The Smell of Cinders and Rain

[hickory]

I waved goodbye to Hank and he returned the wave with a smile.
And as he walked away my eyes were fixed on his beautiful ass and the way it looked in his jeans. I heaved a sigh and turned, walking home.
It was nice working in stock with Hank. He was capable, had a good head on his shoulders, and was willing to work and slack off as the situation dictated. He was straight, had a girlfriend, but had no problem with me being gay.
I held my jacket tighter and picked up my pace. There was a big storm coming in, according to the radio, and I didn't want to get caught in it.
As I stepped in the door to my house I found the lights weren't working. Great, just what I needed. Hank and I were receiving shipment tomorrow and I was hoping to have a nice relaxed evening so I could be well-rested in the morning. I crossed my fingers, felt around my desk drawer for a flashlight, and went down to the fuse box in the basement. The breaker for the main power was off and with a sigh I reached out and flipped it, but as I touched it, I got such a shock that it was like I'd been slapped in the face. I fell back, catching myself on the concrete floor.
I was seeing stars, and my hand was numb, but I managed to stand without much trouble, so I figured the damage was minimal. I slipped into the rubber boots in the corner and tried again. The lights came back on with a snap.
Still shaking the pins and needles from my hand, I climbed the stairs back to my house. Between the electrocution and the long day in the stock room, I was ready for bed, but thought I'd squeeze one off first.
I dirobed, washed my hands, and got started. I shuffled through my stack of porn, surfed the Internet, but nothing jumped out at me, so I just let my imagination run wild, and boy did it run wild.
Hank was shorter than me but at 6'4 so were most, but he was in better shape. The blue uniform accented his pecs nicely, and if I ever had an even remotely tangible reason to touch them I would take it. In my fantasy we were riding the freight elevator from the loading dock to the stock room, just chatting about nothing.
Then, suddenly, he grew. He gained a foot in height, and his body expanded with muscles that tore the blue shirt from him, exposed his body, and I watched it tighten and define as he grew to tower over me, nearing seven feet tall. He looked at himself, bewildered.
And in the fantasy I was bewildered, too, but I was turned on. And as he looked himself over, his eyes fell on me, and he looked at me with something new. His pants, which had split on the seam and were straining at his waist, did little to conceal his cock, and I saw his erection slither down his leg, settling at just under a foot.
He lunged at me, he took me in his newly massive arms and he kissed me. I threw my arms around him and kissed him back, and we fell to the elevator floor, writhing and grinding into each other, in my fantasy.
In reality, I came into a tissue. I was quite sleepy at that point, even though it was only, as I noted absently, 8:15 PM. I read for a bit and then went to sleep.

The next morning Hank and I received shipment as usual. After we had retaken inventory, we loaded everything into the freight elevator, and put it into stock. It was the usual first hour of the day. But shipment had been lighter than we expected so we finished with time to spare, and decided to have a smoke out back before the store opened.
We were talking about Dan Brown. Hank was going on about how great Dan Brown was and I was assuring Hank that he wouldn't think Dan Brown was such hot shit if he'd actually read anything else. I spouted off a list of recommendations and he rolled his eyes and looked away, then tugged at his collar.
Without his gaze policing me, I let myself give his pecs a nice long look. They seemed even more pronounced today. I let myself imagine what they felt like but took a drag from my cigarette to calm myself down. It was nearly to the filter so I chucked it.
He grunted, then, tugging more at his shirt. "Man, it's like, hot out here or something. It feels like my uniform's a size to small."
"Yeah?" I didn't even think anything was up yet, and glanced at the clouds. "I thought it was actually kinda chilly, this morning. I'm sure it'll heat up once the sun comes..."
I was interrupted by another grunt from Hank. I looked back at him, and thought suddenly: he's bigger. He straightened up for only a moment but he was definitely taller. He was tugging at his shirt. "Shit, I'm swelling up!"
"Was there anything in that cigarette?" I asked, concerned. "You're not lacing it with, like, stuff, are you?"
He shook his head, and just like that, the seam on the shoulder of his shirt split open and out popped a bulbous, round, hard shoulder from beneath it. I could hear the fabric stretch and groan as I watched his body outgrow it before my eyes. Finaly, the neck of his shirt tore apart and the whole thing fell from him in three big chunks.
He heaved a sigh, standing up straight again, the pressure finally off. Where the seams had been holding out were deep purple lines on his body. Oh, his body...
He was taller. Almost seven feet. He was panting, his great pecs heaving, every perfect muscle faintly glistening with the merest hint of sweat. The waistband of his jeans had snapped, and he stood in boxers that were far to small for him. He was still panting when he looked at me, and then he suddenly became lost, as if he was seeing me for the first time.
My mouth just hung open. "Jesus fucking christ," I whispered.
He walked up to me slow, and reached out a hand but didn't touch me. Then in one swift motion he cupped my head in his other hand and kissed me. It was a rough kiss, a kiss familiar to me but strange to him - unrestrainted, relieved in the knowledge that I was not so delicate as the women he was used to.
He pulled back suddenly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that I just..." I had my hands up, almost defensive, but I chanced a look down at his crotch, where the head of a huge erect cock peeked out of his boxers.
"Fuck! What happened to me?"
I shushed him. "Shh... let's just... keep calm. You don't want everyone to see you like this keep your voice down."
"What the hell am I gonna do? Do I go to a doctor?"
"I don't know," I shook my head. "No. Not yet. Look, just go home for now, I'll cover for you."
"Cover?" Hank was exasperated. "Look at me!" he shouted. I tried not to.
"Look, you can make it home now without being seen it's still early it's..." I checked my watch. It was 8:17 AM... nearly twelve hours exactly since I...
I went sheet white.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing. I don't know. Just go home, try to relax, I'll be by after work. Don't tell anyone."
"Don't tell anyone?" he retorted. "How am I supposed to get fixed?"
"I'll come over and we'll try to work something out, all right? Now get out of here."
We went to the supply locker and I found him a XXXL uniform shirt and a pair of baggy overalls for painting. But it still fit him snug in all the right places. Just as he was leaving he stopped. "Look about before, I just think I had like a rush of hormones or something, I..."
I waved it away. "Last thing on my mind, man. Forget about it."
He smiled and ran off, and I watched him go.

