Description The old lamp and light bulb Jeremy found at a flea market turn out to have some unexpected side-effects—effects that Jeremy’s lifelong best friend Tom can’t fail to notice.
|Updated||29 Jun 2018|
We were hitting flea markets here and there on a lazy Saturday, just at the end of summer. My pal Tom and I were mostly killing time. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular—maybe a bargain on trash bags or something. Tom just liked rooting around in the piles for hidden treasure. We’d found a few cool pieces over the years: a perfectly good cooler, a great hall table, a pair of shoes that I suspect may have fallen off the back of a truck.
This particular one took up roughly one city block, a former 70s strip-mall that had once housed a night club, an appliance store, a laser-tag place, and some other forgotten retailers. The result was a rabbit warren of partial shells of partial walls and odd leftovers. The folks who ran the flea market itself had started in the former appliance store, but basically had allowed it to grow organically over the years, until it had filled up every odd-shaped nook and cranny in the building. Every expense had been spared, so a few of the corners were badly lit, and many of the spaces were effectively permanent.
It was somewhere deep in the bowels of this place that we spotted a table by itself, next to two closed up semi-permanent structures—just a simple folding table with a multicolored blanket, and a few dozen trinkets of dubious merit. A sign on the table said, “STEPPED AWAY—PLEASE PAY ON THE HONOR SYSTEM”, and next to it sat a cigar box, along with a yellow note pad and a pen.
We’d probably have kept walking if we hadn’t both spotted the lamp.
No, not a genie lamp. Just a perfectly ordinary desk lamp, the kind with the articulating arm. Great for reading, or doing detail work, that sort of thing. I used to have a chrome one I’d picked up at Ikea a million years ago, but it finally shorted out after a storm. This one, however, was a classic, almost a steampunk twin of the old one, the same basic design but built to last. Probably either an original or a copy (the plug was at least relatively modern), with heavy brass fittings, and it appeared to be in good shape. The price marked? $10. A bargain if it worked.
“I dunno, what do you really need it for?” Tom asked.
“Says the guy with two antique water pump handles sitting in the shed.”
“Fair point,” Tom chuckled. “It is pretty, or will be once you polish it up. So get it, if you want.”
“I just wish I could test it out. It would be a shame if it didn’t actually work.”
“Also a fair point. There must be an outlet somewhere.”
“Alas, there is no lightbulb.”
And that was that. We continued on our wanderings, until we spotted a lady selling various household odds and ends. She had a bunch of hydroponic gardening junk in a box, which she explained at length had been confiscated from her son’s very brief foray into growing pot. But amongst the gear was a light bulb, and a quick shake told me it wasn’t broken. A shiny quarter later and I was hurrying back to the table where we’d spotted the lamp.
Still there! Though the table owner was not.
“I want to test this, but I don’t want anyone to think we stole it,” I said.
“Just leave a note and a ten-spot in the cigar box.” That seemed fair enough, so I did that and we split up and resumed the search for an outlet.
A few corners later, I found one that worked, and screwed in the bulb and plugged in the lamp, aiming the light at the wall.
Then I flipped the switch on the base, which made a satisfying noise before the lamp snapped to life, bathing the wall in a warm glow. Yes! I switched it off, unplugged the lamp, removed the light, and set off in search of Tom. Eventually I found him, distracted either by the treasure trove of old art supplies or by the shy young man selling them. I let him have his fun playing with a calligraphy set while I considered my find. It needed a good cleaning, and just a bit of lube so the arm moved a bit smoother, but really it was in excellent shape.
“Five bucks for the set,” Tom reported, with a big smile. “These nibs are the same ones I use for my old pens, and those little bastards are about ten bucks a pop now, and getting scarce.”
And both very satisfied with our haul, we returned home.
Tom and I were pretty average guys in our early 40s. Tom’s always been short and a little on the skinny side, and I’m suffering from a desk job that had added a few inches over the last year or two. His mousy brown hair is thinning (well, up top at least), my dark hair seems likely to stay put until it suddenly goes distinguished and grey like my dad and uncles. Neither of us was very athletic anymore, both with demanding jobs.
We’re both gay, but not really each other’s type, if you know what I mean. We’ve known each other for ages, but early on settled into a comfortable friendship rather than jumping in the sack. We even lived together for a while after college, but never did the deed—something which our friends endlessly teased us about. But we were pretty compatible, so when the recession hit and he lost his job, he ended up moving into the mother-in-law apartment attached to my house, and just kind of stayed. So there we were, a pair of confirmed old bachelors, sharing most meals and TV nights together, but definitely not a couple.
So when we got home and went to our respective doors, we planned to meet up in a few hours for dinner and a beer. He wanted a nap, and I wanted to tinker with the lamp a bit.
I never really use the desk in my bedroom as a desk anymore—not since we got the new laptops—and I’d tossed a few potted plants and photos up there to liven things up. I thought the lamp would look nice there, and it occurred to me that with fall approaching, having a UV bulb in the lamp would probably help boost the plants over the winter.
I took a harsh look at my purchase, and found that I was right about the lamp. It was a little sticky in the articulation, but that wouldn’t take much to correct. I took most of the arm apart, and blew out the dust with canned air. Most of the lamp’s minor issues were quickly solved with a damp cloth, some polish, a little WD-40, and a bit of elbow grease, and I soon had the old girl practically glowing. It fit perfectly in the corner of the desk, and I was able to move the articulated hinged arm to angle the lamp over the plants. I was pretty sure they’d be glad of the soft, warm, UV light.
Hmm. Still at least two hours before Tom was due over, and I was just doing pasta anyway. I set my mobile’s alarm for an hour, and laid down on the bed for a few moments. I didn’t even bother with the sheets or blanket because it was a little warm in the house that afternoon.
The insidious beeping of my phone alarm drew me back to reality, but it was slow going. I felt so sluggish. And it was so very warm and comfortable on the bed….
Huh, it was actually really warm. I slowly blinked awake and sat up.
Turned out the arm had shifted—either I over-lubed it or hadn’t tightened it enough, and the lamp I’d arched so carefully at the plants on the desk was now bathing most of my body in a soft, UV glow. It didn’t seem as bright as even a 40-watt bulb, but it was that UV bulb stuff, so it was probably pretty hearty light. I hope I didn’t get a sunburn or anything. My skin felt a little warm to the touch.
Shaking the cobwebs out of my brain, I repointed the light, then switched it off. I’d want to put it on a timer, and I was pretty sure I had one in the spare room from the Christmas lights. But first, dinner. That meant washing up and starting the sauce.
Later that night, over wine and pasta, we compared notes. Tom had spent the afternoon cleaning his pens, eventually.
“It was like those old adventure games where you have to find a pot for the old lady, but to get the pot you need to get medicine for the old man who makes pots, and to get the medicine, you have to go find a rare herb…”
“Please, all you did was soak the nibs.” Maybe it was the wine, but that triggered a goofy moment between us as we tried—and failed—to avoid making any sort of innuendo about soaking one’s nibs.
Once the dishes were done, he wanted to see the lamp, and pronounced my restoration a success.
“Bet the plants love all that tasty UV energy,” he said. “It looks great on that old desk, too.” He nonchalantly bent over to follow the cord to the wall, murmuring something about how he should have checked the cord for shorts, but that it looked okay.
“Hmm? Yeah, it looks fine to me.”
I confess, I was somewhat distracted by his butt, just for a moment.
We may have been just friends, but he’s always had a decent enough ass—firm, and a little meatier than you’d expect from a skinny guy. And to my surprise, I realized I was half-chubbed, just from that glance. Which I suppose was only a problem because I was wearing a pair of thin lounge pants, and my unexpected enthusiasm was unlikely to stay secret once he turned around.
