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


TQuintA

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Chapter 47

            Oz stood by the side of the bed, frozen.

            “What time is it exactly?” I asked.

            “It was 11:59 when I put the phone down.”

            “It should start any second now.”

            “Do you have to film it?”

            “I’ll show you mine later if you’re a good boy,” I promised.

            “How will I know when it’s start…” Oz stopped before he could finish.

            “It started,” I said.

            I’d never seen the transformation from the outside, so I was so glad I was filming it.

            The first thing I noticed was Oz stretching up.  And up.  And up.  I’d grown a little by little, but Oz was growing all at once.  I watched as his head met even with the doorframe, then climbed higher than it.  By the time he stopped, his eyes were higher than the doorframe.

            “You do like me taller than you,” Oz said.

            “Always have,” I said.

            “I feel like I’m on stilts.  Everything looks so far away.”

            “You’d be surprised how fast you adjust,” I said.

            For a moment, it seemed like that was all that was going to happen, but then Oz’s hairy chest began to get hairier.  As did his stomach, and his legs.  Even his beard filled in.

            Oz ran his hands all over his chest and stomach as he got furrier and furrier.  I couldn’t wait to run my hands through it.  It looked silky and luxurious.

            He ended up just about as hairy as me.  I had more hair on my chest, he had more hair on his stomach and legs, but it all evened out.  As Oz explored his hair, he noticed that it had darkened a little, but that there were still patches of grey.

            “You kept the grey?” Oz asked.

            “I like the grey,” I said emphatically.

            “I know you said that, but I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

            “It did darken a bit, particularly your beard,” I said.  Oz reached up and felt his beard.

            “But there’s any grey at all left.”

            “Because I like it,” I repeated.

            “Sorry for doubting you,” he said.  Suddenly, Oz grew stiff and rigid.  “This is…” he trailed off.

            His body began swelling with muscle.  His shoulders grew broad, pushing further away until they were almost as wide as the doorjamb.  They were capped with thick muscles, rounded to beautiful excess.  His neck and traps grew too, thickening and climbing up to his face.  His back flared out—Oz turned around so I could see it.  His wide lats pushed his arms at absurd angles, and his back had swollen so thick with muscle that his shoulder blades displayed distinct muscle fibers, and a valley formed to reveal his spine.

            He turned back around, and I got to watch as his furry pecs got bigger and heavier.  They perched out from his chest, separating into two distinct slabs of muscle, with a chasm in between.  He flexed them, and they hardened into fleshy perfection.  He reached up to grip them in his hands, when his biceps mounded higher with muscle.  His biceps were steely and bulging, a vein creeping down the middle of each.  His forearms thickened with brawn; his hands increased into large mitts at the end of his arms.  His waist and stomach, stretched small from his increase in height, became dense.  It wasn’t a roid gut or a ball belly—it was solid with muscle and just enough fat so that it was still a belly.  Rather than distinct abs, two parallel columns ran down the front of his rounded stomach, revealing the power it was capable of.

            “My belly’s smaller,” Oz said.

            “But still a belly,” I said.  “I love that belly.”

            Oz’s legs thickened and swelled to support that large upper body.  His legs looked more like a powerlifter’s than a bodybuilder’s: rounded and thick, but not highly defined.  Oz turned again to show me his ass blossom into a hard, round, firm, glorious mass of assmeat.  He gripped it in his hands and squeezed it.  There was plenty of meat to get a hold of.

            “Damn, Ian,” he said.  “This is going to fill out any pair of pants I dare put on.”

            “It’s beautiful, Oz,” I said.  He turned back around, shaking his feet as he lifted them off the carpet.  They were growing to match his new size and proportions.

            “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he quipped, looking down at his new glory.

            “It’s not over yet,” I replied.

            “What do you mean?”  Then, his eyes grew wide in surprise.  Oz’s balls plumped into big and fat, bulbous bull balls, like two potatoes swinging in a mesh sack.  “Holy hell,” he said, taking one in each hand.  “These are enormous.”

            Not to be outdone, his cock lengthened and thickened, growing down to match the size of his new testicles.  Oz ran his finger down the length of it, surprised something so prodigious was attached to his body.  “You really want me to ruin pants,” Oz said.  “Between my ass and my cock and balls, my pants won’t have an inch of give.”