[philat99]

Intriguing! Hope you continue!
Mike

[hickory]

I found it difficult to stay on task at work.
I told our supervisor that Hank hadn't been feeling good all morning and hurled by the dumpsters after we had offloaded. This satisfied him, and I got back to work.
I ran through the alternatives. I discounted coincidence without a second thought. Maybe I was psychic - but why would I predict something so strange and something so in line with exactly what I desired?
No, the only possible truth was that I made it happen, somehow. That my fantasy had become reality. I had turned Hank into a tall muscle hunk, and made him gay - gay and totally in love with me.
Had it been a one-time thing? Could I warp reality as I pleased? Did I only have to want something for it to be there? There was only one way to know, and it was to experiment.
I bought a Sprite from the soda machine and put it on a shelf. Then, when no one else was there, I closed my eyes, and pictured two instead of one. I concentrated as hard as I could, until I could almost fool myself into thinking that my eyes were open and I was looking at two Sprites. But when I opened my eyes nothing had changed.
Maybe it only worked on people. So I went to the back wall and marked off my height with a pencil. I put my back to the wall, closed my eyes, and pictured myself getting taller. Not by much, maybe just an inch. In my head, I saw the cuffs of my jeans slowly rising up my legs, saw my head creep past the line I had just made. But when I opened my eyes and checked again, I was still the same.
It had been exactly twelve hours between the time I imagined Hank growing and the time he did. So maybe it took that long to take effect? So I would gain an inch at 10 pm that night?
At my lunch break I took a walk. Hank didn't live far and I considered visiting him to check in, but I decided against it. I still had to think things through.
I stopped at the Starbucks down the street. I knew the clerk, Clyde, only from going there so often. He smiled when I got in line.
"Hey Ben," he said with a nod.
I was distracted, and so gave only a cursory grin. "Hey Clyde. Can I get a tall latte? And a cinammon roll?"
I moved to the side after I paid, and Clyde started making my order. "Did Stacy invite you to her birthday thing this Friday?" he asked.
I forgot about our mutual friend, who used to work at Starbucks but now worked with us at the Future Shop. "Nah, I saw the thing on facebook, though. I might go."
Clyde looked up from his work for a moment. "Yeah I think it'll be cool. It's at the Kremlin, have you ever been there?"
I shook my head again. "No."
"Well it's really cool." He turned around to get the steamed milk. "It's got a really cool style to it. And domestic pitchers are ten bucks on Fridays."
I stopped thinking about Hank for a second and let myself stare at Clyde's ass. Maybe it was just the black uniform pants, and the way the apron tie made his shirt ride up revealing the portion of the back just above his butt, but it seemed spectacular. I had never noticed it before. Had never really considered Clyde as anything but the coffee guy at Starbucks.
As he turned back around my eyes darted back to his face, and I smiled as he handed me the latte. I examined him as judiciously as I could without drawing any attention. He had a young face, but his chin was dark with the onset of stubble. I had no idea what colour his hair really was, but he had it brown with blonde highlights. A tattoo peeked out from his right sleeve, but it was impossible to make out. His smile was cherubic, and his eyes grey. His demeanor suggested he was a homosexual but it was always a difficult call to make.
"Maybe I'll see you Friday?" he suggested as I took the latte.
I returned the smile. "Yeah, maybe. See ya, Clyde."
Was he into me? Or was he just being friendly?
I sipped my latte thoughtfully, and started imagining what a date with Clyde would be like. He was a little more effeminite than my usual type but he was still cute and he seemed nice. As my fantasy graduated from dating to making out, I found myself with an erection. And with twenty minutes left on my lunch, I shrugged and went to the employee washroom.
I washed my hands before dropping my pants and started to stroke myself off, picturing Clyde pushing me onto my couch, then pulling his shirt off, and in my imaginings, he...
I stopped, my hand cupped around my head. What if this was the missing piece? What if it wasn't really me that made things happen, but my orgasm? I looked down curiously at my cock in my hand, deflating slowly as I got distracted.
It was time for another experiment. I started rubbing again, getting my thoughts focused on Clyde. He was kissing me all over, pulling my shirt off, unbuttoning my jeans. But where normally my imagination would take over and give him a body befitting a heavyweight bodybuilding champion, I decided to go a little more subtle. I grabbed his face, looked into his eyes, and watched them go from grey to bright blue. This in and of itself wasn't really a turn on, so it took a little longer than usual for me to come, but eventually I did, into a wad of toilet paper, and after peeling it off my junk, I went back to work.
I had another brief break before I was done, and I revisited Clyde. Unfortunately he was with another customer and I had to deal with another barista, but I got a good look at him, and his eyes were still grey. He caught me checking and gave me a smile and a nod, which I returned.
So there was still the twelve hour factor, I assured myself. If he still had grey eyes tomorrow I'd know it was something else. I had done all I could do at work, so tried to keep my mind from it until the end of my shift. Afterwards, I grabbed some beer from the liquor store and made my way to Hank's.