“Ha, ha, very droll,” he said, his back still to me. “What on earth is this mess? For goodness sake, Jeremy, you really need to straighten out this mess of cords and cables….”
“Whatever, I’m going to hit the loo while you’re making sense of my mess.”
“I have been doing that for a very long time, smart-ass. Let me run next door, I think I have an outlet extender thingie. And you wanted a timer, too, right?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I shouted through the bathroom door.
“Back in 15 minutes or so,” he said, and left. I was glad he was gone, at least for the moment.
To my chagrin, I’d pulled down my pants and hauled out my dick, but pissing was the last thing on my mind. I wasn’t just half-chubbed, I was going for full-mast, just thinking about Tom’s ass. Was it bigger or firmer or something? Had he been working out? If so, how the hell had I not noticed that? Why was I so damned horny all of a sudden?
Nothing for it but to rub one out quickly while he was gone.
By the time Tom got back, nearly 25 minutes had passed, and the bathroom fan was running. I’d had one hell of an orgasm, like I hadn’t cum in a couple of weeks. I hadn’t been able to tear myself away to fetch lube from the nightstand, so I’d just gone for it, and my dick still felt a bit sensitive. Thankfully the moment had passed and I’d just washed up when he came in.
“Couldn’t find the box anywhere, but at least this little power strip will set my mind at ease. These old outlets need all the help they can get, you know. Lucky you didn’t burn the place down with all that jury-rigged stuff.”
“You better be. You know we share a wall, if you burn your house down, mine goes with it!”
“Thanks, hon. Your altruism never fails to astound.”
“Uh huh. There, much better.” He turned the light on and aimed it back at the plants. “Nice.”
He was standing there like a superhero. Hands on hips, admiring his handiwork. I, meanwhile, was admiring something else. Thank goodness I’d switched to the heavier sweatpants.
Tom spun around and—blessedly oblivious to my rapt attention—left the room. I followed, and we spent the next few hours watching TV together before he popped back to his place.
I don’t think the front door was all the way shut before I darted back to my room and dove for the nightstand.
When I woke the next morning, it was once again unseasonably warm. I’d kicked off the sheets at some point, but apparently I’d also gone to sleep commando. And the stupid lamp had shifted again, pointing right at the bed. No wonder I was so warm. And I thought Tom had put in a timer!
Nope, he’d just brought it over, and there it sat on the desk. The light had been on all night. Ah well, easily remedied, I thought. I swung the arm back around and tightened the knob so it would stay, while yawning. I plugged in the timer and set it to run during normal daylight hours.
I absently scratched my belly as I stood up and ambled to the bathroom…huh. Something felt a little off.
It wasn’t until I turned on the bathroom light that I realized what it was: me.
The reflection that greeted me had lost a bunch of the spare tire, and looked like he’d started an exercise program—several months ago. There was some definition in all the right places, and my usual pale pallor looked quite a bit healthier.
Wait—I had started walking every day, and doing some basic calisthenics and such every morning. Well, most mornings. But I just started last week. Seemed like it was working. I looked pretty good.
Um. And apparently my dick agreed. Guess there were perks to being a bit healthier. I knocked out two in the shower. I couldn’t remember the last time I had masturbated four times in twelve hours… if ever. Whew!
It was Sunday, and I had a glorious day of nothing planned. So once I was clean, I threw on some sweatpants and grabbed a ratty old baggy t-shirt—or at least it had been baggy. Again, I ignored the questions my mind was tossing up. At the time I chalked it up to hunger, but I sometimes wonder how things would have gone if I had stopped and really thought about what was obviously happening. I felt full of energy and I was hungry. For that matter, I hadn’t exactly gone easy on the pasta last night. But whatever. Soon three eggs and a few slices of bacon and toast were prepped and launched, followed by a banana, two glasses of milk, and a glass of juice.
It occurred to me that I really needed to deal with some yard work before fall, and I was feeling energetic, so I set to it. Three hours later, and I was wiped out. But the hedges were trimmed, the dead plants were uprooted, and the patio furniture was cleaned and wrapped and stacked up for the winter. I was sweaty and tired, and after swigging a glass of water, I finally stripped to my undies, lay across the bed, and was out like a light.
Except the light was still turned on. And as I snored away, the arm slowly lowered and swung to the left, bathing me in soft, warm light.
I woke five hours later, to Tom’s gasp of surprise.
“Holy shitstickers, Jer!”
I woke with a start, and sat bolt upright. The only lights were the desk lamp and the hallway fixtures, which framed my best friend and his shocked expression.
“What? What’s the matter?” I was awake. Just needed a moment for the fuzzy brain to settle. “Why are you here?”
“I let myself in because you didn’t answer your phone. Or come to the door when I banged on it for like ten minutes. I got worried and grabbed the spare key.”
“Nothing to worry about, I was just taking a nap.”
“Buck naked, apparently. But dude, how hard have you been hitting that gym?”
“Have you looked at yourself lately?”
I was scratching my hair and glanced sideways… to spy a very meaty arm with a well-defined bicep, flexed right by my head. Surprised, I glanced down.
It was right around that moment that I realized that yes, I was buck naked, though the sheets had managed to drape over my waist and upper thigh. I was also inexplicably muscled up. If I looked like I was a few weeks into a good gym program this morning, it was nothing compared to the full-time fitness model I saw where my flabby body was just a day ago.
“I know, right? I mean you look amazing. Are you on some kind of drug or anything?”
“Of course not!” I barked. I ran my finger along my arm’s definition in disbelief. I traced the lines of my beefy pecs and found some cobbles below. I couldn’t help myself. I had to see it in the mirror. I started untangling the sheets wrapped around my midsection. Though I was slightly distracted by the feeling of muscles working under the skin…
“Right. Dude, you don’t get that buff that fast without help. So what… you… um…”
He just sort of trailed off in mid rant. Why? Because I had gotten frustrated and yanked and the twisted up sheet came right off the bed. Which left absolutely nothing to poor Tom’s imagination.
“Fucking hell where were you hiding that?”
Um, yeah. Hanging between my legs—well, not exactly hanging, by that point, as it had woken up and liked the attention—was a huge, fat, pulsing dick rapidly becoming erect.
I had been dead average, a little over 6 inches hard, since I was about 15. I had thirty years’ experience with that normality. What I had now was probably closer to nine inches, and didn’t seem to be fully erect yet.
But it was well on its way.
“God dammit Jeremy. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I want in.”
“Tom, I swear, I have no clue what’s going on with me either. You know I would share…” I tore my gaze away from my own cock, reluctantly, and looked into tom’s green eyes.
I was hoping to see sympathy or acceptance from my friend of twenty-some years. Instead, I saw undisguised lust. No, not lust. Need.
“I may hold you to that,” he said softly.
“Um,” I added. We can’t do this, I thought. What if we screw up our friendship? My mind was racing, but that wasn’t the organs currently in charge.
By that point he was unbuttoning his shirt and pants like they were coated in acid. It was a little late to ponder the direction of our friendship at that point, not with his tight, bare body—the surprisingly graceful, lithe body with the firm butt, the body that I had thought about incessantly over the last 24 hours as I whacked off—pressed against me. My erection was fiery and huge between us.
Our mouths found and devoured each other, tongues entwined and seeking, hands roaming every inch of each other. I lay back and he leaned onto me, our cocks nestling together. His 7-inch dick felt kind of small against my towering rod. I closed my eyes in pleasure.
