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Guess the Wish
Surf City, Here I Come
|This story is the first in a new series. I know certain parts (the sex) seem rushed, but the story is more about the growth and the progentor's response to it. It's also part of a new Genie series I am writing.
The theme of this series is simple -- a mischevious genie tricks someone into making a wish which he grants, often in a way not anticipated by the wisher. Part of the fun is reading the story (hopefully). The other part of the fun is guessing what the wish was -- since it's never revealed. In some stories, I reveal it at the end. In other stories, like this one, I hint what the wish was but don't say it for sure! Can you guess the wish?
|“But what do you mean 'only one wish?'” asked the pasty-faced twenty-something to the genie. “You said it was going to be my FIRST wish. That means I get more!”
“Oh no, former master,” said the genie, now just a cloud of smoke popping back into the bottle. “One wish is all you get unless you find the lamp again!”
With that, the lamp suddenly levitated and took off out the window at great speed, fading into the distance.
He was fucked now after that wish. Or was he? Everything seemed the same. Seemed normal, even. But a strange little voice in the back of his mind told him he was in trouble. That was confirmed just seconds later as his body temperature and metabolism skyrocketed.
The fever rushing through his body was like something five times worse than the worst flu he'd ever had. Every pore was sweating with and his shirt and pants stuck to him like they were glued on, soaked with sweat. Staggering about his small studio apartment, he peeled off and discarded his shirt, trousers and boxers, but even his nakedness could not alleviate the incredible heat raging within his body.
He drew in a deep breath and tensed his body in pain as the power of his wish began to take control of him. Stumbling across the room, he barely was able to flop down on his old futon before the fever within him began to be accompanied by trembling. Deep within him, his body was fighting a war with eldritch energies more powerful than any virus, bacterium, allergen or other invader it had fought before. It was a losing battle. Within each cell, mitochondria pulsated as DNA unravelled and restructured into fundamentally new patterns – describing a man completely different from who he was just moments before. As sweat continued to pour down his face and into his eyes, the power began to make its changes more physically apparent. He tried to shout as it did so, but could only manage the silent, hoarse whisper of hyperventilation.
Every hair on his body felt electrified, tingling with energy, as they stood straight up. Without warning, they began to withdraw back into the skin from which they came. Watching with horror, he saw the hair on his legs, his arms, his chest and belly, and even his groin sproing up like electrocution and then sink into his skin. He could feel the thinning hair on the top of his head, his eyebrows, even his beard doing the same. As it withdrew, it dug into his flesh like thousands of tiny needles, causing him great discomfort.
Continuing to tremble, he watched his now smooth skin change texture, from the ruddy whitish colour it had always been to a darker broze colour, all over. As this happened, he stared at his hands in horror as they cracked and began to grow. His masculine fingers grew thicker, longer and blunter, the palms cracking and straining as they grew from larger-than-average hands to true “mitts.” It was only the beginning for him. As he breathed ever faster, the changes swept over him with increasing drama and speed.
As he continued to try to scream or shout for help, without avail, his bone structure began to change. Each bone began to lengthen and thicken, growing denser and more solid with each passing moment. Clenching his teeth in agony, he felt his spine extend, as though it was being placed on a medieval torture device. His legs stretched out, filling from the inside with lengthening, cracking bone, his knees cracking and bulging to keep up with his lengthening frame as his feet were pushed over the edge of the futon and his head migrated on a lengthening spine and torso towards the other side. His feet felt like grenades had exploded in each one, as they cracked and grow larger, wider, and thicker – far larger than they had been just a few moments earlier. The cracking noises of his agonised bone structure drove his mind to near madness, his longer, thicker legbones laying out in front of his extended spine and torso.
Feeling a pressure explode from behind his face, he contorted his mouth in pain as his head began the cracking that has plagued his aching frame just moments earlier. He felt his teeth straighten and change configuration as his jaw grew thicker and squarer, his cheekbones violently thrusting upwards and outwards like fast-motion plate tectonics. His thin lips burned as they thickened, adding further expressiveness to his rapidly morphing but painfully-expressing features. He felt his head grow wider on a neck that continued to thicken, opening up more room for air as his hyperventilation continued. Cracking and twisting, his nostrils flared as his nose migrated upwards and downwards at the same time, growing both longer and thicker as the immediate pain in his face subsided to a dull ache.