[omelissokomos]

Very nice (despite the lack of paragraph spacing), and I can't wait to read what happens next.

[hickory]

[Now with spaced paragraphs!]

I knocked on the door to Hank's house and waited there for a bit. I heard nothing from within, and tried to peer through the warped glass window. The hall was dark, and there was no sign of movement, but a shifting light from the living room suggested the TV was on.

I knocked again, and shielded my eyes with my hand to get a better look inside. A motion at the corner of my vision made me turn, and I saw the drapes over his kitchen window shudder.

No sooner had I turned back to the door when it opened and I found myself staring into Hank's huge pecs.

"Hey man, quick, get in."

He grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me inside. I was surprised at how much power he exerted. But in a few seconds I was inside and the door was closed.

Jesus christ. He was standing in nothing but a red towel tied around his waist, and not tied exceptionally well, revealing most of his right thigh and the opening came teasingly close to his crotch. I tried to be casual about it, as if I looked at seven foot muscle gods in towels every day and this was nothing new to me. "Sorry, I just got out of the shower," he apologized, though I noticed his hair was dry. "Just let me find some pants."

He walked further into his house, and I looked at his bubble butt bouncing under the towel as I kicked off my shoes. After he disappeared I opened one of the beers and put the rest in the fridge, and wandered into the living room as I opened it. The TV was on mute, but was on ABC and was showing an episode of Kim Possible.

I sat down, and heard him approach. He was wearing a pair of tight-fitting khaki cargo shorts. They button looked like it was about to fly off, and it did little to hide his considerable bulge.

"I think the neighbour across the street saw me come in," he said.

I pointed to his kitchen. "Beer in the fridge, though it's not too cold."

He sighed with a smile. "Oh thanks, man, I'm totally dry."

I called after him. "And is this that woman who has like twelve cats and sells jewelry made of broken glass at the farmer's market on weekends? Because I don't think you've gotta worry about her."

Hank returned drinking out of the bottle, and sat down on the other side of the couch. After a long chug, he smacked his lips and set down the bottle. "Y'know, at first I was panicking. But just now I was like, I could just take off, start over. Somewhere else. Looking like this. No one would ever find me."

I paused. "Yeah, but like, what about everything you'd leave behind? Like your job and your friends. What about Marie?" Marie, the girlfriend of four months.

He got a look on his face I found hard to interpret. But I suspected he hadn't thought about her all day.

