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Weird, But Sweet (Complete Story, 1/18/23, Bonus Material added 1/25/23)


TQuintA

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23 inches of cock sounds like a dream for Mason (and us). I’m still firmly in the camp that wants him to beef up even more though.  With all the twists and turns, a 675 pound Mason isn’t out of the realm of possibility if there was a new wayward curse.  He’d still be mobile, especially with all that yoga he’s doing!  Awesome chapters and I can hardly wait until next Wednesday to see what happens next.

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2 hours ago, actorsarecool said:

23 inches of cock sounds like a dream for Mason (and us). I’m still firmly in the camp that wants him to beef up even more though.  With all the twists and turns, a 675 pound Mason isn’t out of the realm of possibility if there was a new wayward curse.  He’d still be mobile, especially with all that yoga he’s doing!  Awesome chapters and I can hardly wait until next Wednesday to see what happens next.

From your lips to God's (the author's) ears!

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You had me several chapters back at, "..but my hip was dislocated."  

After that, all the stats became overwhelming.

What's keeping it real is 6 pounds of growth per 3 workouts, or 2 pounds per workout - that I can handle!

"350" "400" "675" , 23 inches, etc. is going beyond the bounds of "willing suspension of disbelief" for me. What's keeping it real is the  humor and the dialog.

LOVE the dialog and the smart a-- asides! 

@TQuinta, your muscle and growth descriptions are unrivaled!  I don't get the appeal of a 23 inch cock or being over 300 pounds, but, hey, this IS fantasy!  Well presented! 

The practical details of working magic are a nice touch, along with the Harry-Potter-style spell names!  Loving this muscle growth universe you've created!

Mdlftr

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2 hours ago, Mdlftr said:

You had me several chapters back at, "..but my hip was dislocated."  

After that, all the stats became overwhelming.

What's keeping it real is 6 pounds of growth per 3 workouts, or 2 pounds per workout - that I can handle!

"350" "400" "675" , 23 inches, etc. is going beyond the bounds of "willing suspension of disbelief" for me. What's keeping it real is the  humor and the dialog.

LOVE the dialog and the smart a-- asides! 

@TQuinta, your muscle and growth descriptions are unrivaled!  I don't get the appeal of a 23 inch cock or being over 300 pounds, but, hey, this IS fantasy!  Well presented! 

The practical details of working magic are a nice touch, along with the Harry-Potter-style spell names!  Loving this muscle growth universe you've created!

Mdlftr

I think my favorite part about TQuinta's writing is that my disbelief is suspended in any situation.  Like, yeah, I know it's impossible for someone to gain 12 pounds of muscle and a half-inch of dick in one day, I can't let someone borrow 20 pounds of my own muscles, and witchcraft does not exist (at least not in this universe).

However, the way everything comes together-- the dialogue, the emotions, the slice-of-life moments, the vivid descriptions, even the unexpected twists-- everything is written in such a clear and interesting way that I can picture it.  Even if it's not real or possible in this reality, it's real and possible in the story.  And, even if nobody in this story actually becomes a 750-lb mass monster with a 36-inch dick, or whatever unattainable size one might imagine or be "in to," I know TQuinta could write it into existence and make it believable!

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And I am hoping Roy turns out to be mega strong as well as mega huge because I want him to be airfucking Mason (for a long time!) and saying to Mason "You're as light as a kitten, Big Boy, I can do this all day!" Not to be prescriptive or anything! 

😂😂😂

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Chapter 35

            The next day at the gym, I moved forward with the plan Mason and I came up with.  I was not going to let this vacation go to waste.

            After my three morning workouts, I was feeling particularly tight, particularly buff, particularly huge.  My workout clothes were straining over my body, especially my chest, thighs and ass.  It was unsurprising.  I’d been wearing these clothes since I was 190 pounds, and after my three morning workouts, I had to be over 230.

