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July 28th - One Last Thing (Additional Material Added 8/4/20)


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TQuintA

Chapter 1

            As I slid the white chinos over my ass, I had to struggle a little bit.  These were my favorite dress pants because they were tight in that sexy way that hugged my ass, but they’d never quite strangled my ass like this before.  I walked over to the full-sized mirror on the closet door and looked at my ass in the pants as best I could.  I looked a little thick, like my workouts had been returning some serious dividends.

            “Danny,” I cried out, turning from one side to the other, “come in here.”

            My husband came into the bedroom, frantically adjusting his tie and looking a little miffed that I’d called him in.  “We’re going to be late,” he said, kicking a half-empty box aside.  We’d just moved into this house five days ago from an apartment halfway across California, and we hadn’t finished unpacking yet.  He’d just gotten a new job at ChorrTek, a multinational corporation, and they’d paid for us to relocate to the planned community just outside their Palo Alto headquarters.  As far as I was aware, the community didn’t even have an actual name: everyone just called it the ChorrTek planned community.  I had been sad to leave behind the small number of friends I had in LA—it takes me forever to warm up to new people—but it was the right move for both of us.  Besides, the house was beautiful, if gigantic.  In addition to two guest bedrooms, there were just a lot of rooms.  It had a living room, and a den, and a TV room.  When I was growing up, all three of those were the same room.  I was pretty sure we didn’t own enough furniture to fill it.

            “Did these pants shrink, or did my ass get bigger?” I asked, turning around slowly in a complete circle and sticking out my rear end to give him every possible vantage.  When I was facing him again, I stopped and held my hands out to the sides for his assessment.

            “You’re not even dressed yet?” he asked.  He picked my long-sleeved blue pullover off the bed where I had put it and threw it at me.

            Laughing, I caught the shirt and slung it over one shoulder.  “You didn’t answer the question.”

            Danny rolled his eyes in frustration and made a face of pure consternation.  “Your ass looks great, RT.  It always looks great.”

            “Still not answering the question,” I teased in a sing-song.

            “Okay, yes, your ass looks bigger.  Keep up the good work, tiger.  Now will you get dressed?  I don’t want to be late.”

            I zipped up my pants and put on my shirt.  “Get over here,” I said, beckoning him with my hand.  “I want to make sure we match.”

            “What?” he asked, trudging over like a toddler who’s been told to pick up his toys.

            I put my arm around his shoulder, and held him close to me.  He had spent hours trying to wheedle me into a suit and tie, and the only way I’d gotten him to give up was to promise that my outfit would match his.  He was wearing a tan suit with a bright blue tie.  “Look at us,” I said, pointing in the mirror.  Danny was slightly taller than me—an inch at most—and had classic Mediterranean features he inherited from his mother’s side of the family, complete with curly black hair on the top of his head that he spent a lot of haircuts and grooming products to keep as flat as possible, thick facial hair that needed twice-daily shaving to keep him as smooth as he wanted, deep chestnut eyes that shined a little behind contact lenses (because he was too vain to wear glasses), and the appearance of a year-round tan.  My Danny was thin, but wiry, with soft, delicate features like a Botticelli.  He looked model handsome in his suit.  I, on the other hand, had gotten everything from the British Isles courtesy of my father: straight brown hair that I kept cut close to my head, a beard that took two weeks to fully come in, pale blue eyes, and skin that only ever burned, never tanned.  However, I was naturally stocky and had a chiseled face and broad jaw, and I’d dedicated the last month and a half trying to get back into the top-notch shape I’d had when I played college baseball.

            As we looked at ourselves in the mirror, Danny softened a little, and added, “We’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

            “Just let me splash on some cologne,” I said as Danny groaned in impatience, “and then we can head out.”

            “You’re stalling on purpose,” Danny said, half-jokingly.

            “It’s your work thing, darling.  I don’t exactly relish going.”

            “It’s just this one last thing, and then you’re free,” he said.

            “Yeah, yeah,” I responded, closing the bathroom door before me.  At least a dozen different events had been “one last thing.”  There was so much schmoozing involved in getting him this job at ChorrTek.  It was on the cutting edge of technology, but it was such a boy’s club.  I hadn’t seen a single female executive at any of the meetings or functions, and there certainly weren’t any on its website.  Danny had to basically swindle them into hiring their first out gay executive. 

            “It’s a welcome party.”

            “You’re not the only new employee,” I reminded him.

            “I’m the only new executive,” he chimed back.  “They’re essentially throwing the party for me,” Danny explained for the tenth time.  “They expect my husband to be there.”

            Only mildly annoyed, I called through the door, “I’m going to spend the night making small talk with strangers while you try to ingratiate yourself with your new coworkers and bosses.  No part of that is fun for me.” 

            “I’m the first gay executive at this company, ever, and they hired me from the outside rather than promote one of their own.  It’s a big deal,” he repeated.

            “Is that so?” I said half under my breath as though this were new information.  As I was putting on the cologne, looking at myself in the harsh, overhead bathroom lighting, I looked at myself again.  My arms looked thicker, my chest looked thicker, my neck looked thicker, my shoulders even looked a little broader.  I looked like I’d put on some mass.  I decided to step on the scale.  176.  This morning I was just over 170.  What the hell?

            “Is this scale broken?” I asked Danny.  I could hear that he’d been pacing in the bedroom because his footsteps suddenly stopped.

            “What are you on about now?” he asked, his footsteps starting up again.  He came into the bathroom without even knocking.  When he saw me on the scale, I could see the effort he exerted to prevent himself from making an exasperated grimace.  “Why are you on the scale?”

            “I know I’ve been working out a lot, but this scale says I put on five pounds today.  Today.  In one day.  That doesn’t happen.”  I flexed my forearm and bicep of my left arm in front of me, turning it one way and then the other.  I looked thicker.

            Danny grunted.  “I should’ve waited until after the party, but I was impatient and I wanted to make a good impression.”

            That was a confusing response.  “I don’t follow.”

            He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to me.  There was a new app that had ChorrTek’s logo on it.  “All the executives get this app.  It’s in-house only, though.  They never plan to take it to the general market.  It’s the latest in body mod technology.  They swear it’s super-scientific.  But I’m just the ad guy, so it sounds like magic to me.”

            “A body mod app?”

            “It’s the ultimate employee perk.  It allows you to make some tweaks.”

            “And so you tweaked my body?”

            “Well, it’s tuned to your body.  At your check-up to switch over to my employee healthcare, that shot you got was the corresponding hardware.  My app can only make tweaks on you.  No one else.”

            “I again say, so you tweaked my body?”

            “All of the execs at the company have this app and use it to tweak their wives.  It’s like real-life Face Tune.”

            “But you didn’t tweak my face,” I reminded him.

            “I want to put my best foot forward.  I had to use the app eventually, or they’d see it as an insult.  It could’ve waited until after the party, yeah, but I got impatient.  They’ve only ever used it on their wives.  They’re curious to see how it works on a man.  It’s not my fault their spouses were doorstops and you’re drop dead sexy.  You left very little room for improvement.”

            I looked back in the mirror and flexed.  “I look good with five more pounds of mass.”

            “Hot as hell,” he said.  “With all the working out you’ve been doing, I figured you wouldn’t mind a little boost.”  He stood behind me and began kissing the back of my neck and behind my ears.  Even though he’d shaved an hour ago, I could already feel some of his facial hair starting to scratch my soft, tender skin.

            “Dammit,” I said, falling back into his waiting arms. 

            “Can we go to the party now.”

            I turned my neck and head to kiss him on the cheek.  “Alright.”

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TQuintA

Chapter 2

            The party was held on the patio area of a swanky hotel.  As we walked up the path around the hotel to the patio area, I held my breath a little.  It was a warm April night, but I could see there were portable heaters around in case it got chilly.  Honestly, I had to latch on to that one piece of obvious functional furniture because everything else about this setting was over-the-top ritzy.  I am the child of a school custodian and a bus driver.  Such opulent places made me uncomfortable.

            Before we could situate ourselves at the party, a man with a clipboard came up to us.  “Welcome,” he said.  “You must be some of the new guys.  Who are you and what do you do?” he said, to Danny.

            “Yes, I am,” Danny reached out his hand to shake it, and the man gladly took it.  “Daniel Eberhart.  I’m the new head of advertising.”

            The man said his name and what he did at the company, but I had decided to make a concerted effort to learn no one’s name that night, so I wasn’t listening.  With a screwed-on smile, he turned to me, extended his hand, and said, “And who are you and what do you do?”

            “RT Wells.  Middle school math teacher,” I said, shaking his hand.

            “No, I mean, what do you do here?” the smiling man continued shaking my hand.

            “Nothing,” I said, breaking up the longest handshake of my life.  “I’m here with my husband."

            "I’d heard the company hired a gay executive,” the smiling man said.  “I’ve been here forever, but I never expected to work here long enough to see that.  Which one’s your husband?” he asked, looking around.

            Danny coughed politely.

            “Right, that’s why you arrived together.  I was confused because you have different last names.”

            “We also have different first names,” I said.

            Smiling man laughed, and escorted Danny to a crowd of men dressed in different shades of gray.  In his tan suit, he really stuck out.  Standing alone by myself for a second, my discomfort grew.  “Guess I’ll go talk to the wives, then,” I said, a little too loudly.

            I saw a group of gorgeously dressed women standing around a table, each holding a half-finished drink.  They had glazed-over eyes and unnatural postures.  “So, this is where the executives’ wives are?” I asked, sliding up to an empty seat at the table.

            All of their eyes converged on me at once.  As I looked from one face to the other, I realized that Danny had not lied; all of these women had been tweaked.  They all looked uncannily perfect.  Plump lips, impossibly curvaceous proportions, not an ounce of fat.  They looked like if female porn stars did shampoo commercials.  They began looking me up and down.  Some assessed me as a threat, some looked at me as a curiosity, but most looked at me with salacious bedroom eyes.

            “Are you a new employee?” one of them asked. 

            “The employees are scared to talk to the executive’s wives,” another replied.

            “Hi,” I said as charmingly as I could.  “I’m RT Wells.  My husband is the new head of advertising.”

            They all put their drinks down as though they’d rehearsed and then swarmed around me, spouting a storm of sentences I could only half-hear.

            “You’re the husband?”

            “I thought it was a rumor.”

            “You’re a man.”

            “I didn’t expect a manly man.”

            “Ladies,” I said, pushing my arms out to regain some semblance of personal space.  “Have you never met a gay person before?”

            “Of course, we have.”

            “We certainly have.”

            “But not here.”

            “No, not here.”

            “Never here.”

            “Here, it’s only ever been women.”

            “And wives.”

            That last one hit my ears like a badly sung note.  “Wives are women,” I said.  They laughed.

            I might have been there for thirty seconds or eight years; I’m not entirely sure.  But every time I tried to start a conversation, I was met by a chorus of overlapping and only slightly different responses.  Occasionally, they would laugh.  Always at the same time.  The conversation was easier when I treated them like a hive mind rather than individual women, but easy conversation and pleasant conversation are not the same thing.  On five separate occasions, I had to physically remove their hands from my shoulder or arms.

            After the tenth time I made them laugh as a group, I felt the strangest sensation.  It felt like I was flexing involuntarily, but I wasn’t flexing.  When I looked down, I saw that my chest was getting a little thicker, pushing out the front of my shirt a little bit.  My shoulders were pushing out my shoulders a little bit further, and my arms were thickening in their sleeves, taking up more and more space.  My pants, which had already been tight, got even tighter.  I could feel my ass engorge until it pressed hard on the fabric, my legs swelling to match their new size.  All in all, I looked like I’d put on somewhere between five and ten more pounds.  Considering, however, that I’d already put on five before leaving home, my recent workouts, and the fact that these clothes had started a little tight, I now looked like I had been poured into these clothes.  I was frozen in place, admiring the new muscles that had poured into me seemingly out of the blue.