He waved it away. "I'm just talking, that's all." He took another swig of beer. "But I've been thinking..." he gestured up and down his body. "Like, about this."

I nodded. "That would follow."

"And I've come up with a few theories."

"Shoot."

He raised a finger. "One: government super-soldier experiment. They put some shit in the drinking water or toothpaste or something." He raised a second finger. "Two: unique combination of factors - the cigarettes, the salad dressing I had last night, the weather, just a bunch of stuff converged and made this happen." He raised his third finger. "Three: I've always been some kind of mutant or freak and this was like a second puberty or something." He lowered his hand. "Those were the best I could come up with. What about you?"

I chuckled inwardly at the fact that all of those options sounded much more reasonable than the truth. I shrugged. "Have you ever thought of, like... magic?" I felt like a child saying it.

He looked at me critically for a moment, then lolled his head impatiently. "I'm trying to be serious, Ben."

"So am I," I protested. "I mean, I don't see what the government has to gain from making you kiss other men." I stopped myself too late, I had already said it. I glanced over cautiously. He wasn't looking at me, he was fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle.

"Yeah... I really, uhh... I don't know what to say about that. I mean, I'm really sorry. I know you're gay and all but that doesn't mean you want every guy on the street to grab and kiss you."

How sweet. He gave me way too much credit.

"Hank, it's no big deal..."

"No, really, I don't want you to think that I'm like that. I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

I hesitated. Now I was fiddling with the label. "Well..." What are you doing? It's not cool, this isn't fair. "I didn't feel uncomfortable." All right, fine, I told myself. Let's keep things in check. But no, I just kept going. "I mean... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little turned on."

I looked at him, and he was looking at me. I quickly added, defensively: "I mean, look at you!"

He turned back to his beer. "Do you... do you want me to kiss you again?"

I froze. I knew what had happened. This wasn't Hank, this was a Hank of my own construction. I had done things to him, had changed him, and until that moment I hadn't decided whether or not I was the kind of guy who would take advantage of him in his current state.

My eyes went back down to me own bottle. "Well..."

But his hand was already on my shoulder. He turned me towards him and kissed me. It was more thoughtful than the first, less sponteneous, more curious, more tongue.

He pulled away slow, and I saw he had closed his eyed. He looked down. "I just... I've been thinking about you all day. I don't know why, I've never felt this way about a guy before but you're just so..." He ran his hand through my hair and I felt its weight on my head. "I don't even know."

I set my beer down. I guess I was that kind of guy after all.

I went in for a short kiss, rubbing my hands down his arms and letting my fingers pause at every sinewy fiber. He climbed onto the couch, and lifted my legs up onto it, straddling me. He rubbed his body next to mine, and in an instant my cock was hard. And I saw his shorts straining to contain his. The kisses became more vigorous, more bodily. I ran my heel up his swollen calf, and caressed his gigantic pecs now beading with sweat and heaving with every short breath.

He was so gigantic and beautiful, it was a literal dream come true. He raised himself up, and began to unbutton his shorts.

I reached out a hand. "Wait."

What are you doing? You've got an opportunity to end your little dry spell with a fucking greek god and you're going to mess it up.

Hank hesitated. "Sorry, I thought you..."

"Hank," I sighed. "Hank I know why this happened to you."

He stopped completely for a second, then shook his head. "What?"

I pulled myself out from under him and sat upright. "Hank... I really don't know any other way to say this, but it was me. I did it, I'm responsible for it."

He furrowed his brow. "How's that possible, what'd you do?"

"It was an accident. I don't even know how it happened, but last night..." I stopped, and covered my eyes for a moment. "Oh geez. Last night, I fantasized about you, and the fantasy came true this morning - exactly twelve hours later."

"Fantasized?"

"Jesus, Hank, what do I have to say? I was jacking off to a fantasy about you turning into a muscle hunk and..." I rubbed the back of my neck, "and, well... ravishing me."

He paused, and for a moment I thought I saw a grin playing at the edges of his mouth, but then he frowned. "Are you saying you turned me gay?"

I looked away. "That does seem to be the case, yes. I was a little more amazed by the giant muscles, but hey, I guess you see that everyday."

"How's that even possible?"

"I have absolutely no idea, Hank. I've fantasized about a lot of things that never happened. So this is new to me too."

"I don't wanna be a fag my whole life!" Hank was raising his voice. "What the hell have you done?"

"I didn't mean to, man, what do you want me to say?"

"What about Marie? Were you even thinking about her?"

"No, Hank, I was jacking off, and at the time, that's all it was."