As he continued laying on his back, his aching legs bending at the knee, he felt his thighs open up to his groin. It felt as though he'd been kicked by a steel-toed boot between his legs as his thighs compressed, pulling together tighter as his shoulders creaked outwards to a wider stance. His ass grew tighter and firmer, lifting him slightly off the bed and giving him a better view of his quivering, heat-soaked genitals. Soon, it was their turn as well.
His scrotum felt like it had been covered with Tabasco sauce, burning and heated, as it stretched downwards, centimetre after centimetre, painfully drawing his balls down their now-taut lifelines with it. With a rumble from deep within his groin, each lifeline loosened and thickened. Suddenly, his balls felt like they were being pressure-filled with water, with the pressure on “too high.” The rumbling within his crotch increased as, with tears of pain rolling down his cheeks, he watched each ball inflate from its former average size. Rumble, rumble – two olives. Rumble – two golf balls. Rumble, push – two low-hanging limes. Finally, the rumbling subsided, leaving him with two low-hanging balls the size of lemons.
His penis seemed impatient for its turn, and he didn't have long to wait. He suddenly felt the stiffest erection of his life push forward from his groin as he quickly became hard. But there was something very different about this erection! He rolled his eyes in disbelief as the organ throbbed and pushed outwards, changing its orientation from its normal downwards slope to an upwards trajectory that slapped against his stomach. With each throb of his heartbeat, it grew longer and longer, thicker and thicker. New veins burrowed underneath the surface like impatient threads, bringing new lifeblood to the monster his cock was becoming. He watched as the head glistened with moisture, becoming slick rather than the rough texture he'd been accompanied to. Nerve endings long-severed after his infant circumcision grew, reborn, as the thicking, blunting head of his cock, standing proud at eight inches, was covered by the restored foreskin attached to his reborn frenulum. Then, without warning, the erection sensation subsided and his cock flopped down – flaccid but not losing size. The pressure of the erection surged deep into his crotch, as his seminal vesicles became massive capacity man-milk makers and his prostate tingled with new nerve endings.
His nightmare, however, was not yet over. Heaving with each breath, he felt his final skeletal changes taking place as his rib cage finished its growth, the organs within it growing larger to accommodate his new larger frame. With each breath, his nipples were becoming more tender, his skin becoming cooler but burning with fire in the flesh beneath.
He felt like he was getting a deep tissue massage, except one better than any mortal had ever felt before. A stroke, and he watched as his stomach muscles became visible. Another rub, and they were definitely visible! Push. He had a six pack. He bit his lip as he felt the muscle within his body adhere to the inexorable magic of his wish. A tingling sensation moved down his legs as he watched his smooth, big-footed olive legs swell with bulging muscle, the calfs groaning as the magic moved up to his thighs.
His thighs tingled as did his ass, and he watched stunned as they expanded, pup-pup-pup, from thin runners legs to swimmer's legs and finally weightlifter's legs, his ass rounding hard as marble as the muscle within each glute grew large and firm as well. As the tingle continued up his stomach, the six pack he had shuddered and deepened into an eight pack, the tissue beneath his nipples starting to shudder as pectorals quickly pressed the skin into two hard, ridged shelves of muscles.
He could feel, rather than see, the magic working its way up his back, transforming his broad, thick-boned shoulders into shelves to showcase thick, powerful lats, his shoulder muscles bulging outwards as the maging travelled down each arm. His biceps, triceps, and forearms ballooned with muscle, his biceps heaving from the size of baseballs to softballs and finally, small Nerf footballs.
Without warning, the energy suddenly surged through his whole body, from head to toe. Every muscle in his body was fed by it and swelled, as skin pulled tighter against still-growing muscle. He threw his head back and groaned, his voice cracking and returning at a rumbling bass, for the first time expressing itself during this change. Looking downward, the slabs of his pects were now leading down the valley between them to his massive eight-pack, hairless cock and the muscular legs beyond them.
His voice returned, he moaned out as a final sensation kicked in. Starting at his feet, pins and needles pierced his skin as he watched thick black hair grow in on his toes and feet, then migrating slowly up his calves, making a sound not unlike rustling leaves as a considerable covering of black hair grew up his calves and thighs. As the surge of hair growth hit his groin, he bit his lip and grunted primally as a forest of black hair exploded within his pubic area and ass, a thick covering also dusting his nutsack as it moved upwards.
Bursting out of his belly button and creating a trail down to his dick, the fur covered his pecs and moved laterally to cover his forearms. He was doubtlessly a hairy-chested “Mediterranean background” guy now. Lifting his arms up, he felt another explosion in his underarms as a thick black patch of fur quickly shuddered into being under his muscular arms.