I reached for his dick and he reached for mine… but our hands were drawn inexorably, to my unbelievable penis. My hand was around the base, and his just above… my butt cheeks clenched and I thrust my hips forward as our hands moved in unison up and down the length of my…
Wait, both hands? God, how big was I now? My monster cock was dripping pre-cum and I could feel myself being expertly brought to the brink. My world narrowed, considerably, and all questions and caution were forgotten.
I had to have his ass. He seemed eager to try, though neither of us said a word. In the back of my mind, I worried that I was too big to fit, or soon would be. Now or never. Seize the day. I was having sex with my best friend, something I had never seriously considered in all the years we had known each other.
Again, in hindsight, things become obvious. The way Tom was always willing to work on my shoulders when I was tense. The way his gaze lingered on the beefy football coach that lived a few doors down. The oversized dildo delivered to my door, that was allegedly a joke. It had to be.
Tom took whatever I had to offer, and it was amazing. I flipped him over and began gently pushing, until I was fully in him. Then starting slowly but building momentum, we rocked back and forth in waves of cascading pleasure. Not knowing my strength anymore, I tried to be extra careful, but before long we were flat out fucking with abandon.
Some time later—three more times later, as it happened, at least for me—we both drifted off to sleep.
We both called in sick the next morning. There were bigger things to worry about.
I hadn’t grown more overnight, apparently, though we had no exact measurements before that morning. My dick was an incredible 11.5 inches long, hard, and I had put on another 20 pounds or more of raw muscle in all the right places.
Looking back, I still hadn’t made the connection.
“So,” I replied.
The haze of morning lifted like it was lit by an Oscar winner, and I woke up staring into my best friend’s eyes. We were still in sync, each reaching to caress the other’s face and leaning in for a kiss.
“Considering we had about twenty years of foreplay, I had pretty much given up on anything more,” Tom said. “Did you know?”
I smiled. “Not consciously. I guess I at first I thought ‘maybe’, but we settled pretty quickly into a groove as friends. Couldn’t risk it.”
“Same. Well, until you got that Captain America drug last week,” he said, sitting up. “Then all those years of leaving after dinner seemed like so much wasted time. I don’t think I have ever wanted anyone, anything, like that. You know I had a thing for muscles…”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have them. I figured I didn’t stand a chance,” I replied, sitting up and stretching. God, it felt good, like every muscle and ligament was reinvigorated.
“Do that again. That stretch… that was awesome.”
“Hold on, tiger, I gotta pee first, before you get any ideas, and I don’t want to throw off my aim. I am still not used to this thing.” I had barely finished when my dick started to chub up again.
“Me next,” Tom said.
“This?” I said, pointing downward with a grin, “or the bathroom?” Rinsing my hands, I glanced at the mirror. He was right, from the neck down I was barely the same person as I was last week. I could headline a fitness magazine.
“Both. And then we should probably rehydrate. It’s hot as hell in here and—what the fuck?”
Startled, I ran out of the bathroom, to find Tom standing, naked and mouth gaping. He had good reason. Tom had the same mousy brown hair, but even through the bed head it was clearly not as thin in the back and top as it had been yesterday. And while he was still shorter than me by a fair amount, his skinny body looked lean and toned, with firm gluteus and sturdy calves.
“Wow,” I said.
“What the hell is going on?” He spun around, and the front looked just as good. Firm pecs, his Adonis belt cradling abs that belonged on 20-something CW star.
“Looks good to me,” I said, my voice a sexy growl.
“Not now, Jer. Seriously, pee first, then talk.”
“Right. I’ll start some coffee.”
He strode into the kitchen about ten minutes later, just as the coffeepot finished up. He always did have uncanny timing. A pair of my sweats covered his legs, but he didn’t bother with a shirt. What’s that line about it being sexier to show some and hint at the rest? That’s real. And it really worked. That damned Adonis belt of his was pointing south into his waistband, and my dick quickly responded. Annoyed, I adjusted my shorts, but it wasn’t much use. Not only were they too tight for me, the top of my dick was on its way to poking out over the waistband. The clock had just struck 8 a.m.
“Sorry I took so long, but I was still full of, well, you.”
“Heh.” I handed him his coffee.
“Yeah. And then I hopped on the scale. I put on nearly ten pounds overnight, man. And that after a pretty epic piss and dumping half a gallon of your boy batter out of my ass. My boxers are a loss. They don’t fit over my ass now, and I wasn’t putting on scratchy jeans going commando.”
“Looks good on you. Really good.” I remained on the opposite side of the counter from him. My self-control was being severely tested, but my brain was still running things. We sipped the coffee and looked each other over. Tom had that thousand-yard stare, and he was half biting the tip of his thumb as he often did while thinking over some problem or other. One of his many quirks. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and grabbed a pad and pen. Time to think.
Yeah, our brains were in charge. For now, at least. We needed to talk this through because it was clear something weird was going on.
“Not complaining about the results, and you know what I think of your little improvements. And the not so little ones. But it’s pretty obvious that something weird happened to you, and now it has happened to me.”
Look, we are both pretty smart people. It didn’t take too long to run through the list of possible contaminants (medicines, supplements, exercise, diet, etc.) and rule them out. All except one.
“What about the flea market?”
“What, you think I made a wish on a Zoltar machine or something?”
“I was thinking about the lamp.”
“It’s just a desk lamp with a UV bulb in it.”
“Well, sure, but I can’t think of anything else. And it was on overnight. Didn’t you set the timer?”
We looked, of course, but as it happened, the timer clicked off just as we were entering the room.
“Didn’t you have this pointed at the plants?”
“Yeah, but the arm needs some work. And look, the plants are doing great.”
Tom picked up the heavy brass base and moved the arm a few times. He unplugged it, checked the cord for shorts, looked for inscriptions. He grabbed a towel and rubbed it, but no genie appeared. He bent over and plugged it back in. Damn.
“I feel silly. I mean how would that even work? It’s a plant light, it shouldn’t have any kind of effect on people,” Tom said.
“Plants seem fine, too,” I said. “Better water them while I am thinking of it. Hand me the watering thingie, it’s on the floor by the fern.”
He obliged by bending over to get it, and that’s when I lost the battle I’d been fighting for the last hour. My god that ass was damn near perfect. But it was hiding under the pants, and that wouldn’t do.
Tom glanced up and his lips curled. “Fuck, Jer. I know that look.”
Somehow the ten feet between the door and the desk vanished and I had him in my big hands, thumbs running down his sides and finding his ass. For his part, Tom kept opening his mouth to say something, but each time he did, he ended up leaning into me to kiss my neck, and soon he gave up on words entirely. His own hands roamed my back and arms, strong artists fingers tracing every muscle as he moaned into my collarbone.
I damn near threw him onto the bed, and leapt onto it myself, both of us wriggling delightfully against each other as we tore our pants off.
Yeah. Steamy stuff, right? Fun, too. Hell of a workout when you can lift your partner repeatedly on and off your dick, his strong toned legs firmly gripping your torso to pull you closer. Resistance training at its finest. We were at it for hours.
And all the while, unnoticed, the lamp had switched on and bathed us both in its light.
No matter how sexy you felt the previous night, waking up sticky with sweat in drenched sheets is still not the best way to wake up. On the other hand, waking up next to a lover isn’t bad at all. The two might balance each other out, if I am honest.
Waking up an even hotter stud than you went to sleep as, or finding your lover has also become ridiculously hot, however, changes that equation a bit.
Sunlight streamed into the room. I didn’t notice then that the lamp was on, and had been on for ages.
