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

[Mdlftr]

I LOVE these descriptions!
 

============= Chapter 29 - waiting ====

Thus, I had to fit my entirety between the wall and her desk—and I couldn’t move the chair without it looking even more suspicious, so I ended up sitting with my knees pressed up against my chest, my feet flat on the floor.

            In that position, my pecs swelled out to press into my legs, and my thighs spread out to press into my chest.  Because I couldn’t move her desk chair, I was also forced to contend with my width.  If I sat comfortably, my left arm stuck out from the side.  It wouldn’t be the first thing someone noticed when they walked in the room, but it did leave me visible from the door.  So, I had to wrap my arms around my legs.  Well, as far as they would go.  My full biceps had to contend for room with my thighs and pecs.  My lats were wide enough that just by themselves I almost was too wide for my hiding spot.  I wasn’t quite there yet, but I was getting there.  The whole position left little room for my cock and balls—I was basically tightly sealing them in a prison of muscle while flexing all of my major muscle groups.  The whole thing was erotic enough, especially considering my hair trigger these days, that my cock was half-erect the entire time.  It too fought for space with my thighs.  I felt like a cork wedged into a wine bottle.

[Mdlftr]

WARNING === SPOILER!! =====The mystery deepens============Chapter 32===============

  “I knew you wouldn’t last two weeks,” Jayce whispered, smiling coyly.  In that same conspiratorial tone, so quietly I could hardly hear it, and barely moving his lips, he asked, “Where’s the camera?”

            I shook my head.  “No cameras here.”  I began stroking his cock harder.  It reached its entirety of 9.5 inches and was starting to leak pre.  “Just the two of us.”

            Jayce looked around the room, scanning every crevice and tchotchke.  “Oh, I get it.  I’m supposed to find it at the end.”

            With my left hand, I began stroking the hair on my chest and abs.  “I keep telling you, there’s no camera here.  Just me.”

            Jayce took my hand off his cock and switched from a whisper to a sotto voce.  “Look, dude, I get it.  Bored househusband gets caught on tape.  I’ve filmed it a thousand times.  But I’m a pro at this.  Tell me where the camera is so I can make sure we get an epic money shot.”

            My face grew serious, and I leaned in to whisper to Jayce.  “Who told you this was being filmed?”

            Jayce looked even more confused.  “Isn’t that the whole point?”

            “I thought the point was the fucking.”  I reached out to grab Jayce’s cock again.

            He moved my hand further away from his body.  “Look, I promise you, I’ll make it convincing when I find it.  Those half-assed line reads I give, people expect that.  When I accidentally-on-purpose find the camera, I’ll be giving you Daniel Day-Lewis.”

            “You’re not that good of an actor,” I said.

            “Oh?  You believed me on Friday when I let your brother swap out the flash drives.”

            I backed up—as much as I could while still being in the bed.

            “Oh yeah,” Jayce said, a menace and an intelligence behind his eyes.  “I saw you hiding behind the potted plant.  I knew your brother was there.  I let him switch out the flash drives.”

            “But you seem like…”

            “An idiot?  That’s the whole point.  Cock-hungry dumb blond, too innocent to know he’s sinning.  It’s the Jayce Wilco star text.”

            “Star text?”

            Jayce laughed derisively.  “Oh, my god.  You think I’m actually some high school dropout named Jayce Wilco?  That’s a porn name if ever there was a porn name.  It’s not hard to create a fake online persona.  I’m Marcus Sullivan.”  His tone picked up a giddy glee at talking to someone without having to put up the Jayce Wilco front.  “I graduated the top of my class.  When I saw the way the economy was headed, I knew I couldn’t afford film school even with all the money I’d saved, and I wasn’t lucky enough get a scholarship.  But I’m tall, I have a huge cock, and I have beautiful, naturally blond hair.  I’m also a decent actor when the need arises.  So, I went into porn to learn the film industry and make a little cash at the same time.”

            “You got into porn to learn how to make films?”

            “Nothing better than a hands-on education. I shoot and edit most of my films these days.”

            “But there’s not much money in porn.”

            “Tell me about it.  To start making the real money, I had to take the little savings I had for college and invest it in a gym membership and a personal trainer.  Once I put on forty pounds of muscle, I started getting some high-quality, high-profile, high-paying parts.”

            “You put on forty pounds of muscle so you could study film.”

