A Lucid Account - Part 5

[tekuno]

Content warnings and description appear at the beginning of part 1.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Notice: I am considering doing my next multipart story in a format other than straight text. (I won't be starting it until all three of the current stories have finished.) For various reasons, I am a bit doubtful about the whole thing. So I put up a poll. If you haven't already done so, go read the thread, and then vote.

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A Lucid Account
Part 5

My success at introducing my other self to an equal was both exciting and frustrating.

It was exciting the same way all the rest of it was exciting: every night, I would drift off into a dream world of amazing sensual gratification. My other self was a giant sex god. He got his rocks off at least five times a day, now, and increasingly at least two of those times were with "Mark"; after that first date they had hardly looked back. I had to congratulate myself; Mark was a thing of beauty. He was sweet and tender, he was incredible-looking, he shared all my interests -- or, at least, the ones my other self had -- and having sex with him was a hundred, no, a thousand times better than anything I had ever experienced in either my real life or in my dreams.

On the other hand, the instant success I had achieved with Mark was a contrast with my frustratingly slow progress on everything else. The only place where I had more or less constant success was with increasing my other self's body weight. He continued to gain around five pounds every week, making him, now, the biggest bodybuilder in the world by an increasing margin. His penis continued to enlarge, millimeter by millimeter, but it required concentration on my part which was exhausting. And his weight gains were fairly constant, which meant that the actual gains in measurements were diminishing with time. Five pounds of muscle spread across the body will increase the size of a 15-inch arm a lot more than it will a 20-inch arm, and when you're starting with the largest non-fatty, non-syntholated arms in the world, the difference becomes a lot less noticeable.

I sighed as I looked down at my list of goals. Most of them seemed just as far-off as ever.

Well, there was one thing I hadn't tried yet. I headed for the computer, and downloaded an audio program. Then I recorded a brief audio clip: "taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis". With the assistance of the program, I converted it into an MP3 file, loaded it onto my player, plugged in the headphones, turned it on as a repeating loop, and left it running nearly all the time.

As I shopped for groceries, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. As I mowed the lawn, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. As I paid the bills, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. As I did the dishes, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. As I drove to work, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. Most of the day as I stared at printouts and computer screens, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. When I went jogging, taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. Each evening, as I meditated, I chanted along: taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis.

Taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis. I wanted them all for my other self so badly...

Taller, stronger, bigger muscles, bigger penis.

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I was having an incredible month.

Not long after Mark and I started dating, everything... well, everything started working perfectly.

My progress at the gym suddenly jumped. A couple of months earlier, I had actually been worried about hitting a plateau, but suddenly I was growing at least as fast as I could ever remember. In a single month, I put another inch on my arms -- and at my size, that's an amazing amount of beef to gain, period, let alone to do it so quickly. It wasn't like the growth I had at the office that one time, but it was impressive anyway.

In just about every measurement I took at the gym except my waist, there was a significant, measurable gain. It was like I barely had to touch the weights to put on more muscle. If I had been huge before, I was on my way to being beyond huge.

The high testosterone continued. The doctor said my testosterone levels were practically off the charts; he was amazed that I wasn't going bald. With Mark's assistance, I was cumming at least 6 times every day now -- even back when I was a teenager, I hadn't kept up that kind of average.

To make it even better, my cock had continued to grow. Over the month, it had gotten more than an inch longer, and wider proportionally. Mark was addicted to it, the feel of it, the heft, the taste... his handsome face was the perfect inspiration for my workouts.

But the best part came one night AFTER Mark and I had finished our third orgasms -- pushing my day's total to a record-setting eight. He was sitting on my lap on the couch, where we had collapsed after our frenzy of muscle and sex, leaning back as far as my bloated pecs would permit. I put my hands under his arms and lifted him with me as I stood up. I set him on his feet, and he turned to me, and we kissed. He put his gargantuan arms around my thick neck and traps, and we held the position for what seemed like five minutes.

As we pulled apart, he looked at me hard.

"You know, stud, I think you're getting taller."

-----

It was working! My other self was growing in every way, now! It wasn't what I had had in mind, no sudden hulk-outs, but every time I went to bed, my other self was bigger and sexier and, yes, more dominant. I had never realized just how much I enjoyed that. People were cowed at my mere presence. My sex partners (other than Mark, the only person big enough to keep up) were almost mesmerized into slavelike obedience by my sheer size and masculine presence.

The only problem was my other self's job. It was a lousy job; as an accountant, I had a very good idea of what the market values were for accounting, and I was getting shafted -- the only place in my other life where I was on the receiving end, so to speak.