            I strutted out of the gym, ready to jog home to have lunch with Mason.  I hoped that my new clothes had come in because I didn’t fancy busting out of my clothes during my afternoon workouts.

            As soon as my foot hit the sidewalk outside the gym, Carey appeared, as if out of nowhere.

            “Afternoon, Whitaker.  You’re looking particularly swole.”

            “Carey,” I said flatly.

            “You called your supplier yet?”

            Groaning, I pulled out my phone and called Mel right there in front of Carey.

            Before I could say word one, Mel began lacing into me.  “What the fuck, Roy?  What the actual fuck?”

            “Calm down,” I said.

            “Calm down?  You want me to calm down?  I saw you at the gym this morning.  You were huge.  Way bigger than you were when I sold you the stuff.  I ran out of there when I saw you.  What the fuck, man?”

            I was about to bullshit my way through an answer that didn’t require a confession of witchcraft, but Mel cut me off.  “I told you not to take more than one a day.  One.  A.  Day.  Those were my specific instructions.  You want us to get busted?  This stuff can’t be legal, Roy.  I’m not going to jail for you.”  I could tell Mel was obviously a no-go, so I put the phone on speaker so Carey would hear the rest.  “You’re cut off.  Don’t look for me again—I won’t sell you jack shit anymore.  And I’m changing my number.  And I’m changing gyms.  Fuck, I might move across state lines.  Goodbye, Roy.”  With that, he hung up.

            I put my phone away and looked innocently at Carey.  “Well,” I said, “my supplier is no longer my supplier.”

            Carey raised an eyebrow dubiously.

            “He doesn’t like how public my bulking has been.  He’s skittish.”

            Carey glowered.

            “Sorry,” I said.  “I know you wanted to sell it at the gym or something, but there’s nothing I can do.”  I moved to walk around him, but in typical Carey fashion, he stopped me.

            “I didn’t want to sell it.  I wanted to take it, Whitaker.  Keeping muscle when you’re months from turning 60 is hard enough.  Putting on more mass is a fucking impossible challenge.”

            That inspired me.  “I’m willing to give you one of my doses.  A sign of good faith on my part, you put in a good word with the mayor on your part.”  I did have two extra vials.  Since the transfiguration had an expiration date, I might as well use my extras to my advantage.

            “One?”  Carey seemed especially unsatisfied.

            “If you follow my instructions exactly, and I mean exactly, a dose should get you about 5 pounds.  Maybe as much as 10.”

            Carey stepped up close to me, trying to intimidate me, even though I was now self-evidently bigger than him. “Two doses.”

            “I can be persuaded to give you two.  But, you have to use your connections to expedite all my permits, you have to take the stuff exactly as I tell you to, and you have to do your workouts with me.”

            “Why would I have to work out with you?” Carey asked gruffly.  “If the stuff works, the stuff works.”

            “To get the most out of this stuff, you’ll be doing 5 or 6 workouts in one day.  My mother was a doctor; she taught me some therapeutic massage techniques.  If you don’t let me massage you between workouts, you’ll be in too much pain to do a second workout.”  It was close enough to the truth to not feel like a lie.

            Carey weighed his options.  “I wouldn’t mind being manhandled by you.  I’d prefer it was Mister, but you’re juicy and thick.  Tomorrow.  You’ll give me both doses tomorrow.”

            I shook my head.  “Doubling up on the doses won’t make it doubly effective.  How about tomorrow and next Wednesday?”

            Carey put his hand out, businesslike.  “You drive a hard bargain, Whitaker.  See you tomorrow morning.”  Before I could let go of his hand, he pulled me in closer.  “Pull no punches, show no mercy, work me harder than you would your man.”

            “I’ll text you the workout plan when I get home.  And prepare five times as much food as you think you’ll need.”

            Carey gave me a thumbs up, and I jogged home.  As I jogged, I could tell my cock was hanging bigger, my balls larger.  They bounced more heavily as I moved.  When I hopped into the shower, I got visual confirmation of just how much bigger I was—all over.  I turned down the water temperature a little to prevent a compulsory wank.