            He gestured to his body.  “I want these gone.  My metabolism was not made for a body like this.  I have to work out six fucking days a week.  The supplements alone cost a small fortune, perpetually eating into my savings.  Thank God for private gigs and vanity films like this one.  They’re where the real money is.  I get to put away a tidy sum and still afford the huge upkeep of this body.”  He got closer to me.  “One muscle guy to another, you know my least favorite part of having a body like this?  The food.  I have to eat like a ravenous pig to keep this bulk.  I had to create an interactive database to make sure I was eating enough.  I haven’t been hungry in four years.  I miss being rail thin me.”

            “Then why put yourself through all this?”

            “I want to make movies.  Nothing more insidious than that.  I know more about lighting, camera angles, storyboarding, editing, you name it, than I could’ve learned in ten years of film school.  And without the tens of thousands of dollars of debt.  Once I’ve made enough to finance my first two indie films, Jayce Wilco vanishes, I stop going to the gym, dye my hair, and Marcus Sullivan emerges in Hollywood as an up-and-coming writer/director/producer.  And I’ll act if I have to.”

            “What if they ever connect the two of you together?”

            “It’s the internet age.  They definitely will.  But by then, I’ll have established myself, and it’ll be part of my story.  Like Channing Tatum.  Didn’t hurt his career.”  Jayce… Marcus?... grew gravely seriously and looked me dead in the eyes.  “Now, tell me where the camera is so we can make this fucking film, and I can get my fucking money.”

            I stood up and backed away.  “There is no camera here.  All the cameras are at the office.”

            “In that case,” Jayce said, scooting to the edge of the bed, “if you really want to do this, we’ll do it at the office.”

[Rorange]

damn man! the plots just really carried me away! can't wait to see what will happen next!!

[ToolShedCub]

Sounds to me like Jayce need to spill the beans

[Valai]

Why does it have to be so risky 

Maybe it's not worth trying to find out who is behind this. But those are some big clues. Someone wants cheating footage. Is this he an existing cast member? Who knows.

[Ro20316]

That Fantasy was more like a confession. The guy wants everyone to know that he is just some dumb porn star and he actually wants to do something greater.

I liked how he got much of the info he needed out of Jayce he now need to knwo who si ebhind all of this and i ahve afeeling it might be Oz best friend

[TQuintA]

Chapter 33

            With just centimeters between me and Jayce’s enticing flesh, I pulled back with such force that my hand went flying back into the headboard, producing a loud thud.

            “It’s okay,” he said.  “I’m a little scared too.  But in a good way.”

            Fuck.  He still thinks we’re in a porn.  Trying to stop him, I explained, “I know you’re being paid to catch me cheating on film.”

            He looked at me bewildered, but then reached out for my hand again.  Right.  He thinks this is some sort of vanity porn.  Of course, he’d think I was in on it.  Inspired, I said the exact phrase that would end this: “I know your real name is Marcus Sullivan.”

            Jayce… or rather Marcus was physically shaken.  “Who told you?”

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.  “But, you can search this room if you want.  There’s no camera in here.”

            Marcus got up and began to look around the room.  The sudden change in tone thankfully took me out of the mood, and soon my cock had deflated. 

            When he was convinced that I was telling the truth, he sat down on the bed and began getting dressed again.  “I shaved for nothing.”

            Once he had his shorts and shoes back on, I realized I had to stop him from leaving, so I ran up and blocked the door.

            “I’m not going to fuck you without footage.  Yeah, you’re hot.  Totally bangable.”

            Whoa.  Déjà vu.

            He finished, adding, “But I’m not going to fuck you if I can’t get the footage.”

            “My husband is a wealthy man.  Tell me who you’re working for, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

            “I know your husband is wealthy.  He’d have to be to catch a stud like you and live in a condo like this.”  He paused for a moment to put his tank top back on.  “Besides, he’d have to be wealthy for someone to want to blackmail him.”

            “You were hired to blackmail me?”

            Marcus stood up defiantly.  “I was hired to fuck you on camera.  That’s what I do for a living.  I fuck on camera.  My employer didn’t specify, but it must be blackmail.  If you aren’t in on the plan, which you obviously aren’t, what other reason could there be?”

            “Who is your employer?”

            “I’d tell you if I could, but I was hired anonymously.  It was super sketchy.  Every instinct told me not to take the job.  Then I got half in advance.  In cash.  Mine to keep even if the footage never materialized.  I’d get the other half when I delivered the footage.  Too much money to turn down.”