Hank stood, putting his hand on his head. "What the fuck am I going to do?"

"I... may have a solution," it was occurring to me as I said it, but I wanted to save some face. "I was thinking about it all day. If I can... well if I can masturbate to a fantasy about you going back to normal, maybe the same thing will happen."

He looked at me. "Seriously?"

"Well I don't know. I mean we won't know for sure until after twelve hours have passed."

"So go do it!" he gestured out of the room. "You can use my bedroom, if you want. I don't have any, like, gay porn but..."

"Whoa," I held up my hands, "like right now?"

"Well, yeah!" he shrugged. "If it takes twelve hours then you should do it as soon as possible. If it's not going to work, I want to know sooner than later so we might be able to do something about it."

I looked up the stairs. "O... okay." I shrugged and stood up, walking out the living room. I stopped and turned. "Look, Hank, I am sorry, if it means anything. I didn't mean for anything to happen to you, it was just a crush."

He sighed. "No, I know. Just... let's try and fix it, all right?"

I nodded, turning to the stairs. "Yeah."

He walked to the doorway. "So wait... you let me... on the couch?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a fucking man, Hank, what else can I say?" I stomped my way up the rest of the stairs.

Hank's house was kind of messy but nothing too bad. His bed was unmade, and a bunch of clothes were on his desk chair, probably from looking for something that would fit him. I closed the door.

There was a picture of Hank and Marie on his nightstand. I got a towel from his half-bathroom and laid it on the bed, then took my pants off and laid on top of it.

The encounter with Hank went as well as I could have expected, but I was still embarassed and frustrated so it took a little while to get the juices flowing again. It wasn't too hard, though, even the thought of Hank losing all his newfound muscle was still pretty hot. But it was difficult to seal the deal. I needed some incentive. I tried to picture him making out with Marie, but it was futile. It was barely of my own accord, but I inserted myself into it. He wasn't kissing Marie as he shrank down to normal, he was kissing me.

Hmm... I stopped rubbing a moment.

I was sincerely sorry for causing Hank any problems. I didn't want to ruin his relationship or his life. But that didn't mean I couldn't have some fun of my own. Or at least try. Fuck, I wasn't even sure this would work at all.

I became naked, in the fantasy, and the giant Hank and I were making out. And slowly, he began to shrink. The muscles deflated on his body, and he was back to normal - the same size as he was in the picture on the nightstand. But in the meantime... my cock lengthened from its modest five inches to eight, and then - and this was really self-indulgent, - to ten. And my hair grew out. My neatly cropped crew cut grew into a full mane, reaching down to my shoulders, with bangs concealing my eyes. My beard grew out a little, too. Just as if I hadn't shaved for a week.

I chuckled mischeviously and came with a grunt.

[hickory]

I lay on Hank's bed for a few minutes, my chest heaving, my hand still cupped around my dick. The post-coital was lackluster. I stared at his stucco ceiling. I hadn't been able to pull the lust out of Hank. Even if this worked at all, it wouldn't turn him straight. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe he'd be able to fake it.

I wiped myself off with the towel, then put my pants back on and chucked it in the hamper. I took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

Hank was watching the Simpsons and chewing a thumbnail.

"Hey, uhh... how'd it go?"

"I'll let you know in twelve hours," I replied.

"So you did it?"

"Yeah. I used a towel, I put it in your hamper."

He shrugged. "That's fine. Thanks."

"Let's wait til it works for that kind of shit," I said. "I, uhh... I guess I'll go."

"Well, wait," said Hank from the couch. "Why don't you... I mean wouldn't it be better if you stayed the night?"

"Uhh..."

"I just mean, if it doesn't work, then you'll know right away. It's 6:30 now, so unless you want to come here early... you can sleep on the couch."

I sighed. I knew where this could go, but I didn't seem to care. He was spearheading it, after all. "Yeah sure."

We hung out for a while, just watching TV until it got to primetime, then we watched his Lost DVDs. I didn't ever watch it so he had to explain to me all about the hatch and the numbers and stuff, but otherwise we spoke little. We sat on opposite ends of the couch, and I made a conscious effort to keep from looking at him, so I don't know if he was ever looking at me, but we never touched.

Eventually, he decided to go to bed when we hit a Hurly episode which he assured me is always really lame. He left me covers and a pillow. I finished the episode and then turned off the floor lamp and went to sleep on the couch.

I awoke around 2 AM, according to the clock on his DVD player. I rolled over, and saw Hank's huge shadow in the doorway. I thought maybe I was dreaming, and stared at it for a bit, before he said: "Hey."