He shook and moaned again as it hit his face, feeling the prickle of thousands of new beard hairs growing in – he would need to shave twice a day from now on to stay “clean shaven.” Eyebrows, thicker darker and heavier than before, grew over his dark brown eyes as finally his black hair and sideburns rustled into being. With a final shudder, his body convulsed and he felt the energy and fever leave it as he panted on the futon. Around him, however, the room changed. Walls reformed around him, creating unfamiliar patterns. Soon, all the room and décor was changed.
Exhausted with his body raging and sore from its massive transformation, he pulled himself up and to the side of the bed, sobbing. What had happened to him? He stared down at the massive hairy pectoral muscles and obscenely large cock dangling between his legs in wonderment. All this because of a wish? All this. . . for the rest of his life, if he never found that genie again. He hadn't specified a time period. He could look like this forever!
With a start, he asked himself “well, what DO I look like?”
Looking around the room, he noticed it was totally different, done up in a “tropical” theme. The open window let in the breeze and a pounding, roaring noise. SURF! He was on the beach, in an apartment on the beach? But where?
Rushing over to a desk, he found a wallet.
“Antonio Boccione, aged 24,” he read out loud, jumping at the unfamiliar sound of his now bass voice. “Holy fuck, I'm five years younger than I was.”
Opening up the wallet, he went through the cards. There was a credit card, a gym membership, a beach and yacht club membership, and a few dollars of American currency. He must be in America then. . . glancing down, he saw the phone book next to the phone.
“Santa Barbara Area Directory,” he read, still dazed. “I'm in California. I'm in coastal California.”
Staggering to the bathroom, he flipped on the light and yelped at a strange man who yelped back and mimicked his movements. The bathroom had a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and the “stranger” was him!
“Ohhhhh my God,” he said, running fingers over his chiseled, masculine features. He was magnificent. A close-cropped cut of thick black hair led down to sideburns that framed a face that would easily make the A&F catalogue or any other model's forum. Tall and well-built, thick and impressive – but not overdone – pectoral and stomach muscles bulged erotically under fur covered bronze-coloured skin, leading down to an uncut cock that had to be eight inches flaccid, an impressive sight even on his 6'6” frame. Turning to the side to survey his silhouette better, he clenched a hard-as-marble, muscular ass that could probably crack walnuts and that definitely would turn any gay man into a drooling zombie of lust.
“Fuck, I'm a gay beat-off magazine wet dream,” he mused. His reverie was quickly interrupted by pounding on his door.
“Antonio, dude, come on, we've gotta go!” came a voice from the other side.
Scrambling around the room, he found a set of boxer briefs in a drawer and slid them on, along with a tight tee shirt that left no element of his definition to the imagination.
“Who is it?” he asked through the door.
“Dude, are you whacked?” asked the man on the other side. “It's Cody and we've got some surfing practice to do. Now open up.”
Opening up the door, he watched a handsome, young blond man walk into the room.
“What's gotten into you, dude?” asked the blond man. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”
Scrambing for words, he responded, “ummmm, I guess I'm just not myself lately.”
“Uh huh,” said Cody, surveying him carefully. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, I'm fine,” he responded.
“OK, look, you need to get out of the underoos and into some surf gear, grab your board and lets go. The competition is tomorrow morning and last minute practice never hurt anyone,” said Cody in his relaxed beach-bum accent.
Cody turned around to rummage through a drawer for some clothing when a wave of dizziness hit Antonio. Suddenly, things seemed a bit clearer – he had knowledge of this new life! He was Antonio, 24-year-old surf champion and the modelling agency wanted to feature him – if he won the world competition tomorrow. They were going to feature him in swimwear and surf gear ads, as well as perhaps let him do a couple pec shots for a gay rag or two. It was his big break!
The remainder of the afternoon, he surfed with his friend Cody. It was easy, like second knowledge.
The next morning came quickly and he was ready. Waking up early, he headed down to the competition grounds with his surfboard.
When his turn was called, it was like a dream – his body was on autopilot. His strong, muscular frame controlled even the toughest current, his big feet kept him balanced, and his stunningly hot looks had most of the onlookers – men and women alike – drooling with lust. He had it made, or so he thought.