            “So, you have an address, then.  Even just an email address?”

            “I have a phone number,” he corrected, reciting the phone number.

            “Dammit.  I already have that phone number.”

            “Then you have everything I have.”

            “No, I don’t.  You said you were going to deliver the footage.  To who?  Where?”

            “Once I verified that the flash drive had the footage, I was supposed to leave it in in a red envelope in my cart, unattended, in the mail room.  Some cloak and dagger bullshit if you ask me.  If my employer was satisfied with the footage, he’d send me the other half of my money.”

            I shook my head emphatically.  “You have to know more.”

            His eyes betrayed him.  He did know more.  “Look, I’m already getting a lot of money.  On top of the advance, I’m getting a daily stipend to prance around the C&G building, porning it up like a fuckboy, doing everything I can to seduce you.  Between those two sources of income, I’ve been well compensated for my time.  I get that you’re trying to save your marriage or something, but I won’t jeopardize my situation.  Like I said, the job offer was super sketchy, and I want to get out of this richer than I started.  I’m not getting in between a blackmailer and his victim anymore than I already have.”

            “If you’re so worried, why take the job?”

            “I wouldn’t have if I’d known it was blackmail.  I thought I was making a vanity porno for a married couple.  Wouldn’t be the first one I’d made.”

            Marcus wasn’t going to give me any more willingly.  “I get it,” I said, stepping away from the door.  “I’ll let you go.”

            Before he left, he stopped at the door and asked me, “You won’t tell anyone my name, will you?”

            “Everyone already knows your name.  You’re Jayce Wilco.”

            “Thanks,” he said, and left.

            I followed him into the living room.  Alexander and Mo were looking through his phone.

            “Give it back to him,” I announced.  “He’s leaving.”

            “Disappointing,” Alexander said, handing Jayce his phone back.

            Jayce quickly looked down at the phone and made a relieved noise.  Then, he grabbed his coat and put his phone away.  He ruffled Alexander’s hair and told him, “You’re cute.  But you shouldn’t look through other people’s phones.”  He leaned in, tipped Alexander’s head up, and kissed him sweetly on the mouth.

            “What was that for?” Mo asked, rising to his feet.

            “For keeping my secret,” Jayce said.

            “I know your secret too, Marcus,” Mo insisted.

            Sighing, Marcus marched over to Mo, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him into a passionate kiss.  Their tongues explored each other’s mouths fiercely for a good ten seconds.  When the kiss was over, Marcus asked, “Satisfied, sailor?”

            Mo nodded.

            “Good.  So, you’ll keep my secret too?”

            “Aye aye, captain,” Mo said.

            With a dissatisfied grunt, Marcus left the room.

            “You sure you can keep this secret?” I asked Alexander.  “It’ll ruin his plans if you don’t, and maybe even his life.”

            “I can keep a secret,” Alexander said.  “I keep a million secrets.”

            “Prove it,” I said.

            “If I told you a secret, all it would prove is that I can’t keep secrets.”

            I sighed.  “Okay.  I guess I’ll have to take your word on it.”

            Mo made a face at me that basically said, “Get rid of Alexander for a few minutes.”

            “Alexander, would you mind stepping out and grabbing us all dinner?”

            “Let’s just get it delivered,” he said, walking over to his phone.

            Mo grabbed Alexander’s phone and held it behind his back.  “Eenie has to tell me some things crucial to my investigation of C&G, and it would put things into a legally questionable area if you heard things you weren’t supposed to.”

            “Okay, fine.  Give me my phone, and I’ll go pick up something for dinner.”

            “Thank you,” Mo said.  He handed Alexander the phone and kissed him on the cheek.  “Nothing too heavy, please.”

            Alexander nodded and left.

            When we were satisfied he was gone, I told Mo everything.

            At the end of my story, Mo responded, “That explains why no one used the flash drive yet.  Jayce knew it was phony.  Okay.  We’ll have to give them a real one next time.”

            “Next time?”

            “There’s another pickup on Friday.  If Jayce doesn’t pick it up, someone else will.  This time, we’ll give them real footage, and I’ll have to find a way of tracking it they won’t think of.”

            “So that stakeout was for nothing?” I said.

            “Not nothing.  Don’t you see what’s going on here?”

            “No, I really don’t.”

            “Too bad,” Mo said, “because if I understand things, you’re not done being tested.”