"Hey."

He walked into the living room. "I can't sleep."

I curled up my legs so he could sit on the couch. I shrugged. "Understandable. I'm a little surprised I could."

"I really like you, Ben."

In the darkness it was difficult to read his face, but I nodded. "Yeah, well... sorry about that."

"No, I mean... I want you. As much as I've ever wanted any chick, and I'm just lying in bed, and it still smells like you, and... and I find a part of myself afraid that I won't want you in the morning."

I sighed, but found my heart was beating fast. "Well, it's a very complicated situation."

"Can we be together? Just for tonight? In the morning I'll be straight again, and I won't look like this either, so we can just forget about it and move on, but tonight... but right now, I want you. I want you so bad."

I was already on him even as he finished speaking. I grabbed his face in both my hands and kissed him. I ran my hands down his tight back, caressed his ridged sixpack, pressed myself against his warm, hard pecs. He was immediately recriprocating, gripping my ass in his powerful hand, swinging his legs onto the couch so I could lie on top of him. His chest was so wide, hie body so long, I could just lie on him like a fleshy, breathing bed. I couldn't remember being this happy.

I was taking advantage. He didn't want this. Not really. Not the Hank that was truly Hank. But I was weak, and the voice telling me to pull back was drowned out by the cacophony of raging hormones and wild fantasies made flesh.

This is wrong. But you might never have a chance like this again.

As I was kissing him, he picked me up in both his strong arms, and I felt his taut bicep push into my back. I nestled my head against his pec, and he carried me out of the living room. We giggled together at the awkward maneuvering up the stairs. He strode through his open door and tossed me onto the bed. I bounced with a laugh, and he jumped on top of my like a gigantic jungle cat, and he went to work, almost feverish as he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled my shirt off. Then he grabbed my boxers, and with a single tug that hurt a little, he actually tore them right off me.

He started in surprise, looking at the ragged underwear. "Sorry."

"Shut up."

He didn't really know what he was doing. He was cautious and hesitant, afraid he would hurt me with his newfound power. But I wanted him to unleash it, I wanted to be manhandled. Eventually I turned him over, climbed on top of him, and lay with my back against him, I straddled his giant cock, at times pretended it was mine. I squeezed it with my thighs and rubbed it with my hands, lay my own on it. He convulsed, grunted, gripped the sheets. I sat up, turned around, and began to fellate him. It didn't take long for him to come. His semen was bitter and salty. I swallowed, but ended up drooling a lot of it down his shaft. I was surprised at the volume.

I wiped my mouth, and looked up at him with what must have been a stupid-looking grin, but the look he returned was lost, ecstatic, serious. Before I knew what was happening he had grabbed my shoulders, whirled me around like a rag doll, and was on top of me. I let myself wallow for a moment, his weight crushing me into his mattress, before he started kissing me, and it was clear he had released the beast. He was a wild thing, unafraid of his strength, confident that I could tough out whatever he gave me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waiste and clung to him like a marsupial, kissing him deep and long, my precum dabbing his abs.

We carried on like this for an hour or two, just feeling each other, writhing in each other's arms, gorging ourselves purely on each other. At some point I orgasmed but I couldn't tell you when. The only reason I knew was because I carressed his thigh and found my semen all over it. After a while, he collapsed onto his back. I snuggled in beside him, rested my head on his pec, listened to his mighty heart beating beneath.

"Hey, Ben?"

I didn't say anything but I swung my arm up and gripped his shoulder to assure him I was still awake.

"Like... I still hope everything is back to normal in the morning, but... I'm glad it happened."

This is what I was throwing away. I couldn't say anything. I turned and kissed his nipple, then hugged him close to me, and went to sleep.



I awoke with a headache, and was drooling onto Hank's chest. I lifted myself up, and sighed.

He was still asleep beside me. Nude, lightly snoring, and back to his normal size. So I guessed it worked. Even watching him I could picture the way he was only a few hours before. That smooth, clear face on the body of a beautiful monster. Thinking about it made my cock stiffen. It felt... different.

My eyes widened as I remembered what else I had done. As quietly as I could, I crept out of his bed, carefully picked up my clothes, went to his bathroom, and switched on the light. I raised an eyebrow, and grinned, actually whispering aloud: "Nice."