            “Your husband is calling you,” one of the women said.

            “You should go to him.”

            “Yes.  He’s calling you.”

            Their bizarreness was enough to snap me out of my reverie, and so I looked around to find Danny.  He was across the patio in a group of at least a dozen men sitting at a table covered in glasses of whiskey and ashtrays.  He was waving me over with a dopey grin on his face.

            “Ladies,” I said to make my exit.

            “Goodbye, Mr. Wells,” they all said, practically at once.

            No more unnerved than I already was, I walked over to my husband’s table.  Because of how tight the pants were, I had a little strut in my step, and because I was unused to the size of my chest and shoulders, there was a little swagger to my strut.  When I realized how I must have looked, I leaned into it and sex-stalked my away over to my husband like a model down the catwalk.

            When I got to his table, I could tell that he was a little hot under the collar, his face red from my display.

            “Hello, darling,” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

            “Hey, tiger,” he said, putting his hand behind my head to pull me in for a more passionate kiss.  When it ended, he lingered by my ear and whispered, “Holy fuck, that was hot,” to which I just smirked.

            “Have a seat, Mr. Eberhart,” one of the other executives said, offering me a glass of whiskey.

            “It’s Mr. Wells,” I said, taking the glass.  “We kept our last names.”

            “How modern!” a different executive said.

            “Modern seemed the fitting way to go, what with us being gay and all,” I said, smoothing over his indelicacy. 

            The executives genuinely laughed.

            “Please, Mr. Wells,” the executive closest to me said, pulling out an empty seat.

            The pants were really tight, and I heard a seam or two groan as I sat, but I was able to sit down.  I worried I was stuck down, but I was down.  Once seated, I looked around.  Half of the executives looked like frat boys ten years later; the other half looked like Victorian bankers.  Not a DILF among them.

            I took a sip of the whiskey.  “Damn,” I remarked. “You guys don’t skimp on the drinks.  That is smooth.”

            “Always good to meet a man who can appreciate fine whiskey,” one of the older executives said.

            “The guys want to get to know you,” Danny encouraged.

            “Well, what do you want to know?” I asked, batting my hands on the table like it was a drum.

            “For starters, your first name,” the one who’d first invited me to sit said.

            “Danny didn’t tell you?”

            Danny shook his head.

            “I go by RT Wells.”

            “Not Arthur?” one of the banker-types asked.

            “My name’s not Arthur.  I’m Rupert Thomas Wells.  RT are my initials.”

            “How butch,” one of the frat types said. 

            Butch?  That was so out of the blue that I didn’t even know what decade it was anymore.  “Well,” I replied, “I got sick of being called Roop.”

            “Did Dan give you that nickname?”

            “The only nickname Danny gave me was tiger,” I said, patting Danny’s hand and winking at the executive who’d asked.  Half of them laughed.  Had I made a joke?  “I’ve been RT since third grade.”

            “So, RT, what do you do?” one of the frat guys asked.

            “Up until recently he was a middle school math teacher,” Danny answered for me.

            I knew that tone of voice.  Danny was embarrassed by the real answer.  “I’m currently unemployed,” I corrected.  “I put this one through business school.  Two different ones,” I added, pulling Danny’s arm closer to me, practically putting it in my lap.  “Right out of college, I got a job at a private middle school, and I paid for our apartment and his school so he could get his degrees and do those internships.  When money was really tight, I took a second job unloading grocery trucks.  It took ten years, but all that hard work paid off.  When he got the job here, we decided it was his turn to support me.”

            “Support you to do what?”

            “Figure out the answer to that question.  Danny was always the driven one.  He knew he wanted to work at a big company like ChorrTek and take over the world when he was still in diapers.  I was never so focused.  And then I kinda stopped looking for my passion at 22 because someone had to pay the bills.”

            “And now that I can support both of us,” Danny interjected, “More than support both of us,” he added, raising his glass to the man at the head of the table (one of the banker types with salt and pepper hair), “RT’s going to take some time to figure out what he wants to do.  What his passions are.  There’s a lot of things he wants to try.”  He turned to look at me.  “The list is up to what, 40?”

            “43,” I corrected.  “This morning I added yoga, gardening, and calligraphy.”

            A handful of the executives laughed, including the man at the head of the table.  Why did they keep laughing when I hadn’t made any jokes?

            “What do you think of our app?” the man at the head of the table asked.

            I looked down at my chest and shoved it forward a bit, flexing my arms for added effect.  “I think I’m going to need some bigger clothes.” I said.  More laughter.  Maybe I should add stand-up to my list, make it an even 44.

            “Would it be impertinent if I asked to feel them?” the man at the head of the table asked.

            “Why not?” I responded, shrugging.  “Your wives have already felt me up.”

            The table was suddenly shocked and angry.

            “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I soothed.  I picked up my husband’s hand, kissed it tenderly, and returned it to my lap, purring, “I am absolutely no threat.”

            That broke the tension.  I stood up, mindful not to burst the seam at the back of my pants, walked over to the man at the head of the table, and flexed my bicep in front of him.  Gingerly, he poked it with his index finger.

            “It’s not fragile,” I said, taking his wrist and moving his hand so his whole hand was circling my bicep as much as it could.  “Squeeze as hard as you can.”

            The man squeezed as much as he could, but it didn’t dent.

            “Satisfied?” I asked him.

            “Very much so,” he said, letting go of my arm.

            “And that’s all from the app?” one of the frat types asked.

            “Some of it is,” I answered, walking back to my seat.

            “RT has always been fit and muscular,” Danny said, practically bragging.  “The guys on his college baseball team called him Ripped Rupert.”

            “Once,” I said, stopping behind my chair.  “They called me that once.”

            “You played college ball?” the frat type closest to me asked.

            “Sure did.  Go Bruins.” I said.

            “That explains the blue,” chirped one of the executives, one wearing a blue and gold tie.

            “You’re not going to do the 8-clap or something, now are you?”

            Again, half the table laughed.

            “You, gentlemen, have been lovely,” I said, “but I’m going to let you have this guy back,” I tousled Danny’s hair, and he leaned into it appreciatively.  “I was told there was a dinner at this function, and so I am going on the hunt for something more substantial than cigars and whiskey.”  Again, they laughed. These men would laugh at the alphabet.  I decided to push the envelope ever-so-gently.  “Feel free to stare at my ass as I walk away.  I won’t tell your wives.”  They all laughed that time, heartily and loudly.

            I walked away smiling.

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TQuintA

Chapter 3

            When we got home from the party, I’d barely locked the front door of the house before Danny came up behind me and threw his arms around me.

            “Tonight was amazing!  Thank you!”

            I did my best to return the hug, but my back was to his chest, and it made for an awkward hug.  “No sweat, darling.  Glad they liked you.”

            He began walking me to the bedroom, not taking his arms from around me.  “It wasn’t just me they loved. You made an amazing impression.  Jack and Gary and Jon P. wouldn’t stop talking about you all night, and Stan and Alan are super jazzed a real jock is here for before the NCAA tournament kicks into high gear.  They want us to watch some Bruins games with them.”

            I kept walking to the bedroom as Danny steered me like a marionette.  “Glad to hear it, but I don’t know any of their names.  I spent five minutes with them.”

            “Right.  Of course not.”  He started kissing the side and back of my neck.

            “You are really riled up,” I said, cozying up to the kisses.  I love it when he kisses me on the back of the beck.  I abso-fucking-lutely love it.

            “How could I not be?  They’re probably going to put me on the VP fast track, and then who knows?”

            We’d reached the bedroom, and he was still clinging to me.  “You can let go now, darling,” I said, patting his arms.

            “I don’t think I can,” he said, and he began to feel me up and down.  “I didn’t realize that all this extra meat would make you feel sensational.”

            He rubbed my chest, and my nipples got hard.  He ground his pelvis into my ass, and, even trapped in that tight fabric prison, my cock got even harder.

            “You want to take this new body for a test ride?”

            Danny let go, spun me around, ripped off my shirt, and began kissing me so quickly that I lost my balance, and we tumbled to the bed, never breaking the embrace as we fell and bounced.  After a few minutes of that, my cock was so excited that it wanted to stand up and join the fun, but there was nowhere for it to go.  I pushed Danny away and said, “If you want to go any further, you’re going to have to peel these pants off of me.  I don’t think I can take them off by myself.

            Like an excited teen, Danny jumped out of bed, took off his clothes, and turned to look at me.  He had small, tight muscles all over his body, and a thicket of curly hair all over his body, especially thick on his chest and at his crotch.  He had those parallel sections going down his stomach—if he really got into crunches, he'd have a six-pack in a month.  He had well-defined but not overly large thighs and calves from his morning workouts and weekend biking.  God, I loved his body.  The fine pelt of hair, the warmth and hardness—I could get lost in his body.  But it was his lips that sealed the deal.  The man could do wonders with his lips.  As I took in his beauty, his overly thick 6.5-inch cock was dripping, and his face had sin written all over it.  “I have a better idea,” he said, taking his phone from his coat pocket.

            “What are you even thinking?” I asked, as I felt the involuntary flex happening again.  Lying down on the bed, I could actually feel my shoulders spreading away from each other.  My arms, always my best feature, looked incredibly thick. I looked down, and my pecs were large, red and swollen.  I even had some abs forming.  They were faint, but I hadn’t had abs since my second year of teaching.  The pants, though, were excruciatingly tight.

            “Please stop,” I said as the pain grew, especially in my cock and balls.  My legs looked like overstuffed sausages in white casings.  “These pants are going to hurt me before they…” and then we both heard the seams rip, and I suddenly felt relief and let out a moaning sigh.

            “That was fucking pornographic,” Danny said as he came over to rip the rest of my pants off of me.  I just lay there and let him strip me.  I was too busy feeling myself up and reveling in the release of being free from those pants.  Once I was completely free, my own five-inch cock bobbed and drooled in appreciation.

            In a flash, Danny grabbed a bottle of lube from our bedside table (one of the first things we’d unpacked) and got be good and lubed up.  He was like an animal unleashed.  Once he’d slathered us both good, he was in me and buried to the hilt.  He pounded away at me more aggressively than he had in years, and I was in heaven.  I came nearly instantly, but Danny kept going.  My breath grew heavy like during an intense workout, and Danny’s beautiful skin turned a glistening maroon from the exertion.  When he came, he came with such force and such loud screams.  Danny was always a screamer (just ask any of our old neighbors from the apartment complex), but this was loud even for Danny.

            When he finished cumming, before I could even say anything, he looked at my still-erect cock, rolled onto his back, and spread his legs.  He grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table, and tossed it at me saying, “Your turn.”

            I caught the bottle, and then brought myself up to rest on my elbows.  “I already had my turn.  I had my turn before you had your turn.”

            “No.  Fuck me.  I really want you to fuck me tonight.”

            This was a special occasion.  Not that he was exclusively a top, but it was a rare day indeed when he wanted me to fuck him up the ass.  Christmases and birthdays rare.

            He began writhing on the sheets, almost pleading.  “C’mon, tiger.  Please.”

            “I just want to go to bed,” I said honestly.

            “It’ll be the last thing.  I swear.  Tonight has been so amazing, this whole week has.  Everything we’ve planned is starting, and I’m just so wired I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep until you fuck me right and proper.”