            “From where I’m sitting, you’re the one putting me in harm’s way,” I pointed out.  “You’re the one who’s had me touch all these men to see their versions of the future.”

            “Eenie, you’re under a spell specifically engineered to test your marriage.  If you tried to run from your temptations, they’d just chase you.  Better to face them head on, get it over with.”

            “Easy for you to say.  You’re not the one whose cock has turned into a time bomb.”

            After a pause, Mo smiled and said, “Don’t worry.  I’ve got a plan.”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 34

            Mo’s words haunted me all the way through Monday morning.  Oz was coming home in four days, and I was no closer to understanding anything.  Mo claimed to know what was going on, but Mo likes pretending he knows more than he does.  If he actually knew more, he’d let me in, right?

            But he had warned me.  If he knew more but wasn’t tell me, it must have been to protect me.  Right?

            I had so much trouble focusing on my actual work that morning, especially since the harpies in the research department were stonewalling me on a status report, so around 10 AM, I decided to write Garrett’s letter of recommendation instead.

            Garrett and I had a tense past, and my brain was swirling with the memories of living with him for a year, so what should have been a thirty minute task (at most) took until lunch to finish.  Rather than sit on it any longer, I printed it out and ran it up to Mr. Carr’s office myself.  I knew he’d be in his office, and it gave me the sense of accomplishing something.

            “Mr. Myers,” he said when I came in.  “I trust you had a pleasant weekend.”

            “Yes, I did, sir.”

            “Excellent.  Come on in.  Set a spell,” he gestured to one of the guest chairs in his office.

            “This is just a quick visit,” I said.  “I’m here to give you this.”  I handed him the envelope.

            “Better not be a letter of resignation,” he scowled.

            “Why would it be?”

            “Your brother found all these hiring irregularities.”  He said “irregularities” like there was no U in it.  “You’re a moral, upright man.  You might be resigning in protest.”

            “We’re trying to stop and repair those hiring irregularities.  That’s what a moral, upright person would do,” I insisted.

            Mr. Carr grinned and opened the letter.

            “Why is it addressed to me and Hugo?”

            “It’s a letter of recommendation for Garrett Duarte.  He’s applying for a management position in the art department.  Normally, this is the sort of thing I’d address to Mr. Tyler, but I thought you might be the one making this decision in his absence, so I decided to cover my bases.”  I thought the conversation was over, so I moved to leave.

            “Don’t go nowhere,” he said.  “Lemme read it.  If it’s any good, I’ll give him the promotion whether Hugo likes it or not.”

            I nodded, and Mr. Carr scanned the letter.

            While I stood there, it happened.  The buzzing returned.  I was about to change.

            It was milder than any of the other times it happened, almost tentative.  I felt a butterfly-like wave of tingles all throughout my body.  Apart from that, I noticed that my belt was suddenly very loose, as though my waist had drawn in.  I wasn’t any taller, but I noticed I was standing up straighter, while at the same time my stomach felt tighter—as though it were constantly flexed.  My shirt grew tighter around my chest, shoulders, and arms—not to the point of bursting, but definitely tight and uncomfortable.  Oddly enough, it didn’t feel as constricting on my midriff.  At the same time, my pants became tighter, especially in the thighs.  I could actually feel my thighs start to press together as I stood there.  Just as soon as it started, it ended.  The changes were subtle, but they were there.  I would have to find an excuse to look at a mirror to really get into it.

            “That’s odd,” Mr. Carr said, a look of mild surprise on his face.

            “What?” I said, snapping my attention to focus on him.

            For just a moment he stared at me, like he was zoning out.  Then, he pointed to the letter and said, “You have a typo.  You said ‘it’s’ when you meant ‘its.’  Nothing criminal.  Just odd.”

            “I hope you won’t hold it against Garrett,” I said.

            “Course not,” Mr. Carr said.  “If he’s half as good as this letter describes, the job is his.  Lemme look at his performance reviews before you go yapping to him.”

            I nodded.

            “You’re dismissed,” he said.

            I raced all the way back to my office.  While I was running, I noticed that my legs were starting to get in the way of each other.  Because of my added height, even at this weight I hadn’t yet developed a bodybuilder’s waddle.  At least, not a really noticeable one, but it was feeling like I was getting one now.  When I got to the door to the stairwell, I noticed that my shoulders just grazed either side. They grazed two more doorframes before I was in my office with the door closed behind me.