As per my fantasy, my hair had grown out. It was tusseled and wild from the bed, but hovered just above my shoulders. I brushed it from my eyes, and revealed a fuller beard, too. I could do this to myself. The sheer number of possibilities gave me an erection, reminding me to continue my survey southward. My cock stuck out in front of me at a pornographic length. I put my hand around it experimentally, and I liked the feel. I awkwardly wrapped the torn remains of my boxers around my waist, and then slipped into my jeans, shoving my new cock down the leg. After buttoning the fly, I saw with some pride that it was clearly evident that I had gained some size down there. Even through the jeans, the outline of my cock down my thigh was visible to anyone who took a good look.

I heard Hank stir in the other room, and yawn. "Oh sweet, it worked!"He got out of bed and I heard his feet padding on the carpet as he walked over. I saw him in the mirror behind me as he pulled up his boxers. He stopped. "Ben?"

I turned around with a shrug. "Yeah I decided to... well do a little experimenting. See how things go."

"You can change yourself too?"

"Apparently."

"Wow man, that's... wow."

I coughed awkwardly. "So, about last night..."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I, uhh... well no hard feelings or anything, right? Like, I feel straight again and everything but... well y'know, I'm young. Gotta experiment sometime, right?"

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah." Either I'd managed to reverse it after all, or he was kidding himself.

"Man this is so cool. You're like a superhero or something."

"Let's not go nuts, Hank. Anyway we can talk about it at work, we should be getting ready."

We spoke no more of it in the morning. I took a quick shower, I shaved off my beard, and cut off most of the hair. It was still longer, still more wild, but not to degrees that would seem inhuman.

Hank didn't have much to eat, but I made myself a bowl of cheerios as he ate a pop-tart. Every time I looked at him, he averted his eyes.

We walked to work in silence.

[omelissokomos]

Thanks for continuing the story. Like Ben said, the possibilities are endless, and I have to say I enjoy the moderate pacing it has so far although I can't help but feel that Ben might do something inadvertently drastic.

Thanks too for fixing the paragraph formatting.

[arpeejay]

Thanks for the kind words, fellas! It's nice to know you can still make progress even when yer an old geezer!

xoxo

Richard

[arpeejay]

Originally Posted by arpeejay

Thanks for the kind words, fellas! It's nice to know you can still make progress even when yer an old geezer!

xoxo

Richard

I posted this in the wrong place (obviously!)

R

[hickory]

It was actually a little difficult walking with my manhood doubled in size. Even flaccid there was a lot of pressure, and I found the sensation equal parts annoying and gratifying.

I don't know whether or not Hank noticed. He would occasionally glance at me and I know I was wincing but I don't think he put it together. But who knows but him? He seemed committed to maintaining silence, to the point I nearly considered putting in my earbuds and listening to my iPod. I didn't mind though, I was occupied. My mind was racing at what to do next. I wanted to confirm that Clyde had changed but I figured this was a foregone conclusion. My guts were in a knot, and I was possessed of a chronic, if passive, sensuousness. I really wanted to have some more sex.

We walked in the front doors of Future Shop together and Hank went straight to the back room without a word. But Stacy flagged me down to give me a USB key full of episodes of the Tudors, which she wanted me to catch up on, despite never watching Rome which I'd been recommending for like three years.

I changed into my uniform in the bathroom, looking at the bulge again. I smirked with a new confidence, and it felt good. I thought to myself: Why am I concerning myself with poor innocent straight Hank when half the gay population of the city would kill to have this monster all to themselves?

Another thought occured to me - I did have the day off tomorrow. A plan began to form.

I stripped down, sat on the toilet, and jacked off. With the thoughts coming to me that were coming to me, I barely had to touch my cock to get an erection, and it thrust up from my crotch with a fullness and enthusiasm I had never imagined possessing before. I wrapped a hand around it and then another. I felt so powerful.

My fantasy was of me, alone, here, in this bathroom, sitting naked on a public toilet, squeezing one off. And while I did, my muscles tightened, my hint of a gut melted into abs, my pecs heaved out, my arms became hard and round, my calves bulged, my butt inflated. The image of myself in this fantasy wasn't nearly as built as Hank had become, nor did I get any taller, but it was a body that was still very well put together, and thinking about it was enough to climax. I came once again into a wad of toilet paper, but there was more cum than usual. It soaked through the cheap toilet paper in one blast, and on the second, my palm atop it was slick with semen. I lazed back, sighing.

I couldn't stay long, my shift was probably in the midst of starting. It was almost disappointing seeing my own, regular body after that daydream, even if it was my own regular body with a cock twice as big as it had been the morning before. I cleaned myself off and checked my cell phone for the time - 8:04. It changed to 8:05 as I watched it.

I got dressed and got to work.