            I answered him by squeezing the lube over my cock and my left hand so I could get him nice and wet.

            Once he was prepped, I rolled over on top of him.  “Ready?” I asked.

            He nodded wordlessly, and I plunged my cock in.  Because of how rarely he let me go near his ass, it was nice and tight, and I could feel him grip me.  I could tell from how hot he was inside that he wasn’t exaggerating: he needed to be fucked.

            I began thrusting in and out, and he lifted his shoulders off the sheet, craning his neck backwards so the top of his head stayed in contact with the bed.  His right arm was under the pillow, the other was splayed off to the side.  Every other time I’d topped Danny, he’d kept his eyes closed tight.  But tonight, his eyes were wide open and he was contorting himself so he could look at my heaving chest as I plowed into him.  I’d always had a good ten or fifteen more pounds of muscle than Danny; it’s one of the things he finds attractive about me.  But with my augmented muscles, the difference was stark.

            I picked up some speed, but then there was something odd about my erection.  It felt like I was getting an erection, even though I already had an erection.  Danny began grunting louder, and his splayed hand started gripping at the sheets.  I felt like my thrusts took longer in and out.  The weird erection sensation intensified, and Danny felt impossibly tight.  I looked down to see what the hell was happening, and my dick was bigger.  Because of the angle and it being mostly inside Danny, I couldn’t tell how big it was, but it looked much thicker than I’d ever seen it.  I pulled back as far as it would normally take to completely leave, and I couldn’t see the head of my cock; it was still inside my husband’s ass.

            The hand that had been under the pillow came out into the open, holding his cell phone.

            “I see your game,” I said, thrusting even harder.  “In that case,” I trailed off because all of my energy was going into fucking my husband like he’d never been fucked before.  He started screaming in unbridled, manic ecstasy, gripping my oversized cock with his ass.  The pressure was too much, and I erupted too.  I’m not a screamer like my husband—I just breathe heavily and produce a lot of CO2 when I climax, and this fuck had me huffing and puffing like a locomotive.

            When we both reached our peak, I rolled off of him and did everything I could to catch my breath.  Danny threw an arm around me and said, “I love you.”

            As soon as I had my breath back, I returned the sentiment and grabbed Danny’s arm tighter around me.  Entwined like that, we almost immediately fell asleep.

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Chapter 4

            When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in the bed.  I could hear Danny cooking breakfast in the distance.  Stretching and scratching myself, I walked to the bathroom, still naked from the night before and enjoying the size of this enlarged body.  I peed without really opening my eyes, but when I went to wash my hands, I had to.

            The person staring back at me from the bathroom mirror startled me.  He was a seriously built fucker.  I guess that meant I was a seriously built fucker.  My pecs were separate, square, and full, my shoulders were rounded and big, my arms were thick and full.  I looked like I’d been seriously weightlifting for five years, not five weeks.

            I got on the bathroom scale, reveling at just how thick my legs were, my thighs starting to round out.

            188.

            The biggest I’d ever gotten when I was playing baseball in college was 183.  I was officially bigger than I’d ever been in my life. 

            The thought was hot, and my cock woke up.

            “Jesus!” I shouted, louder than I intended.  My cock had always been on the small side of average, and the appendage sticking out of my crotch could not be described as small at all.  As if Danny had predicted this exact scenario, there was a ruler sitting on the ledge of the sink.  I pressed it against my stiffening member, and my eyes grew wide as my cock grew to 7.5 inches.  I was bigger than Danny.  I put the ruler back on the sink, and wrapped my hand around my shaft.  I was thicker than Danny too.  I felt my balls draw up as my erection intensified, and even those had grown to the size of small eggs.

            I splashed some cold water on my cock in the hopes that would douse the erection, and then I raced back into the bedroom.  Danny’s phone was on the bedside table, so I picked it up and typed in the password.

            “What’s the damage?” Danny called from the kitchen.  I could hear him walking down the hallway.

            “Seven and a half,” I said.  Danny’s phone didn’t unlock.

            “Awesome,” Danny said, opening the door.  His hair was still wet from his shower, and his skin was warm and glowing.  He was wearing his bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee.  “You’re officially the big guy there too.”  He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

            “Darling, is your phone password still your birthday?  ‘Cause it’s not working.” I said, typing the password in again as I remembered it.

            “I changed the password.  ChorrTek suggested it.  I also changed all my email passwords, and all that jazz.”  He put the coffee on the bedside table and went to put on his work clothes.

            “What’s your new password?” I asked.

            “Why do you want to know?” he retorted.  “Think I hooked up with a cute guy between last night and this morning?”

            “Nothing like that.  I just want to go back down to my real size.”

            Danny turned around and looked me dead in the eyes.  “Why on Earth would you want to do that?”

            “Fun is fun and all,” I said, “but it’s time to put our toys away.  I have boxes to unpack, I have to get to the grocery store and the hardware store.”

            “And?” Danny asked.

            “And I’d liked to be dressed to do those things.”

            “I’m sure you’ve got some clothes that still fit.  And you can make your first stop buying some new clothes that fit this new body.”

            “Danny…” I started, but he interrupted.

            “We can afford the new clothes now, tiger.”

            “It’s not about the money.  It’s just, this isn’t my body.”

            “You’ve been working out like a mad fiend to get back into shape.  Now you’re bigger and better than ever.  Where’s the bad?”

            “I didn’t earn it.”

            “Yes, you really did,” Danny said, taking the phone from me.  “You earned it by putting me through two masters’ programs, and supporting me as I worked those unpaid internships, and sitting through all those boring office parties while I networked, and wowing my bosses last night.  You spent a decade grading middle school math tests for me.  You earned every last pound.  In fact,” he unlocked his phone and began tapping at the screen.

            As I felt that involuntary flexing sensation, the room seemed to get a little smaller.  Danny too.  Neither of us was short.  At just a tick over six feet, Danny had always been maybe an inch taller than me, but that was clearly not the case anymore.

            “Now you’re the big man in all ways.  More hung, more buff, more tall.”  He smiled, and his face radiated with lust and pride.

            I walked over to him to try to take the phone back.  It was so weird being just a little bit taller than Danny.

            He pulled his phone away from me and turned around.  “Not enough?” he asked, and suddenly it felt like I was doing a thousand crunches all at once.  When the feeling abated, I looked down and saw that my waist had pulled in about an inch and I now had a shredded six pack and a noticeable Adonis belt.

            “What the fuck?” I walked over to the mirror, and all of my muscles were well defined and shredded.  Veins and striations stuck out in places where I’d never seen them, and my arms—my thick, burly arms—looked powerful enough to tear a phone book in half as easily as a napkin.

            “You’re welcome,” Danny trilled.

            “I look like a junior bodybuilder,” I said, dumbfounded.

            “That was the point,” he added, pulling up a pair of grey dress pants.

            He was about to go into the closet for a shirt, but I stopped him with both my arms.  “This is hot and all,” I confessed, “totally something we should try out during our next session of love-making, but this is a little ridiculous.”

            He released himself from my arms and opened the closet.  “Nonsense,” he said as he reached for one of the shirts he’d already unpacked.  “You saw all of the executives’ wives last night.  That’s how they look all the time.  It’s expected of the wives around here.”

            “Okay, wow,” I started, incredulous.  “A, I am not your wife, and don’t you ever forget that.  B, I don’t care what’s expected around here.  I don’t work for ChorrTek.  I want to go back to my body.”

            Danny stopped buttoning his shirt and knit his brows.  “Why?”

            I looked down at my thick, cut muscles and my large cock.  I rubbed my hands up and down my taut abs and up my new cum gutters, feeling the muscles bulge and ripple—the proverbial washboard.  The feeling was intoxicating.  “It’s like walking around in a fetish suit or being a living blow-up doll.  It’d be one thing if I built this body.  Then, I’d be showing off my hard work.  But my husband giving it to me as a gift?  That’s sex-game stuff.  Totally fine for the bedroom, but not for every day.  It cheapens it.”

            “You were fine with it when we went to the party last night.”

            “When we went to the party, it was five vanity pounds that you turned into ten, and then into 17.  And then you made me taller than you.  Not to mention you increased my cock by 50%.”

            “Didn’t I increase it by 150%?” he asked.

            “No.  My cock is 150% of its original size; you increased it by 50%.  Don’t question the math teacher.  Just let me go back to my body.”

            “But you think this body is hot.  And I think this body is hot.  What’s the big deal?”  Danny circled around me.  “Oh my god!” he said.  “I wish you could see your back.  It is all hills and valleys.  Muscular and wide.  Oh, this is the best app ever.”

            “Danny.  Please.  Take this seriously.”

            He began to rub his chin on the back of my neck and my shoulders.  He had to reach up a little bit to do it, but I wasn’t that much taller than him.  He hadn’t shaved yet this morning, and his thick stubble scratched my neck and lit up all the pleasure centers of my brain.  “I thought you’d like the gift.  I really did.”  He kissed my neck.

            “I do like it.”

            He kissed my neck again.

            “Then what’s the problem?” he asked.

            “The problem is that…”

            He kissed my neck again.

            “It’s that you seem to be doing this more for your coworkers and bosses than for me.”

            “If you like it, who cares if my bosses like it?”  He nuzzled my neck, and my knees began to buckle.

            “I surrender.”  I said.  “We’ll try it out this way for today.  But if I don’t like it, I go right back to my body.  Agreed?”

            “Agreed,” he said, kissing my shoulder for the last time.

            He left to go shave, and then it hit me.  He always shaved before he got dressed so he wouldn’t get shaving cream or hair on his shirt.  He’d waited to shave until I said yes.

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Chapter 5

            “Just today” turned into “just this week” turned into “just this month.”

            At first, I did feel very self-conscious leaving the house.  Even after I bought some jeans and shirts, my muscles were always on prominent display.  My chest pushed forward every shirt I tried on, my shoulders pulled them wide, my arms filled the sleeves when I bent at the elbow.  My ass was caressed by every pair of pants I tried on; my legs filled the jeans majestically.  And even though I didn’t have to buy any new belts, I had to use one hole down on all of my old ones.  And I didn’t think two inches of height would be a world of difference, but it pushed me from just under six feet to just over six feet, and that came with it a different perspective.

            Everywhere I went, I turned heads.  Women, mostly.  This was a planned community, and Danny and I were the first gay couple to move in.  So, yeah, it was mostly housewives turning to look at me as I walked through the stores or took my morning jogs.

            When I did yardwork and tended to my new garden, I had to take off my shirt, my torso glistening with sweat, rivulets dropping down my chest and collecting in the grooves of my abs.  Whenever I gardened, I drew an audience.  It was partially my fault for planting in the front yard, especially since the neighborhood had no fences.  We had more space in our expansive backyard, but I’d hoped to use that yard for outdoor activities, which a garden would hinder.  So, gardening shirtless in the front yard was my solution, and our neighbors loved to stare.  When some of the women started bringing binoculars, I complained to Danny, but he told me to take it as a compliment.

            Danny liked how much attention I was getting.  It gave him extra status at work how much all the wives lusted after me.  Also, we’d stepped up our love making from three or four times a week to once nightly with Sunday matinees.  We were having as much sex as we were when we met senior year of college.  Even with my newly grown cock, we had no repeats of that first night—we went back to Danny topping and then blowing me if I needed to be finished off.  Danny was always a screamer, but considering how loud he was, I could just picture those bored housewives staring at the outside of our house straining to hear every last grunt and groan.

