Bigger than

by BRK   

Jarod, a skinny 5-foot-8 businessman, has always angrily envied guys blessed with height, muscle, and cock. When an opportunity for an audience with a djin arises, he can’t help thinking this is his chance to even the score.

Jarod tapped the cream-colored card-stock invitation against his other hand and looked around the ornate private tea room, pushing down his impatience. It wasn’t like he really should have expected anything to happen, but he was in a tea room, complete with the round table with a red damask throw tossed over it; the flickering candle in a frosted bulb; the blood-red flock wallpaper; the mysterious arched doorways—the lot. Not a soul in sight, though. The least he could expect was a matronly woman arriving with a pot of oolong and a casket of Splenda packets.

He glanced down at the beveled invite again. In hand-inked block letters were three lines of text: his full name (“Junior” and all); then, a half inch below, “An opportunity to meet with the grand djin Pajhandrum and be granted one wish”; finally, this address—an apparently abandoned chai house with a palimpsest of old painted business names on the worn brick exterior—and this date. He would have ignored the card altogether, but he’d found it included in a bequest from a top-drawer client of his prestige limousine dealership. The client had died after completing 50 orders with him, and the client’s will, supposedly in gratitude for a decade of reliably excellent service, had generously stipulated a job lot that had turned out to contain several Babylonian coins in excellent condition, deeds to a few small plots of land, three rare Victorian first-editions, and this card. Jarod had had to come, if only out of courtesy to his departed business acquaintance, but his gut had told him that there was more to this set-up than a mere prank.

With a huff, he dropped down in one of the two sturdy oak chairs set on either side of the table. Briefly consulting the card again, he set it down and called out, “Hello! Pajandrum!”

A very deep voice responded from nowhere. “Thank you for coming.”

Leaping instantly to his feet, Jarod whirled around to see a man emerging from the nearer doorway who hadn’t been there a moment ago. The figure was substantially larger than him, maybe 6-foot-2 and athletically built, with a thin, dark beard and an arresting stare. Shockingly, he was shirtless, wearing only a demure beaded necklace, baggy satin pants, and lavender slippers. He was hard but lithe, his movements marking him as graceful and very limber with a strong core, like he might at any moment fall into a series of handsprings or a well-practiced routine on the pommel horse—though Jarod had to admit he hadn’t seen many Olympic gymnasts with sky-blue skin and eyes of burning amber.

Still, he was a remarkable specimen, blue skin or not, and Jarod felt a familiar resentment rising in him at someone so clearly blessed with height, muscle, and, he was willing to bet, cock.

Nonetheless, he remained polite and outwardly impassive. “Thank you for inviting me,” Jarod replied after a moment.

Instead of approaching him directly, the djin had elected to move around him in a slow, moderately wide circle, as though seeking to examine his subject from all sides. “That was your late colleague,” the djin corrected him. “But I am happy to abide by the terms of his agreement.”

Jarod watched him moving around him, determined to keep his feet firmly planted and not turn with him like he was someone else’s fulcrum. “Namely,” he said with an edge of skepticism, “one wish.”

“Namely, one wish,” Pajhandrum agreed imperturbably.

As the djin passed behind him, Jarod asked, “Why?”

“Why?” repeated the djin, momentarily an unseen voice again. His tone was teasing. “Is that what you wish to know?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Jarod chided back, without heat. The djin chuckled. As he emerged into sight on his other side, Jarod added, “I was just asking.”

The djin seemed to consider his words. He was still prowling his circular path around Jarod, as though he were describing the period of a pendulum or the sweep of a large clock. “Let us say,” the djin said slowly, “that the increasing animistic transformative energy of the universe in a finite system requires occasional release. And this,” he added, gesturing to Jarod, “is one of the means by which this release occurs.”

“Hmph,” Jarod said. That sounded… almost plausible? He liked there to be rules and consequence, even in fantasy.

“And you?” Pajhandrum prompted, about to pass out of sight behind him again. “If knowledge is not what you seek, what, then, is your wish?”

Jarod might have said any number of things. He might have wished for knowledge in truth, though the command of information wasn’t his province, and the patience required for deep understanding and insight was not his most pronounced quality. He could have chosen money, but Jarod only valued the wealth he had earned himself. There were a number of possibilities, but they did not matter, because none of them occurred to him in that moment.

What he blurted out, like a cry from the soul, was a single word: “Bigger.”