It was a long day, an agonizing day. I realized early on that Hank was avoiding me. We'd pass and he'd give me the smile-and-nod, which I'd return, but he never volunteered to help me with anything or ask for my help when he usually would. And he took a smoke break without inviting me to go with him, which was virtually unheard of. I put little thought into it, at that point. He'd been through a whole fucking lot in the past twenty-four hours, and if he wanted some space, I wasn't going to argue with him about it.

When my lunchtime came around, I went to Starbucks, but Clyde wasn't working. I didn't really have to prove anything to myself. It was clear what I could do, even if the full extent still needed some clarification, and I didn't need any more proof of it. Still, I was disappointed enough to go to Subway instead.

I was listening to the National on my iPod when I came back into the store, but seeing Stacy wasn't busy I unplugged my headphones and went to talk to her.

She saw my iPod and her face lit up. "Did you watch any of the Tudors?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not watching anything on this tiny fucking screen, I'll play them on my PS3. Oh, and: fuck you! Watch Rome."

"I know I know, it's on the list, right after Lost. I need to catch up before the new season is out."

I nodded. "So... your buddy Clyde from Starbucks..."

She gave me a sidelong look and smiled. "Yeah, my buddy Clyde..."

"I was just wondering if you knew when he was working next," I said with a shrug.

She laughed. "Now why would you wanna know about that, Ben?"

I made a face. "Don't be such a bitch. Do you or don't you?"

"You're out of luck for a bit, he's gone to Windsor for a few days. He'll be back for my birthday party, though, so you'll see him there since you're coming to my birthday party." She affixed me with a mock critical glare. "You are coming to my birthday party, right, Ben?"

"Yeah yeah yeah," I waved her away, and turned to go into the back room.

She called after me. "So how long are you gonna dance around asking if he's single?"

I looked back, smiling, and gave her the finger.

I changed back into my uniform shirt and just as I exited the bathroom I saw Hank coming in from outside. He rushed to the stock desk, avoiding looking at anyone. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. Had he been crying? That would certainly be a first. More likely he'd just been smoking and some smoke got in his eyes or something. I dismissed it out of hand. But something guilty in the back of my head gnawed on me. Something that told me I wasn't finished with Hank, that I still had a responsibility. I stifled it. Hank didn't concern me, not now, not for the moment. I'd deal with him later.

Hank went to lunch after I came back, but when we were both on shift I realized I was guilty of the same thing he was. He wasn't avoiding me, we were avoiding each other. It had been a lonely shift, and it was the both of us making it that way. As the second half of the day neared its end, I decided to try and break the ice again.

He was breaking into the candy machine with a paperclip, and I went up to him. When he heard me coming he started, stood up, and hid the paperclip, but when he saw it was me he relaxed.

I leaned against a shelf. "So I had to put a TV in this woman's SUV today and the whole, time, start to fucking finish, she's on her cell phone."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I don't even think she ever looked at me. And she'd got a whole bunch of shit from Ikea, too, and her car was full so I had to move a bunch of shit around. It took like ten minutes, and all the time, she's on the phone."

"What a bitch."

"I agree, but that's not all. This whole conversation that she was having was about a dead body."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah she must be some kind of nurse or something she was trying to convince the guy on the other end of the line that some dead guy she had found hadn't committed suicide."

"Man, that's trippy," he said, turning back to the candy machine. He slipped in the paperclip and took out a handful of skittles. He reached them out to me and I grabbed a few.

He related to me his problem customer of the day (a man unsuccessfully trying the whole time to keep his four-year-old daughter from screaming at the top of her lungs), we stole more candy, and then got ready to shift off.

Things were back to normal. We were co-workers, not ex-lovers. He was telling me about the last South Park as we walked out the store, and then he paused, and frowned for a moment. But the moment passed, he smiled, and quickened his pace. I looked out the glass doors, and saw Marie waiting for him outside.

"What are you doing here?" asked Hank as he left the store, me a half-step behind.

"I was just in the area, thought I'd meet you," said Marie with a shrug, and to me: "Hey Ben."

I smiled. "Hey Marie." Already I was untangling my earbuds, and walking away. "I'll see you guys."

"You in tomorrow?" called Hank.

"Nah, I'll see you Thursday." I said, still walking. I stopped, focused on untangling the cords.

Hank and Marie kissed, and then they hugged, and as they embraced, Hank put his head on her shoulder, and looked straight at me, and I looked straight back. I put my earbuds in, and started the iPod from where it had left off. I turned and walked away from them.

I'm getting nervous.
Na na na na na na na
No sign
Of a friend of mine.
Na na na na na na na