            But that first month, it wasn’t as though my life was entirely sex- and lust-centric.  When you don’t have to work or grade tests and homework, you suddenly have so much time to fill.  I finished unpacking the whole house in two days, largely because I would’ve been bored if I hadn’t.

            On top of that, I was trying some things on my list.  The garden was going well, except for the stares.  I decided on a vegetable garden rather than a flower garden.  Tomatoes require a lot of attention, and I had attention to give.  I’d also quickly learned that I did not have the patience for meditation or the eye for painting.  At least I’d tried. 

            I was having more fun picking up the guitar, but I still was terrible.  After a month, I couldn’t play a single song, but I’d mastered a handful of chords.  Then again, I was more messing around than taking it seriously. 

            I’d also brushed off my old topology textbooks to polish my skills to see if maybe I wanted to go back to school and get my MS or PhD.  Even if it went nowhere, it reminded me why I went into math in the first place. 

            I’d also gotten a lot better at cooking.  I was no master chef, but Danny nearly devoured me after he ate my beef stroganoff.

            And, of course, I was working out at least five times a week.  If I was going to keep this body, I was going to keep this body.  With the extra almost 20 pounds Danny had given me, I shattered every personal best I had at the gym.  I got a lot of stares at the gym too, but that was to be expected.  Because he was an executive for ChorrTek, he and I both got free memberships to the corporate gym in the lobby of the ChorrTek building, so the gym was mostly full of executives fighting the middle age spread. Their stares were envy and admiration.  However, I did get a few glances in the shower.

            And Danny was happier than I’d ever seen him.  He adored his work (and the status I gave him), and he was excellent at his job.  He’d also made a lot of new friends—all of them the younger, frat-type executives.  Seriously, they all acted like they were extras from Animal House.  He’d hang out with guys from work two or three times a week.  Usually, they went to some sports bar or another.  Occasionally, he’d even bring them by the house.  I’d still not learned a single name.

            At the end of our first month in this new town, a Friday evening, I was just finishing up dinner. Every Friday since we’d moved here, Danny came home completely wiped from the week.  That night, though, I could tell from the sound of his footsteps and the speed he closed the front door that something was different.

            “Welcome home, darling.  About twenty minutes ‘til it’s ready.”

            “Turn it off.  Pack it up.  Put on something fancy.  We’re going out to celebrate.”

            I turned off the stove and met him in the foyer, still holding a wooden spoon.  He was beaming so wide I thought his head was going to snap in half.

            “What’s the occasion?”

            He threw his briefcase to the side and leapt into my arms.  I caught him, but the wooden spoon went flying across the room.  He pelted me with kisses.

            “I’m glad you’re excited,” I managed between the affection, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

            He bounced out of my arms and landed on his feet.  “They put me on the fast track.  I’ve only been there a month, and they put me on the VP fast track.”

            I grabbed him in a big bear hug and spun him around.  “That is awesome!”

            When I put him down, he said, “I would have called ahead so you didn’t bother with dinner, but they didn’t tell me until I was halfway out the door.”

            “Fuck dinner.  It was just a chicken.  Chicken makes better leftovers anyway.”

            He danced off to the bedroom to get changed.  I put the food away and then followed him.

            When I joined him in the bedroom, he was half-dressed and half-undressed, torn between three different shirts.  While he mulled over his choices, he looked at me and said, “No one has ever made the VP fast track this soon.  Jon P., you met him at the welcome party, he was put on the fast track after he’d worked at the company for a year, and that was considered lightning fast.  This is absolutely unprecedented!”

            I took off my t-shirt and jeans and looked for something celebratory among my new clothes.  “They know quality when they see it.”

            Danny snuck up behind me and squeezed my ass right through my briefs and kissed the back of my neck a few times.  “I love our lives here.  Do you love our lives here?”

            “Sure,” I said.

            “I knew it.”  Danny went back to selecting a shirt, deciding on a light purple one, and as he put it on, he informed me, “If you need a shower, you only have time for a quick one.  The guys are expecting us in half an hour.”

            “The guys?”

            “Yeah.  A bunch of the guys are taking me out to celebrate.  I told them not without my husband, and so Gary suggested this place that had dinner, drinks, and dancing.”

            “All of the guys are going to be there?”

            “Yes.  Of course, they are.”

            I should have realized that would be the case, but it still took the wind out of my sails. “Enjoy your night,” I said, heading to leave the bedroom.  “I’ll just stay home and have the chicken.”

            “Nonsense,” he said, physically stopping me.  “It’s a celebration.  I want to celebrate with my husband.”

            “I’d love to celebrate with you,” I corrected.  “I just don’t want to spend another night with a fake smile plastered to my face while you all try to out-handshake each other.”

            “It’s not like that.”

            “It’s exactly like that.”

            Danny pouted a little.  “Give the guys a chance.  If you absolutely hate it, this will be the last time we hang out with them as a group.”  Then, he added, “Please please please!”

            This was going to be an un-winnable battle.  “Are their wives going to be there?” I tried to hide the distaste in my voice, but I’m sure plenty of it bled through.

            “Nope.  It’s a guys’ night.”

            “Good.  Good that they realize I’m one of the guys, and good that their wives aren’t going to be there.”

            Having won me over, Danny went back to deciding if this was a tie occasion or a no-tie occasion.  “Why don’t you like their wives?”

            “They stare at me.  All the time.”

            “You’re the hottest thing they’ve ever seen, tiger,” Danny said.  “Tie?” he asked me.

            “Bring it and leave it in the glove compartment if it turns out to you don’t need it.”

            “Smart man.”  He tucked the tie in his back pocket and added, “You like some of the guys at least, right?”

            As I put on my black dress pants, I explained.  “I don’t know the guys.  I’ve spent maybe an hour total with them.”

            “You’ve seen Stan on five separate occasions.”

            “He’s the baseball nut,” I tried.

            “Yes.  See?”

            “I promise to make an effort to get to know the guys tonight.”  I held up two shirts to show Danny.  One was a fetchingly tight black number that glittered amazingly under light—because of the stretchy fabric it was made from, it was one of the few shirts I still could squeeze into from before my recent growth.  One was a more modest peach one that was more appropriate for a business dinner.  “How much dancing are we doing?” I asked.

            He threw the peach shirt back into the closet.  “All of the dancing.”

            I put on the tight black shirt and spun around for his approval.

            “Perfect,” he said.  Then, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and wiggled it back and forth.  “Since it’s a special occasion, I’ve got an idea.”

            I said nothing, but my face glossed over with disapproval.

            “Jack and Jon P. saw you out for one of your morning runs, and they swore up and down that your package was huge.  I did not dissuade them.”

            “Why were your straight coworkers looking at my package?”

            “That’s between them and their god.  Anyway, what if we taunt them a little?”

            “You want to make my cock bigger to rub your coworkers’ faces in it?  Aren’t I trying to make friends with them?”

            “They’re straight corporate bros, RT.  They respond to dominance and one-upmanship.  Show them the jungle cat you are, and they’ll clamor to be your best friend.”

            “I played college baseball. I know how to make friends with straight men.”

            “Name one straight man you’ve made friends with since graduation.  Go ahead.  Name him.”

            Okay.  He had me.  I’d been the only man in the math department at my school, and I’d been friends with women and gay guys pretty much exclusively since college.  Even my old workout buddy in LA was a flaming, buff queen.

            “Is that a yes?” he tried, wagging his phone again.

            “It’s a yes,” I said, almost immediately regretting it.

            He tapped his screen a few times, and I felt the involuntary flex throughout my body.  My briefs suddenly felt a lot more crowded, and my cock and balls pressed up against my zipper, leaving a definite bulge.  But the flex didn’t go away, and I felt all of my muscles grow denser and heavier.  My chest and shoulders rounded out as far as they could, but they were hindered by the restrictions of a shirt.  My arms forced the sleeves halfway up, revealing my thick, meaty biceps.  My pants grew even tighter.  My ass pushed the rear of my pants to their fullest, and my legs swelled out, now definitely curved with parabolic swoops of muscular lines.

            “Danny!” I said.

            “If I’m going to make your cock a thick nine inches, I needed to balance it out with your muscles.  I figured a nice, even 200 pounds would do it.”

            At a barely audible level, I whispered, “Nine inches?  200 pounds?  Fuck.”  I looked at the bulge, all of my bulges—first top down, then in the mirror.  If I’d been poured into the shirt before, now I threatened to burst it wide with each breath I took.

            “You’re magnificent,” Danny said breathlessly.

            “I’m massive,” I said.

            “And assive,” Danny added, putting his hands on my ass again.

            “Don’t give me a hardon,” I said while laughing, stepping away from him.  “I don’t think the zipper can take it.”

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Chapter 6

            The place we went dinner at definitely did not need ties.  It was a nice place, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the sort of place people went to in order to get drunk and dance.  The fact that there was a steakhouse attached to it almost seemed an afterthought.

            The whole ride there, and then walking into the restaurant, I’d felt oddly confined in my clothes.  My stride was a little more solid, I took up a little more space.  200 pounds was a heady feeling.  It was nice visiting, but as I was having a little trouble navigating the crowd, and I was hoping it was a one-night stay.

            Right when we walked in, we could see the cluster of ChorrTek executives all at one long rectangular table on the other side of the dance floor.  When we got to the table, all of Danny’s friends from work stood up and applauded.  He took a bow, and then took a seat at the head of the table.  I was about to sit in the empty chair at his right, when one of the executives shouted out.

            “Shit, RT.  You’re looking big.”

            “Thanks,” I said as demurely as possible.

            “Ripped Rupert is right,” one confirmed.

            “We should just call him Rip,” one suggested.

            “Rip Eberhart,” one echoed.

            “Rip Wells, if anything,” I insisted.  “But RT’s just fine.”

            “Rip’s been at the gym every day since they moved here,” another executive added.

            “You make us look like a bunch of pathetic pantywaists,” one near the end of the table called out.

            “You guys don’t make it hard,” I joked, finally taking my seat.

            A small peal of laughter went around the table.

            As soon as Danny and I were seated, a well-dressed woman with a small leather folder came over to our table: our waitress.  The poor thing was wearing ridiculously high heels for someone who worked on her feet—at least 4.5 inches.  Even though her feet must be killing her, she smiled brightly and chirped, “And what will you gentlemen have to drink?”

            “Champagne,” the one at the far end of the table called out.  “We’re celebrating.  We’ll start with three bottles, and move from there.”

            “Make it five,” a voice added.  “What’s Uber for if not nights like this?”

            When she went off to get our drinks, the guy sitting next to me leaned in conspiratorially and said (loud enough for the whole table to hear), “Man, we must have gotten the hottest waitress at this place.  Did you see how huge her tits were?”

            A look of sheer incredulity washed over her face.  “No,” I said flatly.  “But I did notice her shoes.”

            That got a huge laugh.

            “I forgot for a sec that you and Dan are married,” he elbowed me in the arm to show his approval.  “You’re just a couple of the guys.”

            “In most ways, yes,” I said.

            “Most ways?” the one I was pretty sure was Stan asked.

            “Well, we’ve never had a pregnancy scare.”

            Another round of laughter.

            “You should hang out with us more often, Rip,” the one I was pretty sure was Jon P. said.  This declaration was met with a round of agreement.

            “Tell you what, fellas,” I said, stretching back in my chair.  “Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?  Danny and I have this huge backyard we haven’t gotten to use yet.  Come on over, we’ll play some ball, and I’ll show you how pathetic you guys really are.”

            The guys couldn’t agree fast enough.  Danny grabbed my hand under the table and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

            “If you’re all coming over, then, I should learn your names,” I added.  They laughed again, and I went around the table.  Much to my surprise, there was only one Jon, but they always called him Jon P.  I also quickly learned that three of them, very aware of their low place in the pecking order, only spoke when prompted.