The djin hummed from behind him. After a moment, he answered, “That is a word, not a wish.”

“I wish to be bigger.”

The djin hmmed again. “‘Bigger’ is a comparative,” he admonished, coming into view again on his other side. “Comparatives have no meaning without that against which the comparison is made.”

Jarod studied the djin’s bland expression. “In other words…?”

“In other words: bigger than what?”

Instinctively, Jarod looked over his interlocutor, a single head-to-toe sweep and back. Height, build, probably cock. He’d do. “Bigger than you,” he said decisively.

The djin seemed amused. He stopped his circling abruptly. Now that Jarod was conditioned to the djin’s rotary stalking, the sudden stillness was slightly jarring. “Are you sure?” the strange being asked, very seriously.

Jarod flicked his eyes again over the blue muscular form in front of him for confirmation, then nodded. The question seemed to be a request for him to formalize his request, so he said, “My wish is to be bigger than you, grand djin Pajhandrum.”

Those amber-yellow eyes locked with his. The djin did not intone any spells. In fact he did not speak at all. Instead, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers, once, the sound like a loud and ominous crack in the silent room.

The candle flickered. The energy in the room seemed to change, becoming unnervingly charged. In the same moment, a delightful and not-un-sexual rush of effervescent sensation washed powerfully over Jarod, seeming to come from some impossible place deep within him. His flesh and bones flooded with sizzling heat and something that felt like potential—like the difference between “might” and “is.”

Astonished, Jarod looked down at himself, his lips parting in wonder. He was growing!

Raking his gaze over the djin for what to expect, he quickly realized clothing was going to be a problem. Starting with shoes—he could feel his feet were growing with the rest of him. Quickly, he kicked off his glossy black shoes and peeled off the navy dress socks one by one, feeling the pleasure of his dogs expanding with every heartbeat. His legs were growing too, mostly in length, though his firm but unimpressive thighs and calves were adding mass and definition as he rose further and further from the carpeted floor.

His torso was lengthening in proportion to his lower limbs, and he felt the strain of his broadening, thickening shoulders against the fabric of his cotton-blend shirt even as it tugged itself free of his waistband. He began unbuttoning rapidly, excited at the whole idea of trying to rid himself of his old, 5-foot-8 attire before he would start ripping out of it. As it was, by the time he got his cuffs undone and was ready to pull the shirt off he had to struggle to get his arms clear, thanks to the swell in his delts, lats, pecs, and biceps. Even his forearms were corded with muscle he’d never expected to see there.

Pants had to be next—he was already showing several inches of hairy shin and ankle below the hem, and his waist was starting to feel tight. He was just starting to fumble with his belt when he noticed something alarming: his cock had escaped down the leg of his boxers and the shape of his hefty bulge was slowly creeping down the leg of his trousers. As he watched it lengthened and plumped beyond reason, unspooling past his knee with no sign of stopping!

Gaping, he looked up at the djin’s baggy pantaloons, but he couldn’t see any sign of a similarly wrist-thick trouser snake there. “What’s going on?” Jarod asked nervously. “Are you really this big?”

The djin smiled impassively and only said, “Bigger.”

Jarod suddenly felt uncomfortable strain around his massive wang and thickening thighs. Hurriedly, he undid his belt and waistband and unzipped his fly, then began laboriously peeling his pants off of himself inch by inch as he continued to grow, noticing as he did so that his pecs were already larger than the djin’s—large enough to be unwieldy. He had to yank the fabric off in the end hurling it aside, and when he straightened he looked down to see a a body that was a foot taller than the djin’s, more massive than any bodybuilder, with massive balls and a half-foot-thick cock that was dragging on the carpet by his enormous feet and starting to pile and coil beneath him.

Most alarmingly, the sight of all this size—height, muscle, cock—excited him like an injection of power into his libido. He was hot, he was huge. His cock, in particular, was huge and getting huger. He was still mostly soft, but not for long. Fuck, how big would he be hard? Whatever the measurement was, it was too much. Right?

He looked hectically over at the djin. Pajhandrum seemed positively twunky, as small compared to him as Jarod was used to feeling around guys he admired and envied. “Okay, seriously, this is plenty,” he said urgently. “You can stop the wish now.”