            Once in the safety of my office, I closed the door and pulled down the blind.  I pulled out the scale Mo had bought my last week, kicked off Oz’s shoes, and stepped on the scale.  I had to bend a little bit further over my pecs to see the display—because now my pecs were getting in the way—but it said 240.

            “That can’t be right,” I said.  The scale was an electric model with a digital display, so I took out the batteries, found some new ones in my desk drawer, and put them in.  The scale blinked for a second or two, and then displayed 240.  “What the actual hell?” I said.  I felt heavier.  My clothes fit me differently.  My muscles had gotten bigger.  How could I weigh exactly the same?

            For a ludicrous moment, I considered stripping nude as if that would somehow fix my problem.  It had to be the scale.  Maybe it only went up to 240.  But, no, that would be a stupid place to stop a scale.  It was just broken, that was all.

            I decided to survey the damages the old-fashioned way.  I took off my turtleneck, and it definitely fought me harder.  I had to struggle to get it over my chest and off my shoulders.  Shirtless, what I saw shocked me.

            I’d had striations and veins forced to the surface, visible through my fur.  This was insane.  My pecs looked flexed even unflexed.  My shoulders, which I could almost see without turning my head to the side, had become so striated they were starting to look like pumpkins.  My bicep had a thick garden hose running down it.  Looking down further, I could tell that my waist had indeed gotten smaller.  It looked like Jayce’s had: youthful and small.  My Adonis belt stood out more starkly than I had ever seen. I was now the owner of a severe V-taper framing my topographical 6-pack.  I ran my hands down it, and it felt unreal.  Marble?  Metal?  Brick?  Steel?  Diamond?  None of those conveyed the warmth, hairiness, or silkiness.  I didn’t know what word I wanted, but I didn’t know a human body could feel this hard.

            And it wasn’t just my abs that felt that way.  My chest, shoulders (which I was starting to have trouble reaching), biceps, triceps.  Everything felt this hard.

            I peeled down my pants—they put up a more strenuous resistance than my turtleneck had.  And I could see why.  I guess my legs had gained a half an inch each.  Maybe more.  I didn’t know how to eyeball the difference, especially with my pecs getting in the way.  What I could tell was that they looked like bodybuilder’s thighs.  My legs had been big before, starting to get defined, but now, even through my thicket of hair, they looked like grooves had been carved into them, like canyons formed by thousands of years of river erosion.  Running my hands over them was one of the most pleasant tactile experiences of my life.

            That’s when I really noticed my hands.  Holding them next to my thighs, I could see that my hands had changed.  They weren’t significantly larger, but I could see veins in the backs of them, and some of the muscle looked more articulated.  To put it bluntly, my hands looked buff.

            There was one more thing I needed to see.

            I put my clothes back on and went to the men’s room.  When I looked in the mirror, my suspicions were confirmed.  I was gorgeous.  If my cheekbones were somewhat prominent before, they were extremely prominent now—ledges of a cliff.  My brows, chin, and jaw had all thickened.  My neck had even gotten broader and more muscular.  My cheeks were oddly hollow, like a fashion model’s, and the skin looked tighter and firmer around my face.  I looked ten years younger.  The whole look was capped by my hairy stubble burgeoning into thickness.  I had never even imagined a more radiant, masculine face.  The whole result was stunning.

            As I stood there, staring at my face in the mirror, I got a text message.  I pulled out my phone.  It was Quincy.

            Sighing frustratedly, I left the men’s room and went down to IT.  Quincy was sitting as his desk, fixing a phone.

            “What is it, Quincy?” I asked.  I heard my stomach gurgle.  “Make it fast.  I'm hungry."

            Quincy looked up, nearly launching out of his chair when he saw me.  “Sorry,” he said.  When was he going to stop being scared of me?

            “Don’t be sorry.  Be quick.”

            “People give me their phones to fix all the time.  I didn’t get to this one until this morning.  I spent most of the weekend trying to hack into the accounting database.  And I succeeded.  Well, I had marginal success.  I can get in whenever I want now, I can make a new employee profile, I can tell you how much each employee makes, and I can tell you who’s due for a raise.  I haven’t found any of the budget codes though.  But I’m getting there.”

            “This all could’ve been done over an email, Quincy.”