            After the waiter came back with our drinks and took our dinner orders, Danny grabbed my hand strongly under the table.

            “What?” I asked.

            He pointed to the dance floor, and that’s when I heard it.  Bruno Mars.  “Just the Way You Are.”

            “Excuse me, guys.  I am going to dance with my husband,” I announced.

            “This was our wedding song,” Danny called as I practically dragged him to the dance floor.

            We danced tight and close.  We hadn’t gone dancing in ages. It felt so good to have him in my arms, even if my arms were so huge that they felt like someone else’s arms.  I couldn’t move as freely as I wanted in my tight shirt and pants, so I had to embellish any way I could.  Suddenly inspired, I twirled him, and a giant smile exploded across his face.  At the same time, I could swear I heard the guys at the table applauding us.  Pushing it out of my mind, I reeled Danny back in.  He ended up facing out, his back to my chest.  We swayed back in forth to the music for a little bit, and Danny, not used to how far out I now stuck, was pressing his ass right into my new cock bulge. 

            Soon enough, friction did as it is wont to do, and I was getting an erection, right there on the dance floor.  For the last month, I’d slowly adjusted to having a 7.5-inch cock; a 9-inch monster was an entirely new experience, especially in such tight pants.  I wasn’t even entirely hard yet, and I felt like I had a metal pipe between my legs.

            Enjoying the dance, Danny tried to pull away to turn around and face me again, and I held him closer, whispering in his ear, “I’m getting hard.  Give me some cover.”

            Danny spun around and left me fully exposed, a mischievous grin on his face.  “Not a chance,” he mouthed silently.

            Thinking quickly, I pulled him back, and swept him up off the ground, holding him like a groom carrying a bride across the threshold.  As I spun him around, I marveled how light he felt.  My large, bulging muscles had made my husband light enough to lift and twirl, so I spun faster.  Again, I swear the table cheered.

            The song ended soon after, and I put Danny down.  As we walked back to the table, I was surprised to see that everyone had gotten up from the table and come close to the dance floor to watch us.

            When we got back to the table, Jack called out, “I can see Rip liked the dance,” inadvertently pointing right at the impression of my hard cock in my pants.

            Blushing a little, I took my seat quickly.

            Gary, the guy sitting next to me, sat down, and added consolingly, “Nothing shameful about any of that.”  He then patted my shoulder in consolation or solidarity.  “Holy fuck,” Gary shouted.  “Your muscles are hard as marble.”

            As soon as Gary said that, the floodgates burst open, and all of the guys began crowding around me, poking and prodding at my muscles, marveling at their size and density.  Alan, who was a little doughy, rubbed his hand up and down my cobblestone abs and marveled at how small my waist was.  Someone (I don’t know who, there was such a crowd) even copped a feel of my balls.

            “Dan the Man,” Jon P. said, giving Danny a high five.  “I wish I was gay so I could get me a man like that.”

            Uncomfortable with the physical contact, I shooed everyone away from pawing at me.  “If you were gay, Jon P., you’d end up with a guy as unimpressive as you.”

            A chorus of “ooh” went around the table, punctuated by Jack, the frattiest guy of the lot, adding, “Burn.”

            Thankfully, that was exactly when the food showed up.

            The food was excellent, and as long as the conversation stayed off of me, it was easy and pleasant.  I could see the friend potential Danny saw in these guys.  Of course, every time the comments turned to me, the guys bent over backwards to insult their wives.

            “I’m glad you ordered a steak, Rip.  If our wives were here, they’d have all gotten salads.”

            “See, we can talk about this stuff around you.  But if our wives were here, we’d have to be on our best behavior.”

            “You’re a fucking blast, man.  It takes five of our wives to make one personality.”

            When Jack joked that his wife was too stupid and boring to even know she was stupid and boring, that was the last straw.

            “Guys, seriously, this wife bashing has to stop.  A, I’m sure they’re lovely women.  B, you’re the guys who married them!  If you didn’t like them, you didn’t have to marry them.”

            “What?”  Alan seemed confused.

            “My wife practically held a gun to my head to make me marry her,” Jon P. chimed in.

            All the straight guys laughed.

            “Oh my god, you fucking breeders!” I said a bit too loudly.  All eyes at the table turned to me.  “No one forced you to get married.  Danny and I got married in December of 2010.  California didn’t recognize our marriage for three more years.  According to California, we’ve only been married for seven years, not ten.  We wanted to get married.  We marched to get married.  We fought to get married.  When I said ‘til death, I meant it.”

            The table fell silent.

            After a minute—a minute in which I was sure I ruined everything—Stan said, “Fuck, Rip.  That was beautiful.”

            Jack looked dumbfounded, “Shit, man.  I never thought about it that way.”

            Danny reached over and pulled me into his kiss.

            After the kiss, I asked Danny, very quietly, “Do you talk about me like this when I’m not around to defend myself?”

            Gary, who’d overheard the question, answered for Danny.  “No, man.  He can’t stop bragging about you.”

             Danny then tickled the back of my neck with a barrage of kisses.  Once he finished, he drew closer to my ear and whispered, “I can’t wait until we get home. Wait thirty seconds and then meet me in the men’s room.”

            “What was that about?” Gary asked.

            A lascivious glint in his eye, Alan said, “I’m their next-door neighbor.  If Dan whispered what I think Dan whispered, we’ll be hearing some loud screams in about fifteen minutes.”

            “I’ll try to make it ten,” I said, standing up.

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Chapter 7

            I’d never had sex in a men’s room before.  I’m not really one for public sex, but my erection from the dance floor never really went down, and Danny knows my Kryptonite.  When I got to the bathroom, Danny practically leapt on me.  I barely had time to wedge the doorstop under the door to prevent anyone from following me in.

            He led me to the row of sinks and began fumbling with my belt buckle.  He was moving so frenetically that his hands were shaking.

            “Calm down, darling,” I said.  I put my hands on his to steady them.  “We don’t have to rush, and we don’t have to do this.”

            “Even your hands are huge,” he said, looking down at my hands.  “All night, I’ve been staring at that huge chest.  And on the dance floor, you picked me up like I weighed nothing, and you cradled me against the rock-hard wall that is your body.  And your arms bulged and surrounded me.  I’d never been so aroused in my life.  Every time you brought your glass up to your mouth and your arm swelled in that impossibly tight shirt, I almost leapt across the table and fucked you right there.”

            I turned to look at myself in the long mirror above the sink.  I wasn’t used to such a large reflection staring back at me.  I flexed my right bicep, almost to check that the reflection was mine.  “I am pretty huge, aren’t I?”  I looked like the bodybuilders I used to jerk off to when I was in high school.  I kind of reminded myself of this one picture of Frank Zane that used to really get my crank going.  Broad shoulders, impressive chest and arms bulging into relief, taut and tiny waist, thick and poweful legs.  I had that page bookmarked and favorited. 

            But this wasn’t Frank Zane—that was my head on his body.  My broad jaw, my inviting blue eyes, my close-cropped brown hair, my smile.

            And Zane wished he was packing what I was packing.  Even in my black dress pants, I could see my cock clearly lined out.  I could even make out the head.  I hadn’t seen my cock naked at this new size.  If the outline was anything to go by, I was thick.  Maybe three fingers thick.  Seeing my own cock in the mirror, I got even stiffer, and the outline got longer and thicker.

            I’d always had confidence in my looks, but I was never actually sexually attracted to myself.  Staring at that hung, beautiful muscular brute in the mirror, I momentarily wished I could cheat on Danny with my own reflection.

            “You’ve always been bigger than me, and now you completely overshadow me.  It is so fucking hot.”

            “What are we going to use for lube?” I asked, still looking at my reflection.

            In a hushed tone, Danny confessed, “I’m dripping so wet I don’t think we’ll need it.”

            Instantaneously, I had by belt undone, and my pants down around my ankles.  I bent over to present my exposed ass to my husband, and then, in the mirror, I saw the ramrod stiff cock jutting out of my crotch.  It was still recognizably my cock, my best friend since 8th grade, but it was a magnified version of my cock.  Danny got up behind me and began thrusting into me.  As he thrusted, my pecs bounced in the reflection.  As he thrusted, my arms swelled with the force I was using to keep myself up.  As he thrusted, my cock bobbed back and forth, twitching with excitement each time Danny reached my prostate.

            “Your ass is so huge,” Danny said, “That you feel tighter than I’m used to, tiger.”

            It’s true.  Danny’s cock didn’t fill me up all the way like it used to, but it still made my prostate sing.

            My breath was picking up.  “Just.  Keep.  Fucking.  Me.”  I clenched my ass around his cock, and Danny screamed in ecstasy.  I locked eyes with my reflection, and the sheen of sweat that covered my overly masculine face, and the massive muscle man attached to it, sent me over the edge too.

            Danny fell to the floor, spraying his jizz everywhere.  I was close enough to the sink that I got most of it to go into the sink, but one or two spurts coated the mirror.  After the fourth spurt, I thought I’d be done, but I just kept going.  Seven.  Eight. My breathing was heavy and guttural.  After the eleventh spurt, a little bit of semen drooled from the tip.

            I pulled my pants back up, carefully tucking my cock down the right pant leg, and then helped Danny back to his feet.

            “I’ve only got one thought,” he said.
            “Let’s clean up this mess as quickly as we can so we don’t get in trouble?”

            “We need a mirror for the wall above our headboard.”

            I laughed breathily.

            As we cleaned up, Danny kept stretching his leg and shaking it.

            “You hurt yourself?”

            “I got a leg cramp mid-orgasm and just kept going.  It’s why I fell to the floor.”  He rubbed the back of his left thigh.

            “Want me to kiss it and make it all better?”

            He swatted my arm.  “If you do, we’ll start all over.”

            We got the bathroom as clean as we could and left, hoping to be unobserved.  Of course, there was a line of three men waiting to get in, but they seemed more full-of-urine than angry.

            When we got back to our table, all of Danny’s coworkers looked like they had shared a secret.  Danny, his leg still sore, eased himself into his seat, and I plopped heavily into mine.  After a second or two of absolute silence, I cracked and said, “Okay, spill.”

            “We heard Dan from here,” Stan crowed.  I don’t know why he sounded proud, but he sounded proud.

            Danny turned a bright shade of crimson and looked down.

            Jon P. patted him on the back, saying, “Buck up, soldier.  Most people think someone was mugged in the parking lot.”

            Before anyone else could add color commentary, the waitress was back with dessert orders.  I hadn’t planned on ordering dessert, but she put a dessert plate in front of both Danny and me.

            “We ordered you dessert,” Alan said.  “Peach cobbler.”

            “We had a debate about what to get you,” Jack added.

            “Didn’t know what we liked?” I said, taking a forkful of pretty damn good peach cobbler.

            “We had a debate over what the gayest dessert was,” Stan answered.

            “I thought it should’ve been something fudge,” Stan asserted.  “But I was outvoted.”

            “We figured ‘cobbler’ sounds like ‘gobbler,’” Jon P. started.

            “And what with the peach emoji and all,” Gary finished.

            I covered my face with my hand so as to not laugh in their faces.

            “So,” Alan started, “what is the gayest dessert?” he asked us point blank.

            At the same time, in the same tone of voice, Danny and I said, “Banana split.”