            Hearing I was home, Mason joined me in the bathroom.

            “We were swamped at the bakery this morning,” Mason said over the water.

            “How’d Kayla do?”
            “Brilliantly,” he said, proudly.  “She reorganized the method customers use to line up so people wouldn’t block the door anymore.”

            “Cool.  I’ll take a look at it later.”

            “She also didn’t run out of croissants in the first hour.”

            Now I was impressed.  “How’d she manage that?  I always run out of croissants before 7.”

            “She held off on making the specialty breads until later in the morning and made twice as many croissants before the store opened.”

            “But the rye takes forever to make.”

            “You never run out of rye,” Mason said.  “In fact, you often have to sell it at a reduced price as day-old bread.  She prioritized the money-maker.”

            “Smart woman,” I said rinsing out my hair.

            “Did you have a fun morning?”

            “‘Fun’ is a strong word.  Carey strong-armed me into giving him a dose and spending tomorrow with him.”

            Mason sighed.  “Well, Sammy and I are doing yoga tomorrow night, so it was going to be a 6-workout day anyway.  Do it for the new store.”

            “My thoughts exactly,” I responded, turning off the shower and stepping out.

            Mason wolf whistled at me as I dried off.

            “Looking big,” he complimented.  “Good thing your new clothes arrived.  I put the really big ones in the hall closet.  The 2Xs are on your bed, ready to go.”

            “Thanks, sweetness,” I said, slapping his ass as I walked past him.

            “That stung!” Mason said, surprised and delighted.  “You must be getting stronger!”

            I smiled cockily.  “Imagine how much it’ll sting when I’m 350.”

            I went into the bedroom to look at the clothes Mason got me.  Normally, I didn’t let him buy me clothes.  He tends to buy me clothes that he’d wear, and frankly, they’re just not me.  For instance, today, he’d been wearing a baby blue Tweety Bird shirt, and Tweety was saying, “Sufferin’ Succotash.”  It’s cute.  I get the joke.  On him it looks adorable, even at his gargantuan size.  On me, though, clothes like that make me look like I’m trying too hard and draw all the wrong attention.

            As a result, I was worried about what he’d bought.  But when I saw them, all fear evaporated.  The clothes he had called unfashionable and shabby were exactly my aesthetic.  Solid colors, no prints, shades of blue, green, grey, and black.

            “Thank you,” I called out, relieved.  “Not a cartoon character among them.”

            “Like you could pull off Looney Toons Couture,” he called from the kitchen.

            The rest of the day went exactly as anticipated, no surprises, no ambushes.  When I got home for dinner, Mason pulled me into the living room before I could even get in the shower.  He tilted his head, pointed to the scale with his right hand, and unfurled the measuring tape from his left.

            “Are you going to do this every night?” I asked, stepping on the scale.  I was excited about my growth too, but this much ritual felt a little excessive, and I’m a practicing he-witch.

            “Of course we’re doing this every night.  I had to stop myself from making a line graph with star stickers to display on the wall.”  He looked at the scale’s readout and announced, “237.5.”  He said it with awe and reverence, even though he outweighed me by more than 200 pounds.  Like a supplicant bowing before his lord, he kneeled down and slowly lowered my workout shorts.  Delicately, tenderly, lovingly, he tickled the length of my cock with his fingertips until it sprang into a full erection: strong, rigid, vibrating, and leaking.  Then, he put the tape measure next to my cock and said, “9 inches.  A full nine inches.  This is a huge cock.”  Again, the compliment felt a little hollow considering he was packing a 20-inch Titan missile.

            He saw I was discontent with him fussing over me like this, so he said, “Oh, come on.  Let me have my fun.  If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a blow job.”

            At that, I put my hands on my hips and thrusted out my cock for him.

            “After your shower, hotshot,” he said.

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