            “That’s not really why I called you down here.  That’s just why I was distracted when you came in.  I called you down here to ask you a question that I needed you to answer in person.  Mr. Todd came by my desk this morning and told me I was supposed to give real footage in the second drop-off on Friday.  He gave me this flash drive,” he held up a flash drive, “and told me to save all the footage to it.”

            “You could have asked this over phone or email, too,” I said, interrupting him.

            “I had to hear you in person.  It seemed like Mr. Todd was making this decision without you.  If I called you or emailed you, he could have intercepted the message.  The footage includes you playing with yourself.  Do you really want me to give that footage to somebody?”

            I nodded.  “Yes.  It’s a necessary sacrifice.”

            “Okay,” Quincy sounded unconfident.  “If you insist.”

            “I insist,” I said, walking away.

            Outside the IT office, I called Mo.  He answered, and I said, “Even if you already had lunch, meet me in the executive lunchroom in five.”

            I got to the lunchroom before Mo and ordered twice as much as I normally would.  I was starving.

            When Mo showed up, I had already plowed halfway through my sandwich.

            “Damn.  You weren’t kidding when you said you were hungry,” Mo said.

            “What the fuck happened?” I said.

            “You’ll have to tell me everything as you remember it before I can even take a stab at it.”

            In between mouthfuls of food, I told him about my whole morning.  I wanted to stop when the change happened, but he asked me to tell him the whole day up until I called him.  I complied, ending by reiterating, “What the fuck happened?”

            Mo laughed.  “You changed again.  I warned you.  You got bigger.”

            “But the scale you bought me says I still weigh 240.  I can’t possibly.”

            I could practically see the lightbulb go off over Mo’s head.  “There was an equivalent exchange.  You gained as much muscle as you lost in fat.  I’d guess you’re around 6% bodyfat now.  Maybe 5%.  We can get calipers if it matters to you.  This morning, you were around 9 or 10%.  11 at the most.”

            “Is that why I want to eat the world?”

            “Probably,” Mo said.  “It’ll be short-lived.  You’ll feel normal once you get a full stomach.”

            “You’ve read about equivalent exchange?”

            Mo nodded.  “And be thankful that’s what this is.  Having a body fat percentage this low from non-magical causes is a constant headache.”

            “You sound confident.”

            “I speak from experience.  I once cut like mad and got down to 5% to impress a guy.”

            “Did it work?”

            “Sure did.  He loved my vascularity and definition.  But I did not.”

            “Great,” I said sarcastically. 

            “There are some unexpected side effects of such an extreme body fat percentage.”

            “Such as?”

            “I didn’t have all that body hair, and it was December.  I was cold all the time.  All.  The.  Time.”

            “Did you catch the guy at least?”

            Mo shrugged.  “Irony of ironies, I was so miserable, sex was the last thing on my mind.  I didn’t even want the guy anymore.  But I really doubt the malediction will allow that to happen to you.”

            I nodded.  All I wanted to do was eat and fuck.  In that order.  “Do you think I’ll be able to put on some body fat if I really gorge myself?”

            “I doubt it,” Mo said.  “Not until the spell’s reached its conclusion.  After that, it depends what the goal of the spell was.  We’ll find out more as the spell keeps testing you.”  Mo shrugged again.  “This might be your body for the rest of your life.”

            “You never said that before.”

            “I know more than I did before.”  Mo leaned back in his chair.

            “Care to let me in on it?”

            “You should be able to piece it together yourself.”

            Ignoring that, I asked again for clarity: “This really might be my body for the rest of my life?”

            “Don’t worry.  It looks fucking hot on you.  Oz will lose his shit.”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 35

            Mo was right.  After a night of normal meals, an intense jack-off session (staring at myself in the mirror), and a good night’s sleep, I felt like me again.  Well, me with the sex drive of an entire gay fraternity.

            And I looked even sexier in my work clothes.  I felt such a sexual thrill that I decided to wear the smallest turtleneck that would fit me so it clung to my chest and shoulders.

            I actually felt charged an energized to do my work that day.  I had stared down a cute barista, a gorgeous bodybuilder, and a literal porn star, and resisted the spell at every turn.  Whatever the spell was going to throw at me next, I was ready.  I attacked my work with a renewed vigor, part from the surge in energy and part because I had my follow-up with Vernon that afternoon.  I was more productive than I’d been since October.

            When noon rolled around, I momentarily had a pang of longing for Oz.  No Tuesday phone call.  But I knew I’d see him in three days.  It was almost fitting that the spell was ramping up the same week Oz was coming home.