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Chapter 8

            The guys came over for the baseball game the next day.  By and large, I couldn’t call it a blast.  It was a game of five on five (already disappointing), and I was the only one who had any idea how to play baseball.  Four of the guys were very out of shape; the rest were as good as you’d expect mid-level executives at a tech company to be.  Also, with my still-enlarged body and a decade out of practice, I wasn’t quite as fast I was used to.  I did make the ball go flying farther than I’d ever done before.  That was fun, but the game wasn’t exactly the time I was hoping for.

            After the game, the group decided to do some burgers and beer with a movie.  I’d expected it would be my job to go get the supplies as these were ostensibly Danny’s guests, but they insisted Danny go get the stuff—they wanted to hang out with me.

            We sent the guys into the TV room to pick a movie while Danny and I retreated into the kitchen to check what we needed to buy and what we already had.  As we looked through the cabinets, he prodded me with, "I told you you’d warm up to them.”

            “It wasn’t terrible, no.  But I don’t think some of them have ever actually played a game of baseball.  And they made some weird comments.”

            “Oh?”

            There was a six pack of beers in the fridge, so I took them out.  “I was the only person on our team who could throw the ball worth a damn, so I was pitcher.”  I closed the fridge and moved on to the cabinets.  I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just looking to see what we had.  “Gary made a thousand jokes about me being a pitcher in college.  No matter how many times I told him I played second base.”

            Danny chuckled.  “It probably didn’t help that I played catcher.”

            That made it click.  I felt like an idiot.  “Oh god, now I get it.  He thinks I’m the top.”

            Convinced we had nothing of use, I stopped looking through cabinets, but Danny was still nosing through one.  “They all think you’re the top.”

            “Why?” I asked.

            Danny turned around and looked me squarely in the eye.  He then gestured his hand up and down my whole body.  “Look at you.”

            “That’s a stupid stereotype.”

            Danny went back to his hunt for burger condiments.  “The leg cramp I had last night probably didn’t help.”

            “What?”  That made no sense.

            “We went to the bathroom to fuck; I came back limping.  Gary drew a reasonable conclusion.”

            I just wanted to hide.  These men that I wasn’t all that fond of thought I was this masc dom top who’d fucked my husband so hard he limped back to the table.  Is that how they saw me?  “It’s none of their business, but now that they’re discussing our sex life openly, you’re going to correct them, right?  If either of us is a top, it’s you.”

            “Nah,” Danny said.  “Let ‘em think what they want.  I secretly think two of them wish that you’d top them.”

            “Oh, good.  I’m converting the straights.”

            “It seems we need everything,” Danny concluded, officially giving up his hunt through the cabinets.

            I shrugged.  “We don’t really have burgers all that often.”

            Danny kissed me on the cheek.  “I’ll be back in two shakes.  Have fun with the guys.”

            I returned to the living room with beers.  We still hadn’t gone furniture shopping, so there were only one couch and two arm chairs.  Two of the guys were sitting on the floor.  I announced, “We only have six cold ones.  Either two of you are waiting for Danny to get back, or four of you are sharing.”

            “Why can’t just two of us share?” Jack asked.

            “Well, class,” I said.  “There are nine of us here, I don’t like beer, which leaves eight.  So, either six of you have a beer and two of you don’t, or four of you have your own beers, and four of you break into two groups of two for each of the remaining cans.”

            “You just did that in your head?”  Alan seemed shocked.  Did he think I was some dumb jock?

            “That problem would’ve been too easy for my sixth graders,” I responded.

            “I’ll wait,” Jon P. said.

            “Me too,” Stan echoed.

            “That solved that,” I said, passing the beer around.

            When Gary got his beer, he said, “I expected light beer in bottles.”

            “What can I say,” I rejoindered.  “I don’t drink beer.  Danny doesn’t drink it much either.  I just buy what Danny like so it’s in the fridge if he wants any.”

            “You don’t drink?” Gary seemed utterly confused by this.

            “He says he doesn’t drink beer,” Alan interjected.  “He had champagne last night, so we know he drinks.  He probably prefers wine or something.”

            That sparked an idea.

            “I do have some whiskey.  That sounds good.”

            “If you’re offering, I’ll have one too,” Stan said.

            “Me too,” Jon P. echoed.

            “I should’ve waited,” Gary added, punctuating the thought with a swig of his beer.

            “Back with the drinks,” I told them.  When I got back and everyone had their drinks, I finally sat down on the floor next to Jack.  “So, what are we watching?”

            Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” Jon P. said triumphantly.

            “Ah, so we’re going highbrow,” I joked.

            I’m one of those people who likes absolute silence during a movie, so the horde of yakking businessmen surrounding me made for an unpleasant viewing experience.  I tried to be friendly, but I just wanted to watch the damn movie.

            After about thirty minutes, I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I lied and said I was going to the bathroom when I was just going into my bedroom for five minutes of quiet.

            I’d only enjoyed two minutes of my silent bliss when I suddenly stood up, took off all of my clothes, and walked back into the TV room.  I had no idea why I was doing any of this, but while I was doing it, it felt like the right, normal thing to do.  When I got back to the TV room, the movie was paused, and the guys were all clustering around in a circle.  I wanted to hide my cock, but I left my hands by my side.

            “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

            “You didn’t hit mute,” Jon P. said.

            Gary waved a phone back and forth in the air in front of him.  “Dan forgot his phone at home.  We decided to give him a present before he gets home.”  He looked at me.  “His password wasn’t hard to crack.  1209.”

            “Our wedding anniversary,” escaped my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

            He nodded, pleased with my answer, and then tapped the screen once.  “Mute’s on.”

            I tried to run; I couldn’t move.  I tried to scream at them; I couldn’t talk.

            For a few seconds, the guys just stared at me, looking me up and down like I was a divine vision.  But that only lasted a few seconds.

            “Rip is fucking swole,” Stan commented.

            “And hung,” Jack added.

            “Let’s make him as big as Cap,” Alan suggested.

            “How big is Chris Evans?” Gary asked, poised to make the changes in the app.

            Jon P. pulled out his own phone, typed at super speed and said, “Google says 194 pounds.”

            “Aw, man, Rip’s already bigger than Chris Evans,” Gary said.

            A nearly silent “Fuck” escaped Stan’s lips.

            “How big is Cap in the comic books?” Jack tried.

            Jon P. typed again.  “Google says 240.”

            “That’s more like it,” Gary said, hitting a few buttons on Danny’s phone.

            I tried to tell them to stop, but no sound passed my lips.

            I felt the involuntary flex in all of my muscles, and I swelled impossibly larger.  I could feel my arms push out as my lats swelled.  In my peripheral vision, I could see my shoulders round out and swell further away from each other.  I could feel my chest blossoming outwards, growing ripe like fruit and heavy like granite.  My arms began lifting even more to the sides as my biceps grew outwards into full mounds of brawn.  I could even feel my triceps developing a wicked sweep as they thickened and engorged.

            My thighs pressed harder into each other, staunch and powerful.  As I stood there, powerless to move despite all this power pouring into my body, my stance became painfully uncomfortable.

            “Let him spread his legs, or he’ll fall over,” Alan said.  Gary obliged, and I was able to widen my stance to allow my thighs to fully curve out into mighty trunks of legs.  I could swear I could feel all the striations and veins forcing their way to the surface.  Even my calves felt flexed as they enlarged to support my massive frame.

            When I stopped growing, Gary remarked, “It’s a start.”

            “Cap’s hairless,” Stan pointed out.  “Get rid of all that hair.”

            With a click of the button, I could feel all my body hair recede into my body, leaving me shiny and smooth.

            “Wait, Dan might like him hairy,” Alan protested.  “Dan’s hairy himself.”

            “Good point,” Gary assented, and tapped the screen a few more times.

            The same sensation spread through my body as a forest of hair erupted on my chest and abs.

            “And while we’re at it,” Gary added and tapped the screen a few more times.

            With that, the feeling centered squarely in my face, where a thick, full beard erupted from my jaw.  It felt warm, rough, and dense.

            “If we’re going comic book superhero,” Jon P. chimed in, “that means a squarer jaw and a smaller waist.”

            I still couldn’t talk.

            “Excellent point,” Gary agreed, once again returning to Danny’s phone.

            The sensation of my chin growing thicker, wider, and denser was a bit like clenching my jaw, and then not unclenching.  The beard thickened a little in order to fill in the new expanses of canvas they’d made.

            Then, it felt like I took in a breath and didn’t let it go.  As my waist tightened, I could also feel my abs intensely crunch.  I could swear I could feel my internal organs shift to compensate for the decreasing amount of room.

            “How tiny is that going to be?” Alan asked.

            “He’s a superhero, right?  I’m thinking 30 inches.” Gary said.

            “That couldn’t be achieved naturally at all,” Stan pointed out.

            “Screw nature,” Gary retorted.

            When my waist stopped pulling in tight, I have never felt myself stand so straight.

            “And what about his dick?” Jack asked.

            I wanted to shout.

            “It’s already 9 inches, Jack-o,” Gary said, showing Jack the screen.  “He’s bigger than most porn stars.”

            “You saw Dan limping last night,” Alan added.

            “I’m just saying that gay guys like big dicks,” Jack insisted.

            “True,” Gary said.  “10 inches?” he asked the group.

            “Go for a full foot,” Jon P. blurted.

            I could say nothing.

            “Fuck, man!”  Gary whistled.  “We’re not trying to kill Dan.”

            “I say go for it,” Stan commented.  “I think Dan could take it.”  Was that a note of proudness in Stan’s voice?

            “A foot it is.  With some real low-hangers,” Gary said, making a few strokes on his phone.

            While it felt like I was getting an erection, I wasn’t.  But my cock was thickening and lengthening.  I could feel it weighing down my crotch more and more.  The swelling of my balls began to hurt as my balls were now so huge that my massive legs were crushing them.

            Gary tapped a button, and I spread my legs again.  “Don’t want him to rack himself.”

            “Should we make him taller?” Alan asked.

            “Brilliant.  He’s currently 6’1”, so why not 6’3”?”  Gary explained as he tapped the screen a few more times.  “Let’s make his muscles proportionate,” he added.

            With that, I stretched up taller.  It felt like I was standing on my tip-toes, but I was still standing flat on my feet.

            “Dan’s gonna flip when he sees this,” Jack said, almost in awe.

            “Let’s see what Rip has to say about this,” Gary added, tapping the phone yet again.

            With control of my body returned to me, I lunged at Gary.  “You fucking son of a bitch!” I shouted and grabbed him by the shirt.  I reached for the phone, but he tossed it over to Alan.

            “We thought you’d be happy, Rip,” Gary managed to get out.  As he looked around him, it fully dawned on him that I was lifting him off the ground with one hand.

            “My name is RT.”

            “RT!  We thought you’d like it, RT!” Gary spat out in a panic.

            “You thought I’d like being made to strip naked and say nothing while a group of guys manipulated my body as a gift for another person?”

            “When you put it that way…” Alan trailed off.

            I tossed Gary to the ground and turned.  “Give me the phone, Alan, so I can put myself back to normal.”

            “Where’s the fun in that?” Alan asked.  He tossed the phone to Jon P., who ran out of the room.
            “Get back here!” I commanded and started to chase after him, but I wasn’t even slightly used to my size.  Between the impossible smallness of my waist and the over-thickness of my thighs, I tripped over myself and fell to the floor.  The room shook when I landed.

            “We did this for Dan,” Gary said, offering me a hand, “but you should be happy too.  Look at you!  You’re a god.  What guy wouldn’t want to look like you?”

            I got up—without the help of Gary—and looked around at them.  “What makes you think you can play with people like this?”