            “You’re welcome,” I said.

            Out of nowhere, there was a sound like a cinder popping in a fireplace, and the most bizarre scent filled the air.

            “What is that?” Oz asked.

            “Pennies and wintergreen,” I responded.

            “That’s it perfectly,” Oz said, sniffing the air.

            We had to compare bodies.  We made our way into the bathroom, turning off the laptop on the way.  Oz learned he too had to duck and turn sideways to get into the bathroom.  Standing next to my husband, I once again had to look up slightly to see his eyes.  That felt normal and right. 

            When Oz saw himself in that gigantic mirror, he nearly wept.  “I am a gorgeous pile of sex,” Oz said, smiling.  That was when I’d notice how bright and engaging his smile was.  My favorite thing about Oz had always been is smile—easy and wide, spreading across his face and lighting up a room.  In the transformation, all of those attributes had been augmented.  His smile was dazzling.

            I pulled out the fabric tape measure that Mo had bought me, and we began looking at stats.  I had to start with height.

            “7’1”,” I announced.  “Three inches taller than me.  Just like before.”

            “I’m over seven feet?” Oz said.

            “Yep.  For now and forever.” 

            “I’m used to being tall, but that is taller than tall.”

            “Only fitting you be taller than me.”

            “I think this is my favorite change,” I said, walking over to stroke his chest hair.  It was like running my hand through a bearskin rug.  His chest was unyielding and hard, firm with muscle.  I reached out to grab his arms, and they were also hard, granite-like.  “You’ve never been this solid,” I point out.

            Oz ran his hands over his own muscles.  “Wow.  My arms and chest—you gave me some serious power and definition there.”

            Oz stepped on the scale.  “What does this go up to?” he asked, craning over his pecs.  He could still see over his pecs, unlike me.

            “500.  Mo insisted.  He had grander ambitions than I did.”

            “Then I weigh just about 340.  No, 350.  Hard to tell from this altitude.”

            I put my hands on my chest.  “You should try reading it with these beauties in your way.”

            “How much do you weigh?” Oz asked.

            “400,” I said, flexing my left bicep and right pec.  “And my body fat is around 5 or 6%.”

            “You are made out of muscle.”

            “You like me muscular.  You’ve always said so.”

            “And you went overboard.”

            “You love it.”

            “I wasn’t complaining.  I’m thankful.  It’s just surprising I’m not some sort of 500-pound behemoth to crush and dominate you.”

            “I don’t want to be dominated,” I said.  “But I do want you big enough to put up a fight when we wrestle for top.”

            Oz looked at my undulating muscles, my taut 6-pack, my thick legs, my jutting chest, my bulging arms.  “You are going to win all the time.”  I could see the light in his eyes.  He liked that.

            “I’ll let you win sometimes,” I encouraged him.  “But you’ll have to fight for it first.”

            I walked up to Oz and wrapped my hand around his cock.  “Now let’s see what the damage is here.”  When Oz got fully hard, he nearly came at the sight of it. 

            “Jesus, Ian.  It’s like a fucking log.”

            “Just under 12 inches in length, more like 11.75,” I told him.  “And 9 inches around.”

            Shy of a foot?”

            “What can I say, my subconscious likes having the bigger cock.  I’ve always been the more hung of the two of us.  I guess my subconscious couldn’t stand letting you have a full foot.”  Oz’s cock was harder than I ever remember it being and incredibly thick.  I could feel his heartbeat in my hand.  “Want to take that thing for a ride?” I asked.

            “There’s something we’ve got to try,” Oz said.  “It was our Sunday morning favorite,” he added, opening the door to our shower.

            “I don’t think we’ll both fit in there anymore.”

            “That’s the idea,” Oz said.

            He got in first and turned on the faucet.  I loved watching the water swirl through chest hair and form puddles in his muscles.  The showerhead only came up to his chin, a fact he found delightful.  He beckoned me to come in, so I opened the door.  We both barely fit.  If we stood facing each other, our shoulders were wedged between the wall and the door.  The bathroom filled with steam, and I wriggled until I turned completely around to give Oz access to my asshole.