“Morning sexy man,” Tom said, feeling me stir. He rolled over to face me, and I could tell from his expression that something about me had changed. His jaw dropped.
“Son of a bitch, you got even hotter,” he said. “I thought last night was my imagination, or at least my libido. Flex for me, baby.”
“You’re being silly…” But of course, I was noticing the way his muscles bunched and swelled as he scooted up against the headboard. I humored him, and playful turned kiss my bicep—only there was a lot more bicep than I remembered.
“Wow…” And then for the first time he noticed his own drastically improved torso. “Oh shit, look at me!”
“Already on it. Damn, Tom. Whatever is happening with us, it is hard to argue with the results.”
“I am …wait, fuck, my dick is bigger!” His eyes widened as he felt around under the sheets.
“Yup. Betting mine is too. Everything else seems to be. Hold that thought while I pee.”
It took significant concentration to actually pee before I investigated further. My head had barely cleared the door frame, which meant I had gotten taller, and I had gone past “fitness model with addiction to crossfit” and was nearing competitive “aesthetic body builder” turf. Twenty-three pounds heavier than yesterday, most of that in my arms, my pecs, my legs? Probably two inches in height? I dug for the tape measure, because I just had to.
Shit, I was now 9 inches soft. Though that measurement could no longer be double checked for accuracy, because it was rapidly gaining ground as I took stock of the sexy beast in the mirror. Just shy of 13 inches… No, wait, it wasn’t done. Fuck, how was it not done? Three really good throbs brought it to rest at 13.75 inches. My balls felt nearly twice as big as they had been cupped in my hands, maybe, but my hands were probably bigger too. Jesus Christ.
Panic began to set in. What the hell was I becoming? I had lost about thirty pounds of pudge and replaced it with almost sixty pounds of muscle. What would people say? How could I explain this? What if it never stopped? Shit!
Through sheer will and deeeeep breaths—trying to ignore those heaving pecs—I finally calmed down, splashed some water on my face.
From the looks of things, Tom had started tested out his own equipment while I was in the can. Both hands were working his turgid member. His face was already twisted up and squinting, and then he opened his eyes as cleared my throat.
“Fuck!” He said. And his own thick tool began to unload shot after shot of thick cum.
Again, willpower kept us sane while we distracted our minds with needful things. We both showered, though any hopes of doing so together were quickly dashed because we simply couldn’t both have fit in my cramped shower stall. The last of the breakfast supplies were scavenged and coffee was brewed, and the sheets were tossed in the wash.
We compared notes as we tore through everything in my fridge. Tom himself was well into fitness model territory, but he had become incredibly lean and a bit top heavy, like a gymnast or swimmer with particularly taut midsection and broad shoulders. He was also almost four inches taller at 6’2, and his junk was almost twice as thick as it had been—pushing 9.5 inches long but possibly six inches around. You could grate cheese on his abs. He had squeezed his magnificent ass into my largest pair of sweat pants, the only thing I could get into was a pair of baggy trousers I had bought for the Renaissance festival. I had wound up at 6’7” (and a bit) and my biggest tee shirt was hopeless at covering me. Two rows of abs were left exposed while the layer above that was testing the structural integrity and threatening the seams. I could probably have coaxed an orgasm out of tom by flexing out of the shirt. Underwear was a pipe dream.
“Right, we should go out and grab some clothes and food, while we still have the ability to go out in public without being indecent. You grab clothes hole I run the store.” Tom suggested. “That new big and tall place should be open over by the mall. You can explain it as a clothing mishap and grab a few basics for each of us.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I have been thinking, though.”
“What if… what if we don’t stop growing?”
“Better grab a size up for each of us, just in case.” Tom was smiling his crooked grin. God he was sexy! “Seriously? One problem at a time. And whoever gets back first should start looking for other possible leads. I want to know what’s causing this.”
“Before it gets out of control? Shit, Tom, does any part of this make sense to you? It is already out of control!”
In the end I was gone about three hours. The sales clerk—a hefty bear of a man—was eager to please (I’m guessing he was into muscle as well) but our extreme proportions made for a challenge. Not wanting to spend too much was another factor. Eventually I secured a few changes of clothing for each of us, winced at the cost of it all, and headed home.
“Babe? Tom?” I said as I hefted the bags onto my couch.
“In the bedroom,” rumbled a sexy baritone.
“Come try this stuff on,”
“Hope you bought a size or two large,” Tom replied. “Be right in. I may have figured something out.”
“Do tell,” I said, digging out my purchases and separating by size.
“Showing might work better.”
Tom was significantly bigger. He had gained another couple of inches, everywhere, rivaling my size, but still maintaining that swimmer/gymnast vibe. Just a really, really big one who spent too much time in the weight room. He had a sheet tied around his waist.
“I can decisively say it is the lamp.”
Apparently, while loading a cart with food and scandalize get the old ladies in the checkout line, he had an epiphany. He had raced home and grabbed the lamp, focused on himself, and let its rays soak in.
“Maybe twenty minutes before I could tell it was working. And then I had another idea… two, actually. First, what if I aimed it at one spot in particular?”
And with a flourish, he whipped off the sheet, revealing a truly monstrous cock. Soft, it had probably reached his knees. But as the mammoth erection grew, he actually had to lean back a little to counterbalance it. It throbbed its way upward as I gaped at the obscene display. It was inhuman!
“I think I realized I had overdone it when it reached my collarbone,” Tom explained. “Luckily, that’s when you texted me, and I finally got him quiet right before you walked in.”
“Jesus, that is one huge cock,” I said. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Over 19 inches. It’s a little over 13 inches soft, but that is admittedly a guess, because it hasn’t been soft much.” He prowled his way closer as he talked.
My body was responding more quickly than my brain could process. My own beast was forcing its way up, as if seeking its overgrown mate.
“I have sucked myself off twice already,” Tom said.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s amazing, you have to try it,” he said. “With mine, and then with yours. I want to be more scientific when we test the lamp out on yours. I kinda got distracted…”
“Shit.” Yeah, any hope of rational thought was being driven out as my blood rushed south. Fuck, I could smell the sexy spunk in his balls and see the pearly sheen on his glistening helmet. He was bringing it closer, and I was nodding along to the idea of making my dick even bigger because everything he said sounded like a good idea.
“But first, I should tell you about my other idea.” Tom said leaning in to kiss me deeply, while his dick rubbed its way between us. The huge flared head was oozing pre-come like it was going out of style, and he teasingly flexed his ass just as my hand found its way there. Shit, his juices were hitting the underside of my jaw! My own dick surged and spurted in response. it obviously didn’t feel threatened, just aroused.
“See, if the light could be focused on one body part and do this, then maybe we might be able do something,” he said, “with those big old mirrors you have in the spare room.”
I am ashamed to say that I was weak. Ironic because “weak” isn’t a descriptor that anyone would think of, looking at either of us. By the time we broke for dinner, we had spent hours bathed in the light of that lamp, and things had gone well out of hand.
Well, out of both hands, in fact. I mean, when you’re sporting enough cock for three average men, one hand just won’t cut it.
Yeah, he had insisted on “catching me up”. He kinda got off on taking notes, and true to his word, he tried to be scientific about the whole thing. Careful measurement, strict timing with the light, and so on. It only took about an hour to add nearly five inches to my already oversized dick, putting me well into inhuman territory, but we stopped at 18 inches.
Jesus, I would have been thrilled to stay at half that number. Especially as the thrill of growth slowed down and the logistical challenges began to weigh on my mind. But the growth had done a number on him (and me, if I am honest), and the boost to our balls probably factored in as well. Libido enough for the six slightly above average men our combined measurements would have matched.