            Before any of them could answer, the front door opened and closed and Danny called out, “I’m back!  Where are we in the movie?”  He came into the TV room and saw us all standing there, me naked and huge in the middle.  In a tone somewhere between a swear and a prayer, Danny whispered, “Holy god.”  He looked me up and down.  My chest was heaving from anger and exertion.  I was in a predatory, offensive stance, about to strike.

            “Maybe this is why Dan calls him tiger,” Jack joked.

            “Come with me,” Danny said, grabbing me by the hand.

            Stumbling a little over my new size, I followed him to the bedroom.  It was quiet, but I could swear I heard the guys celebrating.

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Chapter 9

            Once we’d reached the privacy of our bedroom, Danny locked the door, turned to me, and said, “I could tell you had to get out of there.  What’s up?”

            “Kick them the fuck out of the house!” I shouted in a whisper.

            “Why are you talking like this?” Danny said, matching my odd volume.

            “Jon P. still has your phone, and if he doesn’t think we’re having sex, he’ll just make me have sex with you.”

            “What?”

            I explained to Danny how the guys had just used that phone app to make me strip naked and shut up.  I explained how they’d changed my body to these outrageous proportions for him.  Not for me, for him.  And now they had to go.

            “I don’t think they meant any harm,” Danny tried.

            “You’re defending them?  You’re fucking defending them?”

            “They’ve never seen the app on a guy before.  They were just playing.  I’m sure most of them were just seeing what they could do if they got the app for themselves.”

            “They’d never do that.  Never.  Because once you’re synched with that app, people can make you do whatever they want with the touch of a button.”

            “You’re exaggerating.”

            Seemingly unprompted, my cock grew rigid, thickened, and hardened into an erection, so hard that I could see my heartbeat.  Precum dripped from the tip.

            “Enough with the foreplay!” Jon P. shouted from the other side of the door.

            I pointed to my throbbing cock and the locked door.  Still shout-whispering, I exclaimed, “See what I mean?  Think this is a rage boner or something?  He fucking gave me this erection!”

            Danny put his hands up in a surrender posture, turned around, and unlocked the door.  He opened it just a crack, slipped his hand through, and demanded, “My phone.”  Moments later, he had the phone back in his possession, and the door re-locked.  “See, they gave me it back with no fight.”

            “Yeah, they gave it to you with no fight.”

            “I still think you’re over-reacting.  They saw all the work you were putting in at the gym, they know you’re an athlete, and they know you’re proud of your body.  Even if they were doing it for me—whatever that means—I’m sure they thought they were doing something nice for you too.”

            “You don’t override the autonomy of someone you’re trying to be nice to.  You don’t mute them.”

            Danny made a noise of frustration.  “What do you want me to do about it?”

            “For starters,” I said, gesturing to my footlong, drooling, throbbing cock.  It felt as hard as steel and was radiating heat, “get rid of this thing.”

            He looked a little disappointed, but he looked down at his phone, and made a few strokes of his finger.  “Done.”

            My cock remained turgid.

            “Then why am I still stiff as a girder?”  My cock remained pointing, straight forward, jutting a foot in length.

            “I didn’t just click ‘flaccid.’  Given your spiel about autonomy, I turned control of your erections back over to you.  That’s all you now.  It should go away on its own.”

            “I asked to make it go away.  That was giving you permission to just click ‘flaccid!’”

            “Fine,” Danny said, a little hurt.  He tapped the screen, and my cock fell soft, deflated.

            “Thank you,” I said.  I could actually feel my blood pressure dropping a little.

            “What next?” he asked.

            “Get them the fuck out of my house.”

            “Alright,” Danny acquiesced, slipping out of the bedroom.  From the bedroom, I could hear Danny say, “This is going to get loud, so you guys are going to have to leave.  We’ll do burgers some other day.”

            There was some grumbling, but within a minute, they were all out the front door.

            As soon as I heard the front door close, I stormed into the foyer.  Because I forgot how huge I was, I knocked into the doorframe on my way out and thudded the whole way there.

            “That’s how you get rid of them?  You imply we’re about to have loud sex and then invite them back for a rain check on burgers?”

            “What was I supposed to say?  I still have to work with them!”  Danny locked the door and went into the TV room to start cleaning up.

            I followed him, the floor shaking with my every step.  “Work with them, yes.  Hang out with them, fuck no.”

            Danny looked at me frustratedly.  “To work at a company like ChorrTek means I have to play nice with the fellow executives.  Corporate culture, schmoozing, all that.”

            That’s your priority right now?  Look at what they did to me!”

            Eyeing me up and down, my husband smiled lecherously.

            “Don’t you fucking give me bedroom eyes,” I barked.  I flailed my body around.  “I feel like a meat blimp.”  I tried to rest my fists on my waist in anger, but I missed because my waist was impossibly small.  “They made me some sort of disproportionate freak.”

            “Have you seen yourself yet?  I don’t think you’d be so mad if you saw yourself.”

            “That’s not the issue here,” I reminded him.

            “No, seriously.  Have you not seen yourself?”  Danny left the mess and went back to our bedroom, beckoning me to follow.

            “Will you just stay still so we can hash this out?” I cried as I followed him to the bedroom.  When I got in, he continued beckoning me over to the mirror.

            “Look,” he said, pointing at the mirror.

            The man in the mirror was a beast.  He had a stark and manly face: wide, impressive, and chiseled, with a solid jaw and a ravishing beard, close-cropped but thick and impenetrable.  His chest was round and broad, burly, covered in a thick carpet of hair, made to seem even broader by his shoulders that swelled like cannonballs on either side of his body.  His arms were thick and sinuous, full with thick, meaty muscle.  The width of his top half was accentuated by expansive lats and a minuscule waist.  Somehow, a fully-etched Adonis belt and eight powerful bricks burst forth from his abs.  An eight pack.  I’d never seen one of those in real life.  And his legs, his legs were thick and robed with power.  Even his calves were mighty and thick.  And every inch of him was kissed with hair or showed off striations and vascularity.  Then, at the very center of him, was the apotheosis of cock, thick and girthy, lying atop a set of balls the bulged and swam with spunk and testosterone, as large as over-ripe plums, maybe even lemons.

            He was me.

            My cock got hard again, sticking out to its full foot of length.

            “I told you you’d like it,” Danny said.

            “It doesn’t matter that I’m hot.  Of course, I’m hot.  I look like an enlarged Colt model.  That’s not the point.”

            “Is this the point?” Dan asked, putting his hand on my cock.

            My nerve endings danced on fire.  I looked down to remove his hand, and that’s when I saw it.  How small my husband’s hand looked on my thick, meaty cock.

            I stepped to the side so I could see both of us in the same mirror.  I had always been bigger than him, but I was now a 100 pounds bigger than him.

            “I know,” Danny cooed.  “I look pathetic next to a 260-pound hulk.”

            “240,” I corrected.

            “Phone says 260,” Danny insisted.

            “When they made me taller, I got 20 pounds heavier?”

            “Must be the case.”  Danny squeezed my cock head, and my breathing quickened.

            “That is intense.”  If he kept up the pressure, I was going to collapse.  My legs were already shaking slightly.

            “I saw the display screen for your cock.  They ramped up its sensitivity.  That’s all for you.  They didn’t do that for me.”  Danny began stroking my length up and down.  With my new super-sensitive cock, it was only a few seconds before I exploded.  And I exploded.  More copiously, more voluminously, more volleys.  An orgasm that just kept going.  My mind was electricity and sensation.  The mirror, my chest, my abs, the floor, even the ceiling all got coated.  The orgasm was so intense that I was having trouble processing color, my equilibrium was entirely out of whack, and I didn’t know if there was enough oxygen on the planet to restore my breath.

            “Turn it back down,” I said, dripping in my own spunk.

            “Why?”

            A gentle breeze passed my cock head, and it felt like I was going to go over the edge again.  “It’s too much,” I admitted.  “It’s way too much.”

            “If you insist.”  He trudged across the room, got the phone, an sat on our bed.

            When my cock stopped humming, I turned around and said, “Give me the phone.”

            “Why?”

            “So I can put it all back.  So I can go back to the guy who was 5’11” with a 5-inch dick.  The guy who’d earned his 171-pound frame.”

            “Are you kidding?  This is a gift.  This is awesome.”

            “I didn’t choose this.  I didn’t choose any of this.  These are all things that other people wanted for me.”

            Without handing me the phone, Danny asked, “But if you had?  If you had chosen the changes?  What would you have chosen?”

            “Okay, yes.  Something like this.  But not permanently.  I’d want it to be a costume I could put on for sexy times and then take off again when it was time to go to the store or take a run.  You know, things that involve leaving the house.”

            “I like you looking like this.”  Danny almost sounded ashamed, and he sunk down on our bed.

            I walked over to him, but it turned more into a strut.

            “I’m fine with this during romantic, intimate moments.  But otherwise, it feels like everyone’s reading my diary, or going through my Pornhub search history, or watching me shower.  I feel naked and raw and exposed.”

            “I get it,” Danny relented.  “Before I put you back, can I fuck that huge muscle ass of yours?”

            “After the day I’ve had, if you want to fuck me, you’d best fuck me good and proper.”

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TQuintA

Chapter 10

            And so, that became the new normal.  Whenever we had sex or danced in the living room, or did anything vaguely romantic, Danny blew me up into the porn-god muscleman his co-workers had turned me into.  And it was pretty often.  Usually, it was two or three times a day.  We developed a routine.  We started with a high-octane good morning quickie before he went off to work.  Most days, we did something blurring the line between romantic and dirty after dinner.  Then, every night, we had a slow, passionate fuck before bed.  And when we finished each activity, I’d go back to me.  Most of the time.  Sometimes, he fell asleep being cradled by the big version of me, and so I’d stay that size until he left for work the following morning.

            For a while, it seemed to be working.  I couldn’t call it a rousing success, but it as the days turned into weeks, it was mostly working.  Sometimes, I just wanted Danny to have sex with me, not my DHT-infused clone, but I wasn’t suffering a lack of intimacy. 

            Also, almost overnight I’d became a bit of a shut-in.  I didn’t want to see any of my neighbors—because I hated them all, but also because I was scared of my husband’s male co-workers.  I was scared that at any moment they’d get my husband’s phone, have me strip naked, and have me do things I didn’t want to do.  Inside felt safer.

            My garden was all but dead, but there were things on my list that didn’t involve going outside, like playing the guitar, re-learning topology, and cooking.  We had some exercise equipment in one of the guest rooms, so I started doing my morning run on the treadmill and working out at home.  I hated leaving the house so much that I’d even taken to having our groceries delivered.  The delivery boy was supposed to come inside and put away the groceries—it was part of the service I paid for—but I paid extra for him to just put them by the back door and leave.  Once I knew the coast was clear, I’d bring them inside quickly.

            It was tenuous, and I’d self-diagnosed with PTSD, but it felt doable.  I had my list.  I had my routine.  I had my Danny.

            But that only lasted about two months.

            The first time Danny forgot to put me back to normal, it seemed like an honest mistake.  Our morning quickie took longer than normal, and by the time Danny was shouting his way through his orgasm, he was already late for work.  He didn’t even grab breakfast afterwards; he was out the door and driving away.

            I spent that day as a giant hulk.  And, since none of my clothes fit a 260-pound version of me, I spent that day as a giant, naked hulk.  I felt so slow and thick.  I didn’t bother exercising as I wasn’t sure I would even get the benefits—I had no idea how this app really worked.  Holding the guitar felt unnatural, and I was a little afraid of snapping its neck.  My pecs kept getting in my way as I tried to read my topology book, which kept distracting me—and making me horny.  And horny in this body was like throwing dynamite into a gas tank.  Even cooking was a chore.  I was hungry all day.  I must have had five meals before Danny came home and shrank me.  He was so sorry that we just spent that night cuddling.