            He slipped in, wet and ready, and I held myself up against the tiled shower wall.  The first thrust had been so intense that I didn’t know how it could build from there.

            Slowly, as to not break the shower doors, he began fucking me.  As he thrust, he kissed my back.  His hands reached around my waist to play with my abs.  My cock tried to stick out straight in front of me but instead confronted the wall, pressing into it.  Sliding his hands down, Oz grabbed as much of my cock as he could and stroked it up and down as he fucked me gently and lovingly.

            I had never taken a cock this big.  I didn’t know I could take a cock this big.  I guess when you have more ass, you have more ass to fill.

            “I figured out why my cock stopped before 12 inches,” Oz said.

            “Why?” I asked, shivering in pleasure.  His cock had so thoroughly caressed my prostrate that I was ready to go.

            “Because I fit perfectly.  If I were even a little bigger, I’d overfill you,” he said.  “You grew me so I’d be an exact match.  Like a key to your lock.  Like Cinderella’s slipper.”  He ground himself into me, and I came again, silently but intensely, a much less voluminous ejaculation, but one still far larger than I’d ever managed before I grew.  I tightened my ass around his cock.  The added pressure to his cock head caused Oz to come as well.  New to his size, Oz let loose a torrent of booming screams.  He gripped me tightly, and a river of cum burst out of him.

            “That was intense,” he said.  “My knees are shaking.”

            “If you need to collapse,” I soothed him, “I’ll catch you.”

            Oz steadied himself, and we stood there for a few moments in post-orgasmic haze.

            When all the cum had rinsed down the drain, Oz backed off and leaned against the wall of the shower.

            “Is it always that intense?” he asked.

            “I hope so,” I said.

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Chapter 48

            Oz and I curled up in bed.  We weren’t just going to need a new mattress; we were going to need a new bed.  It was too small for us, now.

            “If we can’t even fit in our bed, how are we going to get dressed for the party tomorrow?” Oz asked.  “I mean, today.”

            “Thank you for reminding me,” I said.  I texted Mo the appropriate numbers, and he responded with a thumbs up.

            “Mo will get something for us tomorrow.”

            “That’s good for one day,” Oz said, already thinking about the eventual return to the world.

            “Then we go shopping.  You’re due some time off work, and I’m sure Mr. Carr would approve a last-minute vacation for me.”

            “You really should start calling him Vinnie,” Oz insisted.

            “When he stops signing my paychecks, and not a moment before.”  I kissed Oz on the cheek.  It took some navigating around our enlarged bodies, but I knew we’d get the hang of it.  “Now, let’s get some sleep.  We have a big day tomorrow.”

            “Every day is going to be big from now on,” Oz said.  I could tell from his voice he was already half-asleep.  Factoring in the time change, poor dear had been up for over 24 hours.

            Mo woke us up with an obstreperous knock at 8 AM.  I opened my eyes, and seeing Oz in the bed next to me—his eyes still closed—was the most glorious and heartwarming sight I had ever seen in my life.

            “I’ve got some clothes for the jaybirds,” Mo said cheerily.  “I really don’t want to see my brother-in-law naked, especially if those numbers were correct, so I’m leaving them on the floor outside your door.  Give me two minutes, and I’ll hide in my room.”

            “His room?” Oz said groggily; he still hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

            “It’s what he calls the guest room.”

            With his eyes still closed, his face pressed into the pillow, Oz said, “I love you, Ian, but your brother isn’t moving in with us.”

            “Of course, not.  He’s moving to London in a day or two.”

            “Good,” Oz said.  “Let’s sleep until then.”

            “You two have to stop sniping each other,” I said, slapping Oz’s ass.  He finally sat up.

            “Good morning to you too,” he said.  “Not now, because your brother’s here, but later, when we’re alone, we’ve got to try spanking.  I had no idea,” Oz said.

            I slapped him a second time, and he got out of the bed.  “Later,” he repeated, half-laughing.

            Oz opened the door, reached through for the clothes, and brought three boxes into the room.

            “What could he have found on such short notice?” I wondered aloud.

            One of the boxes had assorted sock and boxer briefs in various sizes and styles.  The other two were labeled.  One said “Eenie,” the other said, “Eenie’s husband.”