The djin looked up at him calmly. “Wishes cannot be ‘stopped’,” he said. “They must be fulfilled. Otherwise the energy of the universe—”

“It has been, you idiot!” Jarod interrupted him. Panic was scrabbling at his awareness as his body continued to expand upwards toward the very solid-looking oak beams of the ceiling above him. He glanced around at the arched doorways, but upsettingly he was already far too big to fit through them. “Look at me!” he shouted desperately over the pounding of his own pulse in his ears. “I’m clearly ‘bigger than’ you! It’s been fulfilled!”

Pajhandrum gave him a slow, chilling smile—slow enough he was aware of how much bigger he was getting with each heartbeat before the djin spoke as the changes became proportionately larger and more obvious. Weirdly, his cock was growing faster than any other part of him, though his balls were running a close second. His wang was, incredibly, already as thick as Pajhandrum’s leg and, even more alarmingly, was definitely starting to expand and stiffen, lurching and swelling itself out of its placid pile. Soon it would be completely hard and he could already tell that its final erect size would be much, much bigger than the rest of him.

“Pajhandrum, please, stop the wish. I’m already bigger than you—”

Finally, the djin spoke, just as Jarod’s shoulders started to press against the ceiling beams. Everything seemed to still for just a moment. “What makes you think,” Pajhandrum said, calmly and coldly, “that this is what I actually look like?”

“What?!” Jarod snapped, stunned.

His shoulders started to squeeze the beams out of shape. He couldn’t see his feet, thanks to his massive, two-foot-thick pecs, but his cock was still stiffening relentlessly, painfully unkinking from its coils and dragging its length further and further out in front of him. The pleasure of his crazed arousal was, for the moment, still swamped by his terror, but the demands of his growing, oversensitive, out-of-control cock were already close to overwhelming him.

The djin was smiling gleefully now. The athletic, muscular form Jarod had admired looked tiny compared to him, narrow and short, the size of a skinny child. “Of course, my dear, I took a form that would not shock you,” he said. He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the groaning of the building Jarod was expanding against. “In fact, I conditioned myself to appear… more or less exactly as you expected, did I not?”

Anything else the djin said at this point was lost as Jarod crashed abruptly through the ceiling of the derelict edifice. Luckily. it turned out that this was a one-story building—he hadn’t really registered the particulars of the place when he’d arrived—so he was left sticking head and truck-sized shoulders out of the roof of the structure like the place was made of papier-mâché explicitly for him to burst out of, and not the steel, wood, plaster, and concrete it actually was. People on the street were stopping to stare or lift their phones. He ignored them.

For a moment, nothing else moved and he felt… stable. Was this the end of the wish? Had he reached his full size? Then he sensed his raging, pleasure-flooded cock finally reach its full, iron-hard erection—except there was no room for it. The glans was pressing insistently against the far interior wall, exerting an enormous amount of pressure. Jarod thought it might burst through like he had with the ceiling. But the angles were wrong; instead, it pushed against him, and because he was so top-heavy and the ceiling was already compromised, the final push of his erection toppled him over like a shove from a playground bully, causing him to crash painfully through the ceiling and walls and flatten half the building under his dense, swelling, ever-growing back.

He lay there, panting. His cock flailed past the broken roof like an angry cobra, jerking upwards into the sky before falling back hard just short of his mountainous pecs, trapping his left arm with its weight as it continued to grow behind him. He wanted to struggle to his feet, but even as he thought this he realized his balls had grown so massive that his legs were resting completely across their upper surface, not even close to touching the ground.

And still, he grew. Height! Muscle! Cock!

People were moving compulsively toward him. Many came right up to his enormous, immobile form, stroking his muscles and running tiny hands along his cock and enormous balls. Some were at his cockhead, licking with tiny tongues and even drinking his precum.

“This has to be ‘bigger than’ by now,” he whimpered, his voice shaking the few nearby buildings that were still standing. “It has to be!”

He could see nothing but sky now. For a moment, all was blue and clear, but then a vision seemed to open up directly above him, showing him another place. It looked like the depths of space with infinite stars.

There was a figure there. He recognized it: the djin. He was flexing his enormous muscles, grinning at him through the imagined portal as though Jarod were his long-lost brother in impossible size. Jarod quailed as he realized there were planets in this vision, actual fucking planets the size of the blue being’s meaty fist, revolving slowly around the djin like acolytes.

“Not yet,” he heard the djin’s voice answer him. The blue sky replaced the vision once more, only now it filled with planes and drones watching him as he grew and grew.

“Your wish,” the voice said in his mind, “is still being granted.”

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