By Ventrego:
Mike sighed as he turned onto the street where he lived. A laptop and a stack of network diagrams sat haphazardly on the seat next to him; pieces of a broken briefcase were piled in the back seat of his Volvo.
As he pulled slowly into the driveway, Mike winced as branches from the neighbor's tree scraped across the roof. He clutched his work to his side as he stepped out of the car.
A burly man with a beard leaned against the fence that divided their yards. "Hardy har har," the man guffawed, "Don't the trees make the loveliest noise this time of year?"
"You're a riot, Dave." Mike scowled, his papers crumpled against the smooth surface of the computer under his arm. Mike paused and surveyed his neighbor's torso. "Nice arms. You hitting the weights again?"
The weightlifter's grin faltered. He pulled a step back from the fence. Still, he flexed arms that were regaining some impressive proportions after several weeks away from the workout routine. "I lost some muscle, but I'll get it back. I was pissed about dropping my weights until you showed up. You always know how to cheer me up. Hardy har har!"
Mike rolled his eyes and headed for the door.
Most of the papers made it inside with him. There, he found a heavyset latino man sitting on his couch, talking to a short muscular Arab with a thick-but-neat Fu Manchu. "Hi, Jose. Hi, Mutazz," said Mike dispiritedly before he stepped into the kitchen to leave the work mess on the counter.
The voices in the living room continued, but stopped when he returned. The latino man spoke first. "Dave, huh?"
Mike shrugged. "It wasn't exactly a good day before that."
The latino man shook his spare tire with both hands. "Come here. I'll make you feel better."
Mike grinned, but shook his head. The two other men exchanged a look. Jose stood up, announcing, "Well, I'd better get back to Ria before dinner's done. She has a fit if I'm late."
Mike grinned. "She does cook a lot of food for you."
It was Jose's turn to grin as he thumped his midsection. "She likes a man with some meat on his bones." He winked at Mike. "As do certain neighbors I could mention. See ya later."
And a moment later he was out, leaving Mike staring at Mutazz.
Mutazz was compact and muscular. He somehow commanded a room with his stance the way a football player would with size. He waved his hand towards the coffee table. The dirty dishes vanished from existence. "Say you wish it," Mutazz smoothed his moustache, "and Dave will disappear from your life forever."
Mike sighed and dropped his six-foot-one frame onto the sofa. "No wishes, today. Thanks for doing the dishes, though." Mike closed his eyes; his head leaned back slightly on the sofa cushion. His voice mumbled quietly, "Hey, that rhymes. Wishes, dishes, wishes, dishes..."
And Mike drifted off for a half-hour nap, the genie gazing at him thoughtfully.
----------
When Mike awoke, the solid oak table in the dining room was set with a dinner of mushroom couscous, eggplant parmesan, and mugs of a thick brown beer imported from 14th-century Mongolia. The last rays of sunlight shone through the windows to illuminate the meal. Mike inhaled, grinned, and sat down at the table. It had taken months to stop Mutazz producing enormous feasts for every occasion.
"Thanks for making dinner. Looks great, as always."
The genie didn't smile, but sat down across the table.
"So what's up with Jose?" Mike asked as he began to eat.
"He is pleased that his wife is pregnant."
"Oh! Good for him." said Mike. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy."
"Do they know yet?"
Mutazz shook his head. "He insists he doesn't want to know, that he will love a girl as much as a boy. Although it's true he would be devoted to a daughter, he would rather have a son."
Mike's utensils froze in place. "You didn't...?"
"No."
Mike resumed eating. "Well, I'll make sure I don't spoil the surprise for him." He swallowed a bite of eggplant. "I know they've been trying for a while."
"He should have asked. They would have conceived on their first attempt."
"Yeah, well, you did tell him that story about the man who wished for virility. Suddenly all his wives all got pregnant. Then they got more pregnant the more he fucked them. Then he had to keep fucking them."
Mutazz smiled slightly. "That is a good story."
"GOOD?" Mike waved his fork dramatically. "Several exploded! He killed himself to save the rest! That's not good!"
"You should have heard his other wishes. For the world, this was a happy ending indeed."
Mike chewed his couscous. "Whatever you say. Still, after that, you can't be surprised Jose didn't bring it up."
The genie leaned forward. "Speaking of wishes, I still owe you my freedom. Three wishes is the least I can do."
Mike had been surprised when the genie appeared outside his shower at their first meeting. He'd been moving to a new city, new house, and a new job then. He'd been wary of changing anything else. At the time, freeing the genie had seemed like the best way to simplify his life. Little had he known the genie would still be around two years later. "OK. I wish you'd stop bugging me about making wishes."
The genie frowned slightly. "That is not a serious wish."
Mike sighed. "What do you want me to say? I wish for a better job, a better car, a bunch of money?"
"That would be a good start."
Mike's fork hit the placemat with a nearly-silent thump. "Look. You remember granting three wishes to lots of people before, right?"
The genie scowled. Fading sunbeams disappeared from the table. "Do not remind me."
"So you've seen what happens to people when they suddenly have unlimited power. Did that bring out the best in them?"
The genie's mouth twitched his moustache momentarily; Mike continued.
"And did that make you like them?"
The genie's mouth turned down into a full-blown scowl. "No."