            Oz tossed me my box, and I opened it.  The clothes that emerged from my box looked like my favorite outfit from before I had changed: a button-down blue shirt and crisply pressed black dress pants.  “How the…?” I started.

            Oz had a similar expression on his face.  He held up a blue and red checked long-sleeved flannel shirt, a Red Sox t-shirt, and jeans, all in his size.  “These look like my favorite clothes.”

            There was a card at the bottom of my box.  I read it and reported out loud.  “Mo figured out which clothes were our favorites by looking through our photos, online and off.  Then, he raided our closets while I was asleep two nights ago so he could have copies made in our new sizes.”

            “How did he get these made so quickly?”

            “I’m guessing Alexander” I said.  “But for all I know, Mo used magic.”

            “Cayden Todd, out of all the people in the world, can use magic.”  Oz almost sounded disgusted.

            “Barely.  He can barely use magic.”  That’s what I said, but my tone communicated “Behave; he did something kind for us.”

            “I’ll be nice,” Oz said.  He found a card in the bottom of his box.  “My card just says ‘Happy Birthday, Oz.’”  Oz looked right at me.  “When did he stop calling me Austin?”

            “After he called you in Germany that morning.”

            Oz pulled his t-shirt over his head, beaming at how well it fit his size and showed off his arms.  He flexed them, admiring their fullness and power.  “That call?”

            “That call.”

            “All he did was ask me to recite my wedding vows, just as I had written them, word for word.”

            “That’s it?”

            Oz pulled up his jeans, struggling a little bit as they caught his thighs and prodigious ass.  “That’s all.”

            I stood up.  “He made that call so you could convince him that you hadn’t cast the spell on me.”

            “Glad to have proven him wrong.”

            We finished dressing in silence.  It took me longer than I thought it would to get dressed.  My boxer briefs and pants both put up a fight for their lives, I needed a mirror to button my shirt, and I needed Oz’s help to put on my socks because I couldn’t reach my feet.

            “As soon as possible, we are signing you up for yoga or pilates or something stretchy,” Oz said.

            “Agreed.”  I stroked the front of my shirt.  “I’ve missed buttons.  I always feel like I’m in pajamas if my shirt doesn’t button.”

            I stared at myself in the mirror.  The shirt was tailored perfectly—it showed off how wide my chest and shoulders were, and it tapered down to my tiny waist.  My pants swathed my ass, and the dark colors minimized the obscene bulge of my crotch if I looked head-on.  If I turned even slightly to the side, though, there was an obvious protuberance.

            “One change,” Oz said as he stood behind me, admiring the way my clothes accentuated my body.  He reached around to the top three buttons on my shirt and undid them, pulling the collar open a bit.  The shirt now showed off my chest cleavage, and a heavy thatch of chest hair was on full display.  “Perfect,” Oz confirmed.  He leaned over to kiss me on the shoulder.  “Time for breakfast.”

            We made our way into the kitchen and called Mo in to join us for breakfast.

            “I’m glad they fit,” he said.

            I ran over to him and grabbed him in a hug. 

            “What’s this about?” he asked, trying to hug me back, but finding few places he could put his hands.

            I lifted him off the ground.  Mo was surprisingly light.  With a small laugh, I let go of him.  “For the clothes,” I said.  Then, at a quieter tone, I said, “And just checking."

            "And?" he said, grabbing some plates from the cabinet.

            “I saw no futures.  I am firmly in the present.”

            “Glad to hear it,” he said, heading to the dining room.

            “We never cleared off the table last night,” I said at my normal volume.  “Would you do that?”

            “Sure thing, brother dearest,” he replied, leaving the kitchen.

            After starting the coffee and putting some toast in the toaster, Oz went to help Mo in the dining room.

            “You’re calling me Oz now,” he said.

            “Yep,” Mo responded.

            “Does that mean I should call you Mo?”

            “If you want.”

            “What do you want?” Oz asked.

            Mo’s voice was hardly audible, but I heard him say, “Let’s try Mo.  See if it sticks.”

            “Alright, then.  Mo.”