It honestly didn’t seem to matter that we could barely wrap our lips and hands around each other’s prodigious schlongs, or that there was little hope of anal sex with such oversized tools. Even if Tom teased (I hoped it was a tease) that we might be able to upsize ourselves to be more proportional. But even without that, our stroking and sucking were quite enough to occupy us for the time being.
As way lay there panting, four incredible orgasms later, reality began to set in and I felt the start of panic nibbling at the edges of my thoughts.
Because I really did have half dozen large mirrors sitting in the spare room, and while Tom claimed he was just kidding, something in his eyes suggested I take that idea seriously. So when I got up to grab a drink and pee, I decided to take the bulb out of the lamp. Maybe the magic or whatever wouldn’t work without that. Worth a shot, before we did too much damage. Tom would understand once we both cooled off a little.
Tom was softly snoring and facing away, so I quietly unscrewed the light bulb and took it with me into the loo, shutting the door behind me. While washing my hands, I stuck the light bulb up in the drop ceiling. And then I crawled back into bed. Tom rolled over and sleepily kissed returned to cuddling me.
My mind wouldn’t let go of it. I mean, yeah, our newfound studliness had finally brought us together—something that seemed long overdue, in retrospect. But how would either of us explain our changes? At best, they’d think we had done steroids, but even then, we had each grown four or five inches and put on at least fifty pounds of muscle over the weekend! We would have to leave town for long enough for the muscles to be plausible and hope the height was just… forgotten? It was a crazy idea, but then again, we were drowning in crazy just now.
And that’s before we even considered the hefty matter of our cocks. They were well beyond human norms, and they’d be hard enough to hide soft. That was true six inches ago, but doubly so now.
As if on cue, my cock woke up and began climbing upwards. Was there no end to this? It seemed unstoppable, and as sensual as it was to feel that much cockflesh sliding across my sheets and inching up my torso (I was facing away from Tom), it was also on some level terrifying. Inhuman.
But even my growing and entirely sensible panic couldn’t stop that beast. Incredibly, it had grown a little more, and my best guess was that I was 20 inches. Shit. The scent of it was oddly compelling, too—probably because of pheromones or something, but the thing just smelled great. And the head was nestled in the crevasse of my monstrous pecs, just inches away.
Yeah. I did what you figured I would do, eventually. The straightest guy on the planet would not have been able to resist, and I was far from that.
My dick had kept the general shape I knew, but scaled up and out, so that the familiar helmet I knew from childhood remained, but it was now the size of a microphone. My tongue found its way around and down, and even into the piss slit (so big you could lose a sharpie in it), as my hands found purchase below and slowly stroked. I was rewarded with a spurt of pre come and slathered it up and down, tasting the spoonful that wound up in my mouth. I didn’t dare move too much for fear of waking Tom, but at this rate I wouldn’t last long, and my hands and tongue were kind of doing their own thing by now.
Tom was right, I was pretty good at cocksucking. I got more and more into it, and before long, I had managed to get the whole head in my mouth, while one hand stroked the shaft and the other felt my incredible abs. They were basically a ten pack, so defined they didn’t seem real, and the thin silky skin that covered them felt like its own erogenous zone.
Then I felt Tom’s hand join mine on my shaft, while the other gently pushed my head forward. His own mammoth spike pressed into my back, and his hot breath tickled my ear.
“Told ya,” he said softly, almost a purr. “It almost feels better than someone else giving you a blowjob. Almost.”
Within moments I was thrusting away, my own cock shoved as far into my own face as I could manage. It was like some fire had been lit and awakened some hidden mutant ability to inhale my own cock. Despite my new bulk, I retained quite a bit of my flexibility, apparently. And Tom’s lusty thrusts up and down my back while his hands roamed my massive body, tweaking nipples and grabbing my oversized balls? Yeah, that just compounded the insane level of arousal. I shot what had to be my biggest load yet, and swallowed nearly all of it. A dozen hot spurts shot along my spine, the fruits of Tom’s big fuckstick getting overstimulated.
“Worth it?” he whispered.
“Fuck. That was crazy.”
At that point, I assumed I was lost, doomed to be a slave to my own cock’s demands. It was very nearly true.
“Tom, enough is enough,” I said. “Just leave it for now.”
He had been pouting for half the morning, and it was getting old fast.
We had followed my self suck session with an hour or three of sex. We were on each other’s fat poles like madmen, discovering all the ways two freakishly large men could show mutual appreciation. We even tried anal, to little avail. We were simply too big, and even our larger frames had their limits. But the sucking, licking, and stroking, the rimming and groping, and the hot kissing and cumming were enough for now. Would you trade ass-fucking for the ability o suck yourself off? I am still on the fence, honestly, having had the opportunity to do both. We barely stopped to hydrate, though maybe that wasn’t as vital when you guzzled a quart of cum every time. It was an astounding amount of jizz, to be sure. At this rate I would need to invest in rubber sheets or consider the mattress a write off.
But in the back of my mind, I was still wrestling with what the hell we were going to do. When we finally broke to eat something, our giant pricks finally tapped out but stretching down to our knees, he suggested another session, this time with the mirrors.
“Tom, no. We are already too big!”
“No such thing,” he said stubbornly.
“I am being serious, man. This is impractical. Your fantasies are one thing, but we have real life to figure out!”
“Let them stare, we are fucking hot!”
“We might—might—manage to explain most of this, with a plausible amount of time and staying off the grid until then. But people in the real world don’t add seventy pounds of muscle and half a foot of height in a single weekend, especially not middle-aged men. And that,” I said, shoveling in another fork full of cheesy egg scramble, “is before we even consider our monster junk.”
“We could stay here, work from home, have stuff delivered…”
“No, Tom. My life is not going to be spent in hiding, even if I really like the company. And we have ridiculously huge dicks that we can barely control. We can’t go out like this, we can’t walk down main street with our two foot dicks poking out our shirts collars. We would be arrested and then there would be questions.”
Tom sighed dramatically. “No, I suppose not, even if that would be pretty damned hot. But if we got a little bigger overall, our dicks would be proportional.”
I shot him a withering look. “If you mention those mirrors one more time…”
“Yeah, I know. I got carried away I guess.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “I gotta use the loo, back in a few.”
But I could tell from how he said it that he was still thinking about the damned lamp, so I followed him.
“Predictable,” I said, startling him.
“You took out the bulb?”
“We’re big enough,” I said decisively.
It turned out that I had underestimated Tom’s lust for size.
He tried a regular bulb while I was in the shower, but it didn’t work. I caught him hurriedly unscrewing it when I stepped out.
“Um… for scientific purposes,” he replied, sheepishly.
“No dice. Ten minutes and all I did was burn my finger unscrewing it. I guess it needs that plant light.”
Or maybe not. I had had to duck leaving the bathroom. Maybe the effects took a while to wear off?
“I think maybe we should take the afternoon off from each other, so we can think straight.”
“Thrown to the curb already.”
“No. Just…I need time to think, Tom, and we have been fucking like rabbits for the past few days. At some point during the shower I realized how much of a fog I have been in, and I don’t want that. I do want you, though. But I want self-control right now. Maybe if we hold off on the sex for a few hours we might figure out what to do about all this.”
“You’re probably right,” he said, though his expression looked a bit wounded. “I guess I will leave you to it.”
My head was clearer after the shower, and even more so after he left. It was like a haze of horniness drifted after him. Pheromones? Something else to research.