"OK. So what do you think you're offering me? I've finally managed to make a decent life here. Sure, my job sucks sometimes, but so do most jobs. I get decent results from the gym, when I have time. And I can make my house payment without panicking constantly. Start giving me more, and I'll get greedy. And lazy. Pretty soon I'll be the type of person you keep telling stories about." Mike propped his arms against the table. "And I don't want to be that guy."
There was a long silence. Mike's rants never lasted less than two minutes; Mutazz waited for the follow-up that was sure to come.
"Besides," said Mike, gesturing in frustration. "What about other people's lives? My wishes would impact others. And if they didn't like what happened, that would really suck for them. It's not like you go back after a wish and say, 'Are you OK with this?'"
"I could."
"But you don't."
"I could."
"But you haven't. Ever." Mike took a deep breath. "Although, you were usually trapped in a bottle again after the wishing was over. It's not like you really could."
The genie's head swiveled on his neck, first to one side, then the other. Another bite of eggplant was gone before the genie's deep voice spoke again. "Very well. I offer you a deal."
Mike's right eyebrow rose. "A deal?"
"A bet, if you prefer. Tell me what you wish. We will then ask those affected if they are happy." The genie squared his shoulders. "You will see that those affected are happy. Then you will make your three wishes."
"Hmm..." Mike tapped his finger against the table. His gaze roamed the tastefully painted walls before settling on the twilight scene of the street outside. Across the asphalt, Jose's one-story house was just visible in the deepening gloom, an older pickup truck parked in the driveway. Mike pursed his lips. "That's not really a fair bet. You could just make them happy with whatever happened."
"I will do nothing but what you request."
Mike sighed. "All right then." His gazed drifted back across the street. "I think I know where I'd start."
----------
The alarm buzzed angrily in Jose's bedroom at five am the next morning. A strong hand struck the top of the clock, shutting off the buzzer before it could wake the sleeping Ria. Jose rolled himself quietly out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The fluorescent light switched on to show his clothes already laid out for the day: size 44 BVDs, clean socks, green uniform pants, and a gray tee-shirt with the logo of the landscape company printed across the front.
The shower was warm and helped wake him. Jose dried off, rubbing the towel over every inch of his husky 5'8" frame. He'd lost a little weight as spring approached, but promised to himself get in shape for swimsuit season. He chuckled at the thought as he stepped over to the sink and wiped the steam off the mirror to shave. His baritone voice rumbled as he hummed quietly, spreading menthol-scented foam over his cheeks and chin. He dabbed a small mound onto his upper lip, then washed off his hands and filled the sink with water.
While the sink filled, Jose's rugged hands gripped the metal razor. The foam warmed his face. He hummed a different tune as he turned off the water, splashed the razor once, and wiped the steam off the mirror again.
The blade pulled hard when it touched the foam next to his ear. Jose frowned, then tried the initial stroke again; his hand jerked away from his burning skin. He pulled the razor to his nose and looked closely at the blade. The metal was nicked and scratched; he couldn't possibly shave with this. The medicine cabinet yielded no replacements. Jose sighed and tossed the razor in the garbage. He'd gone into work unshaved before; since he'd shaved the day before maybe nobody would notice. A quick splash removed the cream from his chin and cheeks.
A glance in the mirror became a long look. People at work would definitely notice he hadn't shaved. His face was covered in heavy stubble. As he leaned in to examine his cheeks, he became aware that the foam on his lip was darkening. And moving. His eyes widened as thick black hairs bristled through the foam. The mound of shaving cream bulged forward and spread sideways, making quiet rustling noises as the moustache beneath it filled in and grew larger. Soon his upper lip was buried beneath a bushy pad of foam-flocked hair. Jose stared for a moment, then smiled experimentally. The moustache split and spread, leaving foam on his lips and dabbing it on the underside of his nose.
Jose leaned forward and splashed water all over his face. When he stood up, the sink was cloudy, and he was sporting a moustache that a cop would be proud of. The mexican opened the drain. His face pulled at the towel as he dried off. A quick check in the mirror showed blue cotton fibers clinging to his cheeks and chin. His fingers scraped the stubble, peeling off the shredded fibers.
His tee-shirt didn't fit right. He thought it was too large until he pulled it down to his waist. It still fit about right, stretching to contain his spare tire as he reached for his BVDs.
Pulling up his BVDs had been done by feel for at least thirty pounds, but this was the first time he'd had trouble. They simply fell off of him. He frowned, then knelt to retrieve them. Another attempt had no better results. Jose sighed and stepped onto the scale, wobbling until he leaned back further than normal. He peeked carefully over his stomach. The numbers read 260. He didn't think he'd lost that much weight; Jose frowned and stepped in front of the mirror to survey his build.
His chest, shoulders, and arms were still thick, but not generous like they were before. Beneath the stubble, he still had his double chin. His ass and thighs were better suited for size 38 than 44. The only thing that hadn't shrunk was his spare tire. In fact, it seemed to have grown slightly, his love handles fuller and his stomach rounder than he remembered. Much rounder. It swelled into a fat ball that bulged a foot in front of his chest. When he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the fill of the shirt, there was no question where he carried his weight. He wasn't exactly small anywhere, but the shirt stretched out in front of him like he'd been inflated.
Jose looked at his changed build in the mirror and said, "That genie's up to something again." He only paused a few moments before adding, "But I still gotta get to work."
Jose stepped into his pants and reached around the oversized stomach to tighten the belt. He found himself pulling inches of belt through the loop before it pulled tight, a process made harder by the interference of well-packed love handles. The beltline completