“You let him haggle you down to what?” Mr. Greery just stared at Eddie in his office, “I can’t run a dealership if you’re selling our cars at a loss.”
“I-It wasn’t at a loss, we got that car at auction for a couple thousand–”
“Don’t quote numbers at me Eddie!” Mr Greery shouted, “I could have sold that junker for eight thousand!”
Eddie doubted him, but he stayed silent, intimidated by his boss. Then again, Eddie was intimidated by everybody. Short, slim, blond haired–the picture of a twink. Mr, Greery was all man. He was a local competitor who’d bought the dealership out a few months prior, and he’d been gunning to fire Eddie the entire time for his “faggotry”. Eddie wasn’t the best salesman, sure, but he could move product. It wasn’t fucking fair, but he knew an outburst could get him forced even faster.
After the half hour tongue lashing, Mr. Greery left him with a warning that if his sales numbers failed to hit projection by the end of the month, he’d be gone. Thankfully, it was his weekend, and Eddie got out of there as soon as he could, and decided he could use a drink or five. He spent the afternoon at home, looking at porn. It didn’t help matters that Mr. Greery was totally his type–big, muscular, bearish, bearded, rough…He ended up fantasizing about his boss fucking him on his office desk, but too much alcohol had made his four inch cock depressingly soft. He couldn’t have anything good today.
He went to close the porn window, but ended up clicking a pop-up that appeared unexpectedly. Cursing, he fought his way through a series of redirects and windows until only one remained, a site he’d never seen before–and it didn’t even look like porn. He tried to close it, but it kept popping right back up, three times, until there was suddenly a banner flashing spastically across the top:
EDDIE FUCKING LOOK AT MY SITE ALREADY
And so he looked, but this couldn’t be real, right? A website…run by a fucking wizard? Wizards didn’t exist! He closed it and the window came back with a new banner:
FUCK YOU EDDIE WE DO TOO
He was too drunk, this was crazy. It was probably just a virus, he’ll take care of it tomorrow. Scared to turn off his computer, he flipped off the monitor and went and watched TV for a bit, but kept sneaking glances at the black screen. What if it really was real…
He woke up in bed, head pounding. He knew better than to drink that much, but fuck if he wasn’t horny. He wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking it, not really thinking about it, and after less than a minute he was cumming…and his cock. It writhed in his hand, suddenly growing a bit longer and thicker…and even harder. He stared at it, but his horniness hadn’t abated at all. He gave it a tentative stroke–it was even more sensitive than before, and ended up spending two hours in bed, stroking himself off over and over again, groaning and grunting, covering himself in cum, before he finally ripped his hand away, sat up on the edge of the bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and screamed.
What in the world had happened to him? It was him in the mirror, right? He waved his hand in the mirror, and then flexed his arm, watching his bicep bulge up, running his other hand past his firm pecs and down over his ridged, furry abs. Furry! He’d never had this much hair on his body before, it was insane. Hell, he’d gone from clean shaven the day before to a heavy, dark shadow across his cheeks and jaw. He’d somehow gone from short twink to muscle bear overnight…and he could only think of one way this might have happened.
He hurried over to the computer, and saw that a receipt email was in his inbox from that strange wizard’s porn site he’d stumbled on the night before:
Thank you for your purchase!
You purchased one item:
- Curse (Target – Self): Too Much of a Good Thing…………$399.99
No refunds. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact spellsandcurses@mail.wiz.
A curse? This wasn’t a curse, this was the best thing that had ever happened to him! He leaned back in his chair, massaging his cock, and before long he was jacking off again, running his other hand all over his body until he blew another load all over himself, rubbing in the cum, and he kept going. He’d never felt like this, so fucking powerful, so fucking…horny! His arm was starting to hurt, but after he came again, he watched both of his arms bulge out with even more muscle, the fatigue drained away, and to celebrate he went ahead and came a third, and a fourth and fifth time, never moving from in front of the computer.
What convinced him to stop stroking himself off wasn’t exhaustion, but two other things. First, he was starving. Looking at the clock, it was nearly five in the evening–he’d spent the entire day jacking off. The second thing was this buzzing in his head, this…craving. His tongue felt like it was missing something, like…a flavor he needed but couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then he spied the ashtray next to the computer, stared at the cigarette butts snuffed out in it, and realized he needed a smoke. He rummaged around the room, surprised to find it as messy as it was. Papers which he usually kept perfectly organized were scattered everywhere. He found a pack in the pocket of a coat he’d left on the floor, tapped one out, found his lighter and got it lit, taking a long drag, and sighing out the smoke. Only then did he realize that he’d never smoked before in his entire life.
Where in the hell had these even come from? And the room had gone from clean to looking like a complete mess all while he’d sat around jacking off all day. Odder still, he didn’t mind much at all. He’d always been a bit of a clean freak, but if anything, the mess felt…comfortable. He ran his hand through his now inch long, thick brown beard, stroking it and smoking for a minute before he even considered the fact that he shouldn’t even have a beard. He looked at his bearish self in the mirror through a thin haze of smoke for a moment, and decided that it wasn’t too much good for him yet.
Bracken's Corner 