            Mo and I brought Alexander to the executive lunchroom, and we had a small shock.  Mr. Carr was sitting there at a table with Garrett.

            Mr. Carr stood up from the table and waved at us.  “Mr. Myers.  Cayden.  I’m just showing our newest manager the galley he has access to.”

            Garrett stood up, mimicking Mr. Carr.  “I’ve been here before, obviously,” he said, pointing to Alex.  “We can eat here as long as we’re with a manager or an executive.  But now I can bring my own guests.”

            “Congratulations,” Mo said.

            “Yeah,” Alexander meekly supported.

            “I guess this means I’m not meeting your in-laws,” I joked.

            “I guess not,” Garrett responded.  “You solved that problem for me.”

            Indeed, I had, but it was only fair since I gave him the problem in the first place. 

            Garrett continued, “But in all seriousness, thank you.  Mr. Carr tells me that your letter of recommendation was a big part of it.” 

            “I only wrote what was true,” I said.

            Then it hit me.  The buzzing.  More intense than I’d ever felt it before.  I could feel it buzzing all over me.  It felt like there were insects crawling under my skin.

            All I could manage to say was, “Mo.”

            Mo turned around, sniffed the air, and asked, “Pennies and wintergreen?”

            I shook my head an emphatic no.

            Mo got close to me, without touching me, and whispered, “They’re blind to it.  It’s okay.  I’ll make your excuses and you find a safe place to change.”

            “Don’t keep secrets,” Mr. Carr admonished.

            “It’s a brother thing,” Mo responded.

            I was afraid to run, but I was out of the cafeteria and in the stairwell before I thought about it twice.  As I clambered down the stairs, I kept almost falling.  I was getting taller again.  My center of gravity kept changing, and the stairs felt a variable distance away from each other.  That morning, Oz’s shoes had been a little too big for my feet.  They now were on the small side.  When I made it to the eighth floor, I was pretty sure I was done growing taller, but I had to duck under the door to get through it.  I was now taller than the doorframe.

            I booked it to my office, ducking under the door for a second time.  Safe inside, I ritualistically locked the door and lowered the blind.  While I did, I noticed that my sleeves didn’t go all the way down to my wrists—an inch of skin poked out.  The same was true of the bottom hem of the shirt, and my pants.

            Then I started getting thicker.  That’s how it felt.  It felt like I was getting thicker.  My shoulders moved further away from my neck, which grew wider to meet it, my traps growing up on either side of it.  I was so wide now that I was going to have to turn sideways through doorways.  Turn sideways and duck.  From now on.

            That’s when I felt my arms moving away from my body.  My lats were getting thicker, increasing my wingspan beyond what it already was.  My arms fought back; my biceps, triceps, and forearms expanded into thick, muscular cannons that caused the sleeves of my shirt to split right up the sides.

            I regretted wearing such a tightly fitting top as my chest went next, pushing out even further until my turtleneck popped off me, the rags falling to the floor.  I could feel my nipples migrating until they were pointing down, my pecs had gotten so big.  I could still see over my chest if I tilted forward, but I had to tilt.

            My lower body grew next.  My calves thickened, snapping the cuffs of my pants.  My quads inflated monstrously, pushing my stance wider, tearing my pants entirely off me.  I took a few tentative steps forward.  I definitely had that bodybuilder waddle now.  I then felt my ass growing, pulling me back just a little bit.  My ass was just barely contained by my boxer briefs. 

            The buzzing hadn’t stopped, but I think my muscles were as big as they were going to get.

            Looking all over my body, I noticed that I was still shredded and vascular beyond reason.  While I was checking that out, my body hair grew coarser and darker, thickening even more.  I reached up to my face and felt a dense beard—which had just been the beginnings of a beard yesterday.  My arms in the air, I could see the impenetrable tangle of my armpit hair thicken.  When I put my arms back down, the hair still peeked out it had grown so thick.  Even my underwear shifted from my thickening pubes.  I was utterly fucking hairy—even more so than Oz.

            The tingling now settled itself into my cock, unreeling it just a little bit more, stressing my boxer briefs again.  Going lower, the buzzing sensation encouraged my testicles to get even bigger and heavier, the last stress that my underwear could take before they split too.

            I was behemoth.

            Mo had warned me about this possibility on Sunday and had come up with a plan.  Using the scale and fabric tape measure, I assessed the damage and texted the results to Mo.