I spent a few hours digging around online, looking for something, anything, that might explain what had happened to us. That UV light should have given me sunburn, not this muscle-bound body or giant dick. I only wanked myself once, and that was with significantly less urgency. I didn’t even consider blowing myself. Well, not for long. Just a quickie and a cleanup and back to my cup of tea and Internet prowling. And laundry, of course. I flipped the mattress, and put down a plastic drop cloth I had lying around, before putting on the sheets. So I suppose my mind wasn’t completely free of thinking about sex after all.
A text from Tom pinged me around 5:30. “Bringing dinner at 630,” it said. “My turn to cook.”
Around quarter after six, Tom showed up with a huge homemade meal. Kabobs, rice pilaf, roasted veggies, and a sangria. He knew my weaknesses well, and his special sangria was one of them. He made it for a party once and I loved it, so it was a frequent go to when we were squabbling. He claimed his head cleared up too, and now that we didn’t reek of each other’s jizz. And he apologized for having been so obsessive. I accepted his apology and admitted I was possibly overreacting. He clinked his beer bottle against my glass and declared us cool.
Truth to tell, he had always been a little prone to throwing himself fully into things. Pottery, action figures, cookbooks, gardening, woodworking, and so forth had rotated through his headspace. Some obsessions lasted longer than others.
We talked a little about The Situation. We both planned to call in sick and work from home where we could, and then claim a leave of absence for medical reasons. Hopefully that would buy some time. I had some savings, if need be, and Tom had few real expenses. We could manage for a few months, at least. Family and friends were another matter.
Man, I had really eaten my fill as we talked. I sipped the sangria and pushed the few remaining grains of rice around. And then I realized I had stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. What was I saying? Why was I having so much trouble focusing? I hadn’t had that much sangria, and now had a lot more mass to soak it up. As I slowly sank into unconsciousness, I saw the look on Tom’s face and realized the bastard had drugged me.
The warmth was intense. Way more intense than I remembered. Everything tingled warmly, like a massage with scented oil. I groggily came out of my stupor to near blinding light, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. As I blinked and sat up, a huge shadow passed across my fuzzy vision.
Something warm and silky brushed my chin. As I brought my hand up, I already knew what I would find there.
Yup. My dick. Son of a—-
“I’m sorry, Jer, I completely lost it. And it’s kind of too late for apologies now.”
We were on the floor in the spare room. A dozen mirrors had been arranged carefully around the room, and sure enough, there was the lamp.
Tom was huge. He was probably pushing seven feet now, and ridiculously muscular. And his dick was nearly level with his mouth. A line of pre stretched from his lip to the bulbous head.
“What. Have. You. Done.”
“Found the plant light, for a start.”
“You fucking drugged me, you asshole!”
“I know. And I feel conflicted about that, but I couldn’t help myself. It was all I could think of all day, how beautiful you’d be if you reached your full potential. I was really out of it.” Was? He still looked half drunk.
“Fuck your obsession, Tom. This is a serious breach of trust. Now switch off that light before I kick your ass!”
“It won’t matter,” he said. “Just a regular bulb in there now. We got about four hours under the magic light before it burnt out. Well, I mean, four hours together. You had a good two before that while I watched. It was so fucking hot watching you grow….”
Nevertheless, he angled the lamp so it wasn’t hitting all those mirrors. With more normal light, I could see what had become of him…and me.
In my wildest dreams, I would never have imagined Tom as he now was. Perfectly proportioned—he ha maintained that swimmer/gymnast proportion—flawless skin, chestnut hair in a messy mop atop his head. He looked ten years younger, vigorous, a powerful athlete in his prime. Only with a dick the size of two 2-liter soda bottles.
Just the site of him caused my own immense beast to swell just s little larger.
I got to my feet smoothly. My hair brushed the ceiling. Fuck, I knew my ceilings well after painting them last summer, and they were exactly 7’8”. Pecs the size of extra firm bedroom pillows. Tight, rippling waist full of sharply defined muscles, arms that Mr Olympia would envy, a big muscular ass, thighs bigger around than I had been just a week ago. I looked like a superhero, if he were drawn by a size obsessed muscle worshipper. Hell, even my face. Every plane and angle, from brow to cheekbone to jaw, was calculated for intense masculine sex appeal.
If my dick was happy about Tom’ improvements, it was super excited about my own. A final stretch and it was level with my nose. A spurt of pre shot up nearly a foot, and then settled into a drizzle that flowed warmly down the shaft. It kind of tickled. I licked the tip and felt the shudder all the way to my soul.
I looked over at the lamp. I could almost feel a … a presence. No, more of a compulsion.
“See, you get it now. It was like that for me. I can tell by your eyes. I had to push you,” he said racing forward to hug me as best he could, trapping our dicks in a sandwich of incredible muscle. “You would have stopped, you’ve always been strong willed. I couldn’t let that happen. And now you’re perfect.”
He wasn’t wrong—I was a perfect expression of his fantasy. Just as he nearly was of mine, though I had envisioned someone closer to six feet than seven, and a 28-inch dick had never really occurred to me. And it was still my best friend in there.
Ah well. Might as well make the best of it…
The impracticality of a dick that stretches up to your face cannot be understated.
It’s enormously inconvenient, and even when you’re pushing eight feet tall, it looks ridiculous.
But god, it does feel pretty good. And being able to lick your own cock is almost disturbingly addicting.
All of which we would have to come to terms with…later.
Oh, yeah, there was some sex. I was truly upset with Tom, and he refused to be apologetic, but somehow that turned into angry sex, then makeup sex, then just “holy shit how is this even possible to be so hot” sex. The physics of even attempting anal sex with a monstrous dick require more math than I am prepared to think about. Not that there was much thought, more like general inclination riding on the back of overwhelming lust.
Our supersized dicks were super sensitive around the head, and something about the precum we produced seemed to relax our holes (it tasted pretty good too, which was a little surprising), but there are, as it turns out, limits to how much of your internal organs can be shoved out of the way. Even in the throes of our passionate lovemaking, something kept us from actually hurting each other, though I can tell you that even when you’re over seven feet tall, having 20 inches up you is more than enough. Unfortunately the other 8-10 inches will simply never fit. Not without injury, and when you’re built the way either of us were now, that’s an actual concern.
Not that I am complaining, just felt the need to be clear, in case the topic comes up for any of you. If you ever chance, rein in your cock lust before you hit the two-foot mark, and you’ll thank me.
I have never been one to stay mad long, but I was still quite irritated with Tom after we had fucked, slept, ate, fucked more, and finally run out of energy some time later. We ordered a pile of Chinese food and talked while we waited we showered, but getting dressed was not a real option. The largest size I had bought barely fit Tom, and did not fit his junk at all, And I was half a foot larger in both height and, well, length. The counters were too low, the furniture wasn’t going to last long, and the third time you accidentally sit on your own dick, it really has lost its charm. And don’t get me started on how many times we knocked our heads into archways or the new hazard of ceiling fans.
Tom did finally apologize for knocking me out, but blamed it on the lamp.
“It was like it was pushing me, not forcing me. I mean, on some level you just kept getting hotter and then you seemed to be fighting it. And I had that epiphany and I knew you didn’t want to be a freak but you couldn’t see how perfect you were becoming….”
“So you dosed your best friend?”
“Yeah. Look if you were drunk and I knew you shouldn’t drive, I would totally steal your keys, right? I’d do whatever I could to keep you from killing yourself or others in that state, and all I can say now is that I really felt like it was the same sort of thing.”
Actually, that was totally in character.
“But it wasn’t, Tom. God knows how all this has messed up our bodies. Our minds, even.”
At that, he was quiet. Thoughtful.
