I washed my hands, and went to the window as I dried them. Brandon was just leaving the building on the ground floor, walking towards his car. He stopped once, raised his foot briefly and examined it, then continued on.
I sighed wistfully, and I felt the familiar sensation of blood rushing to my crotch.
Well, I thought. That certainly didn’t take much coaxing.
I glanced at the clock. My six o’clock had cancelled, so I was done for the day. And I wasn’t going to walk past the doorman with a very obvious soldier at attention in my shorts, so… I revisited the massage oils.
I sat down on my desk chair, and took off my pants, revealing my erect member. I lubed up my hands and went to work. I imagined Brandon, of course, but my imagination tweaked him a little. He was thicker now, even more than he had been before. His hair was long, again, and he was taller than me in my dream, rather than the five inches shorter he was in real life.
I stroked my shaft eagerly as my own image entwined with his. My hands got to know this new body with great curiosity, not to mention my tongue and the back of my calf. My dick, too, was quite the diligent investigator.
My… dick…
I opened my eyes without realizing I had even closed them. I’m a masseuse. I work with my hands. They’re my greatest asset. And I know how things feel, particularly after increased contact. And after nearly thirteen years of masturbation, my hands knew my cock. They were good friends. And now, it felt different. It felt… bigger.
I glanced down. It was bigger. Definitely bigger. No, what am I talking about? I’m twenty-six years old. My dick is as big as it’s ever going to get, right? Still, just the thought of having a second shot at puberty got me even hornier, and I kept stroking.
This time, there was no mistaking. I was watching intently, with my own eyes, and my dick was getting bigger. Not substantially so, but enough to know it was happening. It gained nearly an inch after seven minutes of stroking it, and it felt amazing.
When I came… I don’t even know how to describe it. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever given to myself. I saw stars for, like, five minutes, staring at the ceiling, breathing like I’d just run a marathon.
Finally, I regained myself, and ran my hand through my hair, perplexed. What had just happened? Did I just will my dick bigger? Or did I… I pulled my hand away from my head and looked at it.
Could it be? It would certainly explain why Brandon’s back had looked like it was getting bigger despite his being asleep. Brandon wasn’t flexing, I was making his muscles bigger!
My physiotherapist had called the treatment revolutionary, had claimed he would make history. I had even overheard him complaining to one of his lab assistants that his contemporaries were “too archaic” to understand his techniques.
Perhaps some part of the treatment had given me the ability to… No, it was all just so preposterous! I was imagining things, I was just high on endorphins, I was…
I looked down at my penis. Though now flaccid, there was no question it was bigger than it had been that morning.
It made no sense. It defied all reason, but I couldn’t deny the evidence right before my eyes!