had ever been.  Oz had gotten this slow cooker from his grandmother—it was an arcane monstrosity she’d purchased in the late 1940s, much larger than the modern, sleek designs of the 21st century.  I was surprised the antique still worked, but nothing could cook a pot roast better.  We almost never used it, so it lived on top of the cabinets in the kitchen.  The last time I used the slow cooker, I needed to stand on a small footstool (even at my 6’2” height) to reach it.  Then, I needed both hands to lower it to the counter.  Complicating its use, it was old, so we only plugged it into the surge protector, not directly into the wall.  The last time I used it, I needed both hands to move it to the counter closest to the surge protector.  I had been pretty buff before, so it wasn’t heavy, but the weight was oddly distributed and cumbersome.  This time, there was no struggle whatsoever.  I could reach it just by stretching up, and I lifted the entire appliance with one hand, shocked that my hand had grown large enough to support it like a waiter would a plate.  I carried it to the surge protector on one hand as easily as one might carry a frisbee. 

            I put the ingredients in to cook, pleased that I had overcome my primal urges long enough to do this for Oz.

            The task accomplished, though, I had at least eight hours to kill until it was done.  

            I went into the living room to await the reunion.  The armchair—my favorite chair in the apartment—could barely contain me when I sat in it.  Between my width and my weight, it groaned its disapproval.  I didn’t want to destroy it, so, I moved to the couch.  I had no sooner gotten comfortable that I noticed my shoulders were so broad that I took up space designed for two people.  That realization necessitated another trip to the bathroom to masturbate twice.  I really hoped that once the spell concluded that my libido would return to normal levels because, honestly, the four times I’d orgasmed in the last few hours hadn’t even slightly taken the edge off.

            I sat in the living room for a while, but, as I had no clothes that fit me, and I felt oddly exposed.  I’d sat in this living room naked hundreds of times over the last decade, but there’d never been this much of me to be naked.  I felt nakeder than I’d ever been.  And the constant craving to masturbate swelled from a siren to a storm.

            Knowing I’d feel less exposed there, I decided to wait in the bedroom until Mo came home to drop of my new phone.

            I corkscrewed myself back into my bedroom, grabbed my laptop, and got into the bed.  I tried to surf the internet for a while.  At first, my laptop seemed inadequately small, but when I realized I could reach all the buttons one-handed, I just moved it over to the right.  Then, I had to adjust the contrast brighter because the reflection of the hairy muscle bull in the laptop screen was turning me on.  That only worked for a little bit, however, because everything was a turn-on.  Some if it was unsurprising because they were designed to be erotic: Youtube thumbnails with bodybuilders and clickbait banners with half-naked men.  Some of it made sense given my heightened libido because they’re turn-ons if you’re already horny: advertisements for men’s underwear and pictures of male celebrities.  But when a picture of the Prudential Tower started revving my engine, I figured the internet probably wasn’t the safest place for me to be. 

            By then, it was only 3 PM: two hours until Mo came to the apartment, and another three after that until Oz.  I looked down at my body, it’s hirsute, jacked, ripped, overdeveloped musculature.  My cock rose up to say hello—perhaps the only part of my lower body that could extend past the shelf of my chest.  The voice in the back of my head assured me I could masturbate for two hours continuously and still be ready to go.  That I could just spend the next five hours releasing load after load after load, and I’d still have enough left to ride Oz like a bucking bronco.  It was so easy to just give into that voice, to surrender to the part of my limbic system that wanted five hours of orgasms.

            But I resisted.

            The voice was the spell talking.  If I listened too closely, it risked a catastrophic sequence of events.  It would suggest going back online to watch some hot videos.  And then it would suggest watching some porn.  And then it would suggest watching a Jayce Wilco porn.  And then it would suggest emailing Jayce because I had his email.  And then it would suggest paying Jayce to do a private cam show for me.  And then it would suggest inviting Jayce over so I could see it in person.  And then it would suggest that I just fucked him since he had already been paid to sleep with me.

            And then I would cheat on Oz. 

            I didn’t want to lose so close to the finish line.

            I wracked my brain to figure out what was a safe activity.  So many of my usual activities were completely off the table. 

            Most obviously, doing anything that involved leaving the house would be public indecency until I had some clothes. 

            Since I was full of such frenetic energy, I toyed with exercising.  But, working out would set off a similar chain reaction as deciding to masturbate for two hours. 

            I doubted I had the focus to read, and if architecture was turning me on, adjectives like “wet” and “hard” would probably send me over the edge.  Hell, seeing the page numbers go up and up and up and up was a turn-on.

            Until Oz came home, I was trapped.  Trapped in my apartment, trapped in my bedroom, trapped in my gargantuan body.

            So, I surrendered.  This was for Oz.  This was his birthday present, so I just lay there with my eyes closed, my hands a safe distance from my body.  My brain flooded me with erotic thoughts, and I did masturbate out of desperate necessity two more times, but unless it became an emergency, I lay in bed, waiting or Oz.

            The two hours dripped by.

            At long last, eventually, it was 5 PM.  Mo came by soon afterwards.

            “Hey, Eenie.  I got your phone.  Where are you?” he shouted.

            “In my room, naked” I answered.

            “I can tell by that basso profundo that your plan worked.  Care to show me the end result?”

            “Are you asking to see me naked?”

            “I suppose I am, yes.”

            “Just leave the phone and go,” I said.  “I don’t trust either of us right now.”

            “You don’t trust me?  I used your exact specifications.  I really, really wanted to sneak in 50 extra pounds or a few inches of cock, but I followed your directions.”

            The thought that Mo might do that had never even occurred to me.  “This spell is doing some weird shit to my brain now, Mo.  I do not trust it.”

            “Come on!” Mo whined.  I had flashbacks to him at five years old, moaning about being left out of my big boy games.

            “Fine,” I acquiesced.  “I’ll give you a peak, but then you go.”

            Mo’s cheer radiated through the door as I got out of the bed.  I opened the bedroom door, contorted my body until it burst through the door into the living room.  Once clear of the door, I flexed just about everything I could flex at once.

            “Holy fuck,” Mo said.  The front of his pants pushed out in an instantaneous erection.  I even saw a small wet spot forming.  “You might be the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”  The words went into my ear, down my spine, and into my cock.  I walked closer to Mo, and I realized just how much bigger than him I was.  Mo was tall, but I was seven inches taller.  Mo was hung, but my cock was almost twice as big as his.  Mo was buff, but I was over twice as muscular. 

            “You approve of these numbers now, little brother?”

            Mo nodded.  He put the phone down on the coffee table and said, “Oz is the luckiest fucking man on the planet.”

            “And he’s all mine,” I said.

            Mo looked down at my cock and said, almost pleadingly, “I really want to touch it.”

            I laughed derisively.  “Maybe after Oz has had a turn.  That way, I don’t have to see what perverted things you’d do with it.”  That had to be the spell talking.  Why would I give my brother permission to touch my cock?

            “Thank you.” Mo said without a trace of irony.

            “If Oz gives me permission, and if I want my brother touching my cock after the spell has concluded, and if I return to a normal level of horny, then maybe.”

            “Thank you,” Mo repeated.

            “I said maybe.”

            Mo’s cock was straining his pants and a redness was coming to his cheeks.  “I’m going to go find Alexander,” Mo said.  “Stay at his place tonight.”

            “Smart idea.”