“Look, I believe you, but only because I felt that odd pull, too, when I woke up like this. Hell even now I am wondering if we couldn’t make some other sort of bulb work.”
“Hey, maybe another colored bulb would work, like s black light or something—”
“For fucks sake Tom, I am serious here.”
“So was I,” Tom said. “Think about it; UV light did this. Maybe that would do something Else?”
Actually, that…kinda had some merit. Maybe we could even return our proportions to something a little less obvious and leave the house…
Oh yeah, the Chinese food. Without even thinking, I got up , grabbed my wallet, and answered the door….
The eagle-eyed reader will note one step I left out of that previous entry. At no point did I mention that I did anything, anything at all, to cover up.
Yup. I answered the door buck naked without even realizing.
This caused the delivery boy to nearly drop the heavy bags in sheer shock, and stagger backwards a step or two.
“Whoa, sorry man, wasn’t thinking clearly!” I tapped the door mostly closed, ran over to the sofa, grabbed the throw, and tied it around my waist as a sort of skirt or kilt. Slightly more decent, I opened the door again and beckoned him in.
The poor boy was still in shock. I say boy, but he was a college kid, one of the owners’ kids, and I was pretty sure I knew him. Peter, I think he went by Pete.
Pete was a good-looking guy. He kept himself in shape and had got the best features from his parents. He stood about 5’10”, with spiked stylish black hair, cute hipster glasses, and a polo shirt that showed off his build nicely. Pretty sure he wrestled and played baseball, by the build—athletic but not too bulky. And cheekbones to die for.
And he looked like a kid next to me.
“Hey,” I said, by way of breaking the ice. “Sorry about that. Laundry malfunction.”
“Um. Yeah,” Pete stammered.
“I paid online,” I said.
“Yeah, sorry, right, need you to sign this. Also we threw in a couple of free appetizers.”
“Aww, thanks”, I said.
As if on cue, my stomach growled. Then two things happened at once: my hastily arranged kilt slid off me, and Tom walked in, having made similar arrangements with a bed sheet.
“Oh my god,” Pete said, “how are there two of you?”
“We could go for three if the bulb hadn’t burnt out,” Tom mumbled half under his breath. Luckily Pete hadn’t heard him. I shot Tom a withering glare anyway.
“Wait,” Pete said, finally looking up at my face, his wide almond eyes squinting in recognition. “Wait, you’re Jeremy Turner, right? I have delivered here before. But you were like, my size…”
Well, the cat was out of the bag. Better to see how it played out with Pete before we tried to deal with the broader world. How to play it off?
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“You’re my last delivery. I got the time. Man, I have been trying to bulk up a bit since last year and no luck. How the heck did you do it? Some kind of crazy steroid? I mean that would explain how you got ripped but not how you got two feet taller!” He was clearly excited by what he saw, if the tent in his cargo pants was any indicator. He was having trouble looking away. Tom, standing more or less behind him, was watching my reaction, and Pete’s.
Suddenly, I realized we had an opportunity, and a quick glance at my friend told me Tom picked up on it too. We might be able to get Pete to help us, just for now. We were effectively trapped here and I wasn’t going to wait for the internet.
But would he be willing?
“You want the truth? Tell you what.” I said. “I will tell you everything, but first, we need a favor or two. We can’t exactly go out like this. Run a few errands for us, and we will let you in on our secret.”
“Sure, anything you need,” he said.
“Don’t worry, it’s easy stuff. We need to exchange some clothes so we can actually go out in public, and we need some groceries. But first, we gotta eat. Do you mind hanging a bit?”
He shook his head and watched us for a few minutes as we began shoveling down dumplings and soup as fast as we could manage, before turning our ravening appetites to the entrees. He finally appeared to notice Tom when Tom got up to pour each of us some tea. That ass was amazing and I bet it could turn anyone’s head. But the appreciative look on the college hunks face, and his lingering gaze, told me enough. Pete was gay, or at least bi.
“So Pete, you are still in school, right?”
“Yeah. Got another year before grad school.”
“Man, that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“What? That’s stupid. You can’t be more than thirty..”
“How old do you think I am?” Tom asked.
“Maybe mid-twenties? About his age I guess.”
“Try 44 and 42,” I replied.
“So,” Pete said, “this thing you took turned you from middle aged to prime beef?”
Tom had finished his food already, so I asked him to make out a list of what we needed. I practically inhaled the beef and broccoli, and then gathered the clothing i had just bought. Since we weren’t going with him, we would need some measurements….
It was several hours later when Peter came back, during which time we had not left the house. We had barely left my bedroom. In fact we didn’t hear the door at first because we were …otherwise engaged.
Oh, you were looking for measurements? Size queens. Well, I suppose it’s only fair.
We hadn’t fully stopped growing, but it had slowed down considerably.
It was pretty surreal. I had stabilized at 7’10”, and something like 420 pounds, though it was nearly impossible to get a proper measurement. Chest 66. Waist 38. Biceps 32. Arms 47 inches long. Thighs 42, calves 30, neck 26. Best guess, size 22 shoe. My shoulders were nearly four feet wide. And my junk required some added care, because it was 25 inches flaccid, though that didn’t last long. 37 inches when hard. My scrotum was the size of a football.
Tom had done a number on himself, too. 6’10½”, 340 pounds, chest 54, waist 31 (seriously toned ten pack), biceps 25, thighs 33, calves 25, neck 22. Shoe size probably 18. But he had been a little more vigorous with his dick exposure. Flaccid, his beast was 27 inches, and it topped 40 inches hard.
Yeah, he could no longer suck himself off, and I told him it served him right. Wasn’t particularly easy for me, but the natural curve in my dick had helped.
We were complete freaks. And yet that nagging feeling of wanting more persisted. It was easier to understand Tom’s temporary insanity, now. The only thing that kept me from destroying that cursed lamp was the hope that somehow, another kind of light bulb might make this reversible. At least partly.
After the astounded Peter headed out with our measurements and credit card (and an impressive boner of his own), we lasted about two seconds before we ran to the bedroom and tried our best to fuck our brains out. But as I mentioned earlier, logistics became an issue. In the end it was a lot of foreplay and licking and handjob that required all four massive hands, with room to spare.
Anyway, we missed the knock, and were in mid thrust for probably the sixth time that afternoon when the doorbell began ringing with gusto. I hastily composed myself and answered the door, still disheveled and sweaty.
Poor Peter was dumbstruck again, but shook his head and cleared the cobwebs.
“I got what I could, but there isn’t much clothing that will fit either of you unless it’s special made. So you have some stuff there. I picked up some food, too, a lot of it, and it’s in the car. And I got some bulbs, too.”
“You’re a godsend, Pete,” I said, hugging him as gently as I could. He blushed deliciously.
“Hey, it’s cool, I get something out of this too, right?”
I made Tom pull on a pair of shorts and unload the car—I was too big to show myself on the street at this point—and soon we were unpacked and faced with a batch of assorted bulbs.
As usual, Tom had a plan, and we had a very willing guinea pig. Peter disrobed slightly awkwardly, leaving his toned but lean body on display, along with what I guessed was a slightly below average stiffy. We figured we would reproduce my initial exposure.
Yeah, it worked. The astounded Asian cutie shot up three inches and put on fifteen pounds of muscle, which looked amazing on his frame. And when he shyly requested a focused session on his dick, we obliged. Before long he was built like a CW superhero, and sporting a ten-inch erection.
“I think that’s more than enough,” he said. “My god, you guys, I can’t believe this.”
“Hopefully you’ll stabilize at that size. I wish we had, before my idiot friend went overboard.”