            The phone felt like a child’s toy in my hands, but it was either text Mo or spend the rest of the day naked.  And I had a meeting with Vernon in a few hours.

            I typed up the relevant numbers.  “6,8-265-10.8.”  My height was 6’8”, I was 265 pounds of muscle, and my erect cock was 10.8 inches.

            Mo’s response was two emojis: a thumb’s up and a clock.  Essentially, he said, “Got it.  Wait patiently.”

            As I waited in my office, I tried my desk chair.  I couldn’t sit in it the way I wanted to, but it would do if I kept some of my weight on the floor and never shifted positions.  I’d have to ask Mr. Carr where he got his. 

            After a half hour of nakedness, there was a knock on the door.

            “Is that you Mo?”

            “I have been called many things, Ian, but I have not been called Mo even once.”

            Fuck.  It was Vernon.  Me naked in public was his number one fantasy.  I looked at my clock.

            “You’re early, Mr. Bailey.  Two hours early.”

            “I do apologize, sincerely.  The sad reality is that my schedule became unspooled, and if we cannot have our meeting now, we cannot have it until next week.”

            “Sounds good,” I said placatingly.

            “It would be mutually disadvantageous to let this series of negotiations expire over such a meaningless bagatelle as my harmless prematurity.”

            “We can do this over the phone, Vernon,” I said, my tone darkening.

            “Considering my proximity to your place of business, it would be absurd not to conclude our dealings now.”

            Firmly, I said, “I am not ready for our meeting.”  Thankfully, the sheer panic I was in was preventing me from finding his voice as sexy as I usually did.

            “Piffle,” Vernon said.  “Our interexchange will last but five minutes.  I have two documents requiring your endorsement, and you should have two for me.”

            The papers were sitting on the top of my inbox.  “I don’t have the paperwork ready.  Come back in two hours.”

            “That is most preposterous, Mr. Myers.  I know how much punctuality and preparedness are a benchmark of your labors.”

            I texted Mo an SOS.

            His response was nearly instantaneous: an emoji of a clock.

            Dammit.

            “I do not see the necessity of communicating across a locked entranceway,” Vernon said. “It is most unbecoming of you to bar my ingress so.  I know I acted impertinently when last we met, but I shall be the paragon of decorum if you will let me enter.”

            He wasn’t going to go away unless I let him in.  And there was nowhere for me to hide.  Just with my height and bulk, I practically took up a third of the room.

            A solution came to me out of nowhere.  “I just did a post-lunch workout.  I’m naked and my room smells like sweat.”  It wasn’t even a lie.

            “If you’re trying to entice me…” Vernon said, trailing off suggestively at the end.  Fuck.  That backfired.

            I grabbed the rags of my former clothes off the floor and held them against my crotch.  At the doorway, I said, “I will let you in if and only if you follow my directions perfectly.”

            “Naturally,” Vernon said.

            “I will unlock the door, but you will wait until I tell you to open it.  You will come in.  We will sign the appropriate paperwork.  You will go with no further discussion.  Agreed?”

            “Agreed,” Vernon said.

            Against my better judgment, I unlocked the door.  I had waddled most of the way back to my desk when Vernon threw open the door.  “Did I hear you tell me to open it?”

            I threw myself into the work chair (with such force the wheels buckled) and hid behind my desk.  If I stayed with my waist pressed up to the desk, it hid my cock.  Unfortunately, Vernon had gotten a perfect shot of my entire ass.

            “I must say,” Vernon said, “you have nothing to be shy about.  If my posterior was immaculate as yours, I would conduct all meetings naked.”

            “You didn’t wait,” I said.

            “I have the documentation here,” he said, waving the papers.

            “Come in.  Leave the door open.”  I’d rather some passerby see my naked torso than be in a closed room with Vernon.

            This time, Vernon did as he was instructed. 

            He handed me his paperwork, and I practically threw mine at him.  The pen felt as thin as a lollipop stick, but I signed all of his documents and threw them back at him.  When Vernon had finished signing his, he placed them on top of my pile.

            “Now go,” I told him.

            “If I must,” he said, rising from his chair.  “Before I depart, though, let me assure you that I am more than amenable to engaging in all future business immediately succeeding your post-lunch workouts.”

            “Go,” I said, pointing at the door.

            Vernon complied.  I shut the door behind him and locked it.

[ToolShedCub]

OMG MORE!!!!!