The very last competitor was a man named Erik Thomassen, a Dutch guy who was the returning champion and was always judged highly. “Antonio,” despite being a novice in his new life, knew that Erik was excellent. He was just as capable and a stunning man as well. 6'5” and nicely tanned, his blond hair was a mop above a strong face that always seemed to be covered in day-old blonde stubble. His hairless physique would have made Mr. Universe jealous and he executed his moves with perfection. It was unsurprising, therefore, when he performed well – what confounded the judges, however, was determining who did better – he or Antonio.
Retiring to the showers, Antonio peeled off his swimsuit, letting his considerable meat flop down. He still wasn't used to the sheer pull of its weight on his groin, it was like a weight all its own versus the average cock he'd had just a day earlier. Turning on the shower, he soon lost his sore but well-exercised muscles in the steaming hot water.
Suddenly a blond-furred, muscular arm placed a large paw on his shoulder. Spinning around, he was surprised to see Erik's beautiful blond eyes looking into his, at eye level.
“That was a remarkable job you did today,” said Erik.
Stumbling for words at the radiant beauty of this athletic god, Antonio finally blurted out “and you too. You were incredible.”
“Were?” asked Erik with a lopsided grin. “I AM incredible. So were you. They will have a hard time deciding who was #1, won't they?”
“Well, yes, I think they will,” said Antonio, his eyes locking with Erik's smouldering blue orbs. “But whichever choice they make, I will live with.”
“You know,” said Erik, “I didn't even come here for this tournament.”
“Really?” asked Antonio. “Why did you come then?”
As if to answer, he felt something bump his hand. It was Erik's rigid cock – an eleven-inch-long monster bobbing proudly. Erik's eyes glimmered with mischevious light.
“I came here. . . “ he whispered, moving closer, “to see you again.”
Antonio's own hardon came quickly, foreskin rolling off the head to its own generous eleven inches, rigid, veiny and dripping with precum.
“You see,” Erik said in a growl, “last year we didn't start what we finished. I'm not going to let that happen again. You're the only man who has never been intimidated by me. You're my only equal. And that fucking turns me on.”
With that, they kissed. First a gentle, caressing kiss, but as blonde stubble ground against black stubble and hard dicks touched, Antonio felt a wave of horniness like none he'd ever known before sweep through his being. This body was not only hot looking, it was sexually supercharged!
With a groan, Erik's tongue licked around Antonio's mouth and lips, down his furry chest to his nipples, and then down to his rigid cock. Wrapping his lips around the massive organ, his tongue gently teased the tip, before he popped it out of his mouth, sloooowly and gently licking the length of the turgid organ from Antonio's balls all the way up to the tip.
Antonio moaned, his balls stirring and precum pouring out of the top of his dick like a faucet.
“And,” said Erik with a grin, “I have to pay you back for that dynamite blow job you gave me last year.”
A glimmer of memory shot through Antonio's brain as his new life continued to fix itself in his brain. He had made Erik cum five times!
“But, Erik my man,” said Antonio, “a blow job after all that delayed gratification, it's not enough.” Fumbling downwards, he wrapped his powerful arms around Erik's torso and wrestled him to the soapy floor, steam and hot water still blasting around them. Erik scrambled to resist but Antonio had the element of surprise.
“You see, I think such a LONG, HARD sacrifice deserves something more – like popping your cherry,” growled Antonio into Erik's ear, nibbling hard. “I want to put this big hard cock in your tight, muscular ass and pump you full of my manjuice.”
“Oh, and I get what in the bargain?” asked Erik playfully. “Besides my back tickled by that hard furred torso of yours?”
“Oh, you'll never know until you try,” said Antonio.
As if in agreement, Erik lifted his gorgeous, muscled legs into the air. Antonio needed no further invitation. His wet, musky, furry muscled body crushed Erik in a hard embrace as inch after inch of rock-hard cock slid into Erik's ass.
Every nerve ending of Antonio's being was on fire, as was Erik's. As they rocked together, sparks and stars flew before their eyes. Groaning and grunting, Antonio shot load after load into his lover, as Erik groaned and bathed them both in shot-after-shot of slippery hot cum.
As they grew tired and heard the intercom outside blaring the news that there would be a tie for first place, Antonio, for the first time, knew his new future. Antonio Boccione and Erik Thomassen, joint winners of the World Surfing Championship and gay lovers, in the two-man modelling spread of the century. A new face for gay rights and gay marriage! Cuddling up to stick his tongue in his lover's ear in the slippery mess of love and soap on the floor, Antonio couldn't have been happier.
And thousands of miles away, the genie chuckled. "I guess that'll teach him winning and getting the most isn't everything after all -- he's finally happy to tie or go Dutch!"
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