            We lingered over breakfast.  The conversation drifted from one topic to the next.  Everything was light and frothy.  It actually was a bit of a turn when Oz asked, “So, Mo.  I hear you and Alexander are together?”

            “Kinda.  Sorta.”  Mo said.  “Yes.”

            “How are you going to make that work?  Ian tells me you’re moving to London.”

            “For now, we’re going to try long distance.  Alexander got approved for a vacation in May, and I’m footing the bill.  If at the end of May things are still going serious, well, there’s demands for drafters everywhere.  I could probably find a high-paying drafting job right here in Boston.”

            “And if you like London?” I asked.

            “If Alexander and I get really serious, I mean really serious, he’ll have access to his trust fund.  Then he can move wherever he wants.”

            “What does that mean?” Oz asked me.

            “Alexander gets complete control over his trust fund if he marries.”

            “Really?” Oz said.  “You’ve only been dating for two weeks and Mr. Cayden Todd—Mr. ‘Marriage-Killed-My-Brother’ Todd—is already thinking about marriage?”

            Mo blushed, then mumbled, “I’m not not thinking about it.  It’s too soon, but…”

            Oz tousled Mo’s hair.  As Oz was unused to his new strength, Mo was pushed down to the table a little bit.  Oz apologized, “I’m teasing.  Sorry.  Of course, it’s too soon.  I’m just glad it’s a possibility.”

            Mo relaxed, and breakfast went back to airy, breezy subjects.

            Before we knew it, it was already 11 AM.

            “The party’s going to start in an hour,” I said.

            “Who throws a party at noon on a Saturday?” Mo asked.

            “People with children, people who don’t like going out at night, people in their 50s,” Oz rattled off.

            “Ah.  You had him move it to noon.”

            “Did I ever.  I thought I’d be fighting serious jet lag.”

            “You’re not?” I asked, bringing the dishes to the kitchen.

            “Perk of the spell.”

            “I’ll let my future clients now,” Mo said.

            “You’re welcome,” Oz replied.

            “So, how are we getting to this party?  My car hasn’t been driven in six months, and I doubt Ian and I can fit into the Miata.”

            Eenie can’t fit into the Miata,” Mo said.

            “About that,” I said, and explained the rented SUV.

            “Smart,” Oz said, rubbing my beard affectionately.  “And here I thought I was going to have to rent a flatbed truck.”

            “With the resale value on my Miata and your BMW, I’m sure we can get two SUVs for almost nothing.”

            “Pragmatic matters can wait until tomorrow,” Oz said.

            “Yes,” Mo echoed.  “Today, we party.”

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Chapter 49

            The party was in full swing when Mo, Oz, and I arrived.  Mr. Carr had rented a function hall not too far from the office.  The food, decorations, and music were a bit stiff for my tastes, but Oz was having the time of his life, so I kept it to myself. 

            The guests all acknowledged that we’d gotten taller and bigger, no one seemed to find it odd. 

            I got to meet a lot of Oz’s old college buddies.  Sinclair even showed up, bringing his husband and two daughters.  Sinclair, it turned out, was his first name.  Everyone was friendly and approachable, curious to find out about the brave young squire who won fair Oz’s hand.  They remarked at how big and gorgeous I was.  Most of them asked to feel a muscle or touch my abs.  A few wanted me to lift them.  So, I did—one handed.  It was a relief to touch people again without having pornographic futures flash before my eyes.  Of course, with Oz and me looking so good, everyone wanted pictures with us.  I posed for a thousand pictures; squeezing into frame in a group shot is impossible when you’re a group all by yourself, but we managed.  Pressed up tight against all these people, I realized just how hard my body was.  Everyone else around me was so soft and pliable.  Everyone else but Oz, that is.

            During the party, Mr. Carr pulled me aside.  “You don’t have to languish in middle management forever.  I could pull some strings and get you a promotion.  Heck, you could even have Hugo’s post.  Find a more compassionate way to hire and pay our temps.”

            “You’d fire Hugo?”

            Mr. Carr shook his head.  “No.  I’d either ship him off to another job or talk him into early retirement.  He did nothing illegal.  Doesn’t mean we can’t do better as a company.”

            “If you promoted me, I’d have to call you Vinnie, wouldn’t I?”