And it wasn't just the pay -- illicit sex during the day on the job was fun, but now that I had a taste of sex with Mark, the tiny little normal people at the office were pathetic substitutes. My other self needed to be able to have Mark around all the time.

To say nothing of training; growing ever larger while working a 9-to-5 job was, I was pretty sure, preventing me from reaching my full potential.

There was only one thing to do; I had to arrange for a windfall. Something to make my other self independently wealthy, so he could train all day, and keep Mark as, well, a kept man. A lottery ticket? That might be difficult -- neither I nor my other self ever played the lottery, and without being able to take control of him (something I still had not managed) I couldn't actually force him to do that.

I tried chanting "My other self will suddenly become wealthy" during my meditation sessions for a few nights.

-----

It was a weird week.

Everywhere I went, I was finding money. Coins on the floor in front of vending machines, dollar bills on the ground in the parking lot, loose change in my pockets which I couldn't remember putting there. I've heard people say that this sort of thing is happening all the time, and we only notice it sometimes. Well, I had a jar full of change to prove it was really going on.

The weirdest thing was when I was fucking this woman at work -- I got desperate for a fuck during the lunch break, and she was the only halfway-decent-looking person still around -- and there was actually a roll of pennies in her, uh, coin slot. (Yuck!) She wouldn't say how it got there, and she got flustered when I asked.

After work and my workout on Friday, Mark and I had sex a few times, and then I paid for pizza with all of it. I felt a little bad for the delivery guy, getting a bag of coins and dollar bills instead of a couple of twenties. So I didn't make him give me a blowjob, even though I kind of wanted to.

-----

Damn, damn, damn! I wanted my other self to get rich, and he was basically getting a cosmic tip jar.

Well, there were two things I could do.

I could give up on making him rich, and just keep making him bigger slowly. I had a strong suspicion that he would never actually reach the kind of proportions I had in mind if I did that. At least, not before I reached old age myself and stopped having enough hormones to care.

Or I could try focussing entirely on money for a while, and see if maybe I could force the issue. After all, the arrival of Mark was a one-time event, and it had been fairly simple. Of course, it would mean that I would no longer be pushing the muscle growth, but I could more than make up for it afterwards, right?

I recorded a new sound file: "money fast, money fast, money fast".

I noticed after a few days that the people in my department were more attentive than usual -- every time I came out of my office, they all looked up, and stopped whatever moronic activities they were engaged in. Total silence -- how long I had been seeking that response!

I was very happy... until a few days later, when the CEO called me in to his office, one-on-one.

"I, er, don't know how to phrase this, so perhaps it's best if I just say it straight out. Are you in debt?"

I was, to say the least, surprised. I blinked a couple of times before I answered, the question was so totally unexpected. "Huh? No. I've got a six-figure bank balance, a very well-plotted IRA, and I've even paid off my mortgage. Why would you--"

"I've received multiple reports that you've been muttering 'money fast' under your breath while you work."

I thought fast. "It's, it's a part of a self-help scheme I read about. You chant a mantra to help you concentrate on what you're doing, and it helps you work. And since I'm in accounting, I thought I'd try to boost our profits, ha ha. All part of my dedication to the job."

He looked at me for a while -- longer than I was really comfortable with, to be honest. Finally, he spoke.

"Okay, you've got me in a dilemma. You're the one really reliable person we have in that department, as you know. But I really can't risk leaving the finances of the business in the hands of someone who may be cooking the books to finance a gambling habit or something. Tomorrow, I'm calling in a team of independent auditors to examine your work for the last three months, and I'm going to ask you to submit to a credit check. If nothing bad turns up, then we'll just forget this."

I walked back to my office in shame. I hadn't even known I was talking out loud! I wondered which of the idiots had reported me, or if all of them had done it, secretly hoping they would be chosen as a replacement if I was fired. I would have to change my habits a bit -- maybe chew gum at work to keep my mouth busy. At least there was no need to worry about the penalties; my fiscal stability was rock-like.

Fortunately, that night my other self inherited the better part of four hundred million dollars.

[HugestFuckGod]

oh my god! this story keeps getting better! The details, the design, the pace, everything it amazing about this story

[tekuno]

Originally Posted by HugestFuckGod

oh my god! this story keeps getting better! The details, the design, the pace, everything it amazing about this story

Glad you like it. I would probably keep posting anyway even if nobody said anything, but getting comments and "like"s is definitely encouragement.

I can't tell whether you'll enjoy the ending or not. (I'm surprised at how fast this is going!) I have a suspicion people will either love it or hate it.