“You guys are amazing, but I can see why you’d want to rein it in a bit.”
“Ya think?” I glared pointedly at Tom, who shrugged sheepishly.
Our obligation to Peter was fulfilled. Now it was time to test the other theory. What would the other lights do?
I admit, I was getting cold feet. What if it changes? What if we grew more, or another head or something?
Luckily, Peter volunteered to test the black light. “If it shrinks me, you can always beef me back up, but if any growth on you guys might be a problem.”
Tom was thoughtful but finally agreed. Sure enough, it worked. Ten minutes exposure left Peter panting and passed out, and looking like a skinnier version of what he had looked like that afternoon. And the shrinking continued for several minutes after, leaving our poor friend much the worse for wear.
But it had fundamentally worked. The only downside was that it knocked you out pretty good.
Tom surprised me, though, be asking me to treat him first. “This dick is too big to be useful,” he complained. I agreed, and soon he was snoring away as his size bled slowly off his oversized frame and his mammoth cock.
I left them in the bedroom, and grabbed a beer. I wasn’t sure how much I could trust Tom, at least where this was concerned. He seemed contrite, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t try something stupid once I was out. I figured I would wait until the others woke up, and talk through it.
Peter was first to wake. Man, he looked delicious, just toned and taut and slightly beefy where it counted most. He’d gone from a mildly handsome college kid to a stunning hunk. And he was delighted about it. He ran up and hugged me, which felt odd. He looked like a kid next to me, nearly two feet larger than him. Curiously, his hair had grown out a bit, and just added to his sex appeal. My giant dick quickly sprang up between us.
“I feel like I owe you, Jeremy,” he said, hugging me around my huge hyper cock. “but I don’t really know what to do about it. I don’t think that thing will fit anywhere and anyway you seem to be a thing with Tom.”
“Yeah, kinda. Been a long time in the works, but suddenly becoming sex gods kind of put the whole thing in high gear.”
“I figured. Bummer, though. I haven’t been with many guys, but I can’t believe how horny I feel right now. You guys didn’t mention that side effect.”
He smiled sweetly. “Don’t be. I rubbed one out in your bathroom. It was kind of ridiculous. Like a cup of spunk.”
We both laughed.
“The whole thing is ridiculous. But I wonder if you would do me a favor… See, Tom is a little crazy when it comes to this whole size thing. Can you make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid when it’s my turn to go under?”
“You got it, boss.”
Tom woke up twenty minutes later, looking much as he had that first night—a fitness model or Olympic swimmer, six feet tall with a foot-long cock. Man, he was gorgeous. And horny.
He begged me for one last spin on my freakish body, and I obliged. Now that I knew it was reversible, I could stop worrying.
Little did I know that he had other plans for me.
I opened my eyes and immediately knew something was wrong. My thoughts were all jumbled and the lighting seemed odd somehow. It was blindingly bright and I reflexively squinted. My eyes refused to focus, but my hearing was throwing me off anyway. If I could have seen properly I would have closed my eyes anyway so I could concentrate. The sound was odd too; tinny and without the familiar background noise of my little house. I must be on the floor and something heavy was on my chest. How irritating!
“He is awake,” I heard, but while it sort of sounded like Peter, something sounded off.
I turned my head to the side, and just as I did so the brightness went away.
“Whoa there big guy,” another voice said. Seemed like Tom, but again, the angle was weird.
Finally I opened my eyes and spotted Tom.
Only he was tiny. Like, the same size as a coke bottle, one of the fancy old school glass ones. That couldn’t be right could it?
“What happened to you?” He looked delicious, almost as I’d left him, but with his cock jutting just below his beefy pecs. But maybe a foot tall, at best…
“Now, don’t be mad,” he began.
Peter appeared, looking hotter than before somehow, but also tiny. Had the black light malfunctioned?
Then I saw the tiny car behind him, and the small single prop airplane.
“Need you to be calm, buddy. Deep breaths. You’re in a hangar, Jer.”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Peter added.
Christ, how big was I?
“What the hell,” I thundered, my voice loud enough to rattle the place.
“I borrowed my cousin’s truck to get you here, but we probably killed his shocks. You’ve been out for three days, and you finally seemed to stop growing about three hours ago.”
“You’re probably a good 30 feet tall, now, and that dick of yours is bigger than I am,” Tom said. “Try not to move too much just yet. We have you tied down for safety.”
They’d anchored me with a series of heavy canvass tarps, and weighted them down with a forklift and some heavy loaded pallets. I was immobilized by countless tons, but my body was mostly exposed.
“But I saw a bright light…”
“Oh, that was me,” Tom said. “I thought you were perfect before, but now I know better. Peter, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Sorry Jeremy, but he was right. I had to help him… to help you. You’re incredible.”
“Jer, with you safely out, we went online and you wouldn’t believe how many people were willing to help with money. Amazon delivered the rest. Peter’s friend is a vet and got him a ton of drugs. My cousin Joey lent me the hangar and helped me rig this thing up. “
He stepped aside with a dramatic gesture at the table behind him. Now that my eyes had properly adjusted, I saw dozens of mirrors, rigged all over the hangar, and atop an old table was that cursed desk lamp with the plant light.
“Now that you’ve reached a decent size, of course, we need to pay them all back.”
As if on cue, dozens of men entered the space, each of them the size of a Barbie doll to my mammoth proportions. They began to climb all over me, lost in worshipping my massive muscles, scaling my prodigious 7-foot dick. I could feel it all, but seemed to have no control over my body—I could barely move my head—but as before that didn’t stop my penis from reacting. They worked together to drive me insane; I could feel all of it and their tiny bodies were rubbing and squeezing and stroking all over me. One enterprising fellow stuck his arm inside my piss-slit, and as I writhed Tom whispered in my ear.
“When they leave, it’s back to growing you some more. By the time anyone alerts the authorities you’ll be too big for them to do anything about…..”
“No, you can’t do this to me!”
“That’s it, Jer. That’s life now. Just endlessly getting bigger, until you outgrow this hangar, and even then it won’t be enough…”
I woke sweating in a blind panic.
“Morning, sleepy head,” Tom said. “Welcome back to normalcy.”
“Well, with a few improvements,” Peter said.
The new normal, for me, was a pretty big improvement over the schlub who’d bought the grow lamp. I was six feet, six inches, exactly. 280 pounds of toned muscle. 54 inch chest. 35 inch waist with ten pack abs. 21 inch biceps, 33 inch thighs. Size 16 shoe. And a dick that by mutual consent had been reduced to just 15 inches hard. Just enough body fat to look healthy.
Tom and Peter had stayed how I had left them: practically perfect. Tom was more than apologetic about his obsession, though he laughed about my nightmare. Peter had some explaining to do when he went home, but his newfound confidence made life much better for him. He did work very hard at thanking both of us for his improved physique, decided he was cool with being bisexual, and stayed in touch with us when he went back to grad school that fall. He was quite a hit, from what I gather.
And once I was sure that we had all stabilized, I took the lamp to the landfill and threw it as far as I could out into the far reaches of the junk there. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to destroy it. Whatever it was, I just couldn’t do it. Tom stayed in the car so he wouldn’t be tempted to go looking for it.
As for Tom and me? We had some long heartfelt talks, catching on all those years of not saying things, and after six months living together, on a long weekend trip to New York, he proposed to me. I said yes.
I sometimes wonder about that lamp. Was it magic? A curse or a blessing? Mad science? We never did figure out where the lamp came from or why it worked. It gave us these amazing bodies and a newfound lust for life.
But the real magic that lamp held was that it brought us together.