            “All my top-level executives do.”

            “That would make Oz happy.  And with all the new stuff we’re going to have to buy, the extra income wouldn’t hurt.”

            “Was that a yes?”

            “That was an I’ll-think-about-it,” I said.

            “It means you’d be Garrett Duarte’s boss again.”

            “Oh, he’d hate that,” I said. 

            “It also means you’d no longer be responsible for coddling Vernon Bailey.  That’d be Garrett’s job.”

            An evil thought ran through my brain.  If I got Garrett a gym membership, he and Vernon would be perfect for each other.  “You’re very tempting.  But I’m about to take a few weeks off to enjoy these new bodies with Oz.”

            “I did the same thing after my 50th.  Enjoy.  Let me know when you get back.”

            I nodded.

            He patted my arm, but before he left, he said, “Is there any way we could convince your brother to stay on?  Our legal department could really use a mind like his.”

            “I doubt it.  He’s dead set to move to London.  Besides, he doesn’t really practice corporate law.”

            “I figured.  But it was worth a shot.”

            With that, Mr. Carr left me, and I rejoined the party.

            About two hours into the party, Oz and I were called to the dance floor to dance to Oz’s favorite song.  It was a slow dance, naturally, and with our new sizes, it was more of a sex scene than a romantic, but it ended with me dipping Oz and planting a kiss.

            The cake was cut, the songs were sung, and the gifts were opened.  Everyone who came had apparently gotten the memo to give us gift cards to tailors and clothing stores.  Some of them were even specifically for big and tall men.  Sinclair had the best gift: a card for a home good store and the phone number for a good architect.

            But all good things come to an end, and the guests left one by one until it was just Mr. Carr, Oz, Mo, and me.  Mr. Carr and Oz shook hands, and hugged, and patted each other’s backs before Oz said we could go.  Mr. Carr was going to stay behind to make sure the clean-up went without a hitch, so I turned to Mo.

            “You coming back with us?”

            “I’m going to stay with Alexander for the rest of my time in the States.  Exploit as much time before I move to London.”

            “I get it.  Please make sure to see us again before your flight,” I said.

            “Will do, Eenie.”

            I hugged him goodbye.  “Love you, Mo.”

            When the hug finished, Oz put out his hand.  “Mo,” he said.

            “Oz,” he replied, and they shook hands.

            “Don’t be a stranger,” Oz said, and Mo left.

            On the drive home from the party, I marveled that the SUV was actually big enough for us.  Our shoulders bumped into each other, but we both fit.

            I was content.  My brother and my husband were getting along.  My good friend had a blossoming new romance.  I had a new respect from my employers.  And my husband and I had never been closer.  I don’t really know how thing got there, but they were close to perfect.

            “It was a great party,” I said.

            “If I had to have a birthday party,” Oz said, “that was the party to have.”

            “I’m glad you had a good time.”  I leaned over to kiss him, and he almost swerved into oncoming traffic.  “We’ll get better with practice,” I assured him. 

            Oz burst into a fit of laughter.

            “What’s so funny?”

            “Oh, nothing.  It won’t matter any time soon.”

            “What do you mean?”  I asked.

            “I just got a wicked idea for your 50th birthday.”

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Thank you! Outstanding! I truly Enjoyed all of it. One of the best muscle growth stories I’ve read. Can’t wait for another! 

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LOVE the writing!  From Part 46:  This story has been a terrific example of muscle growth, humor and character development.  Thnak you, TQuintA! 

==============================================================

“You are made out of muscle.”

            “You like me muscular.  You’ve always said so.”

            “And you went overboard.”

            “You love it.”

            “I wasn’t complaining.  I’m thankful.  It’s just surprising I’m not some sort of 500-pound behemoth to crush and dominate you.”

            “I don’t want to be dominated,” I said.  “But I do want you big enough to put up a fight when we wrestle for top.”

            Oz looked at my undulating muscles, my taut 6-pack, my thick legs, my jutting chest, my bulging arms.  “You are going to win all the time.”  I could see the light in his eyes.  He liked that.

            “I’ll let you win sometimes,” I encouraged him.  “But you’ll have to fight for it first.”

=================================================================

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