            The second time Danny forgot to put me back to normal, he called me from work at 10:30 and apologized.  He said he tried to put me back from work, but I was too far away for the changes to take place.  He came home with a bouquet of chrysanthemums, my favorite, and an apology bottle of wine.

            The third time he forgot to put me back to normal, there was no phone call apology, but there was another bottle of apology wine, and we only had sex because I initiated.

            The fourth time he forgot to put me back to normal, I could swear he did it on purpose, and there was no phone call, no apology, he didn’t even put me back to normal size when he got home, claiming his phone had died at work.  We still had our evening fuck, and I spent the night in my hugeness.

            The fifth time he forgot to put me back to normal was the very next day.  He went off to work with his phone fully charged.  I’d spent over 24 hours at this big size, and I wanted it to stop.  By then, it had been four and a half months since I’d left our property, but I wasn’t going to spend another day feeling like a muscle balloon, jacking off and eating.

            I was initially stymied by what to wear, but then inspiration struck me.  The first time I’d gotten bigger, I’d bought some leggings for the yoga I never did.  I had to pull with all my might and squish my cock and balls, but they fit me enough to be street legal.  It was no secret how much I was packing, but at least I was covered.

            The shirt was a different challenge.  There was a sleeveless tank top that I could get over my pecs, but it rode up every time I stretched, and it was so tight that there was no way I was getting it off by myself, but hopefully I’d be a more reasonable size when I took it off.

            I didn’t bother with socks or shoes; I just slipped on a pair of crappy flip-flops I only ever wore to the beach.

            Before I left, I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked absurd.  However, the fact that this clothing was barely containing me was at the same time intensely erotic, so I looked away quickly before I ended up spending all day masturbating after all.  I grabbed my wallet and keys—which I was just going to have to carry as yoga pants don’t have pockets (not that I would’ve been able to fit them into my pockets anyway).

            Considering the shut in I’d been recently, I thought it would be emotionally harder to leave the house than it was, but I just walked out the front door like I always had.  I briefly considered driving to Danny’s office, but that seemed like a recipe for farce or disaster.  Besides, this was a planned community.  There was a tram that went right to the office since everyone who lived in the neighborhood also worked for or was married to someone who worked for ChorrTek.

            Walking to the tram, I had to walk with my legs further apart so they didn’t keep bounding into each other.  I could feel my legs rolling past one another, and my tiny waist exaggerating my hips’ swivel.  My shoulders swayed back and forth as I walked, and if I went any faster than a causal saunter, my pecs began bounding up and down.  If all of the neighborhood wives had stared at me like I was sex incarnate when I was 70 pounds lighter, they stared at me now like I was a buffet dinner and they’d been starved for the last week.  I kept my eyes down and kept walking.

            I got on the tram, flashing the free pass I kept in my wallet, and made my way to the first open seat.  I easily took up my seat and the seat next to me, but thankfully the tram was almost completely empty.  It was me and one other guy, who stared at me, talking about me on his phone loud enough that I could hear everything he said.  He seemed to think I was a new trainer for the company gym and told the guy on the other end of the line that they should start working out.

            When the tram got to the corporate headquarters, my fellow passenger ran off as quickly as he could.  I gingerly got out of the tram, a little unsteady with the step down onto the curb.

            I walked through the front doors, instantly realizing I was bigger than both of the security guards posted at the front desk.  They were both young things—clearly right out of college—and they both looked pretty big, but I made them look piddling.  They didn’t even stop me as I walked past the security desk to the elevators.  I thankfully had the elevator to myself, or it would have gotten crowded quickly.

            I’d been in Danny’s office exactly once before—back when he hadn’t even been hired—but I knew where it was.  8th floor, down the hall, turn right at the potted palm, third door on the left.

            The only other time I’d been there, the door just said “Advertising.”  It now said, “Daniel Eberhart, Head of Advertising.”

            The only other time I’d been here, the assistant’s desk outside the door had been unoccupied.  It now housed a muppet of a young man with floppy blond hair and a slightly too-big suit.  When he saw me, his jaw dropped open.  He didn’t try to stop me either.

            I didn’t knock, I just burst in.

            Danny was talking to three of his underlings about market research.

            I cleared my throat.  All four heads turned to me.  “I need to speak to my husband,” I said.

            Without being directly told, all three of his underlings raced out of the room, grabbing their work supplies as they scurried.  The assistant closed the door behind me.

            “Tiger!” Danny said delightedly.  “Surprising me at work?”

            “Darling,” I replied sarcastically.  “You left me like this again this morning.”

            “I must have,” he acknowledged, “or you couldn’t be this big now, could you?”

            “These are the only clothes that fit me, barely, and I took the tram.  Turn me back now.”

            Danny indicated I should keep my voice down.  “I can’t do that here.”

            “Why the fuck not?  It’s not a proximity problem.  That’s for fucking sure.”

            His cheeks turning red with embarrassment, he admitted, “I let the guys think you’ve been this big the whole time.  That I never turned you back.”  He opened his desk drawer and took out a cushion just big enough to fit at his desk chair.  “I even bought this to support their delusion that you’re the top.”

            “And?”

            “And?  If I turn you back now, while you’re in my office, they’ll know everything.  And it would be rude.  It’s one thing if you’re at the house, but at my office?  They’d see it as a slap to the face.”

            “They?  They’d see it as a slap to the face?  And how am I supposed to take it?”

            “It was an accident.  I swear,” Danny said.  “Tell you what.  You take my phone with you, and as soon as you get home, you turn yourself back to normal.”

            “Tell you what,” I said, strutting over and snatching the phone off his desk.  “How about I turn myself back to normal now, and you can fuck your coworkers for all I care.  I think Jack and Jon P. especially would like that.”  I tapped the ChorrTek app to open it, and clicked “Revert to Prior Setting.”  Instead of changing back, I got an electric shock in my finger, making me drop the phone.  “What the hell?” I asked, picking up the phone.  There was an error message that said “Unauthorized User.”  “You locked me out of the app?”

            “I wouldn’t even know how to do that,” he said, taking the phone.  He tapped on the “Read More” icon, and quickly scanned the screen.  “Oh,” he whispered, “you can’t use the app.  You never could.  Because you’re the person synched with my copy of the app, you’re the only person who can’t use it.”

            “That is some fucked up shit right there.”  I was raising my voice.

            Danny shushed me again.  “Look, I’ll turn you back the second I get home.  But you’ve got to go now.  I know it’s a hassle, but it’s the last thing I’ll ask of you today. Please?  Tonight, when I get home, we’ll figure out a solution that works for both of us.  But until then, you being here will just cause more problems than it solves.”

            “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.  I went to cross my arms, but I underestimated the circumference of my chest and the thickness of my biceps, so I completely missed.  I figured it out on the second try.

            “Please just go home?  This’ll be the last time I forget.  I promise.”

            Before I could respond, his intercom went off.  “Excuse me, Mr. Eberhart, but Mr. Davis is here to see you.”

            “Fuck,” Danny cursed under his breath.

            “Who’s Mr. Davis?”

            “The big boss.  You met him once.  At the welcome party.  He’s the one who felt your bicep.”

            Ah.  Him.

            Danny pushed the talk button on the intercom.  “Tell him my husband is here.”

            “He knows,” the assistant said.

            Danny mouthed, “Fuck!” but then said, “Send him in, I guess.”

            Mr. Davis looked exactly as I remembered him, salt-and-pepper and everything.

            “Dan,” he said, nodding to Danny.

            “Mr. Davis,” Danny said, nodding back.

            “Mr. Eberhart,” he said, nodding to me.

            “Mr. Wells,” I corrected.

            “Right.  That’s right.”

            “What brings you here, Mr. Davis?” Danny asked petulantly, sliding his right hand, still holding his cell phone, behind his back.

            “All the executives on the VP fast track are going to have a lunchtime confab to talk about the upcoming reorg today.”

            “I got the email,” Danny said, nodding.

            “It neglected to mention we needed you to bring the…”

            Danny held up a folder in his left hand, “Already bringing it.”

            “Excellent,” Mr. Davis said.  “Perceptive to have it ready even though we didn’t ask.”

            “I aim to please.”

            I wanted to wretch.

            Mr. Davis pointed at me with his thumb.  “I’d normally ask what the little woman was doing in the office, but I guess in this case I should ask what the big man is doing.”

            Danny forced a laugh, but didn’t answer the question. 

            I was still standing there with my arms crossed.  I spouted, “I’m right here.  You could always ask me.  I’m more than happy to…”

            Danny interrupted me saying, “Mr. Davis doesn’t want to hear that.”

            “Hear what?” Mr. Davis asked.

            Danny’s thumb tapped a few buttons on his phone, and I felt my cock stiffen, thicken, harden, and engorge into its full twelve inches.  I moved to hide it, but some things are too big to hide, especially in yoga leggings.

            “It’s inappropriate for work, Mr. Davis.  I just…”

            Drawn by my sudden motion, Mr. Davis looked at me curiously, and then his eyes were drawn inexorably downward.  A sneer-like smile spread across his face.  “Yes, that is inappropriate for the office.  Just make sure you finish up by lunch.”  With a chuckle, he added, “Ah, youth.”

            I shot daggers at Danny, and he pleaded with his.  My cock started to leak.

            “This is an absolute joke,” I said.  “Danny, darling,” the word dripped with contempt, “we’ll finish this at home.”

            I walked out of the office and headed back to the tram.  When I got back to the elevator, there were two men also waiting to ride it down: Jack and Gary.

            “Rip!” Gary shouted, pleased to see me.  “It’s been forever, man.  What brings you to the 8th floor?”

            Jack pointed to my drooling, erect cock and said, “Um, I think that did.”

            “My man!” Gary cheered, putting his hand up to give me a high five, but I didn’t even acknowledge it.  “Come on, Rip.  Don’t leave me hanging.”

            “My name’s RT,” I insisted.

            “We know.  Rip’s your nickname,” Jack returned.  “It should be Rip Everhard,” he added.

            “That is perfect,” Gary said and gave my high five to Jack.

            “I’ll take the stairs,” I said, turning away from the elevator.

            “Dude, come on,” Gary pleaded.  “We think it’s awesome that you came to give your husband some mid-mornin’ lovin’.”

            “Our wives would never do something as awesome as that,” Jack agreed.

            Too frustrated to respond, I kept walking to the stairs.  I traveled down eight flights, feeling my body’s weight and density, my hard cock bobbing and bouncing as I made my way down.  I hated to admit it, but the simple act of walking in this body, especially when I had no choice but to be fully erect, was an erotic thrill.  My stiff cock running up and down the length of my hairy, meaty thigh was a sensation altogether new to me, and I liked it.  By the time I’d reached the lobby, I was more aroused than angry.  As I walked through the lobby, there was a small cluster of people, including Gary, Jack, Alan, and Stan.  Seemingly, they were all waiting for me.  Before I reached the exit, Gary shouted, “We were just sharing your new nickname, Mr. Everhard.”

            I was through the exit and half-way to the tram stop before they could say anything else, but all those eyes staring at this large, swollen, pumped, erect body—I felt a thrill I did not expect.  As I waited for the tram to arrive, I adjusted myself.  I was still hard.

            I was going to be hard until Danny put me back to normal when he got home.

            Grinning internally, I thought, “I might as well put this cock through its paces.”

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  • TQuintA changed the title to July 28th - One Last Thing (Additional Material Added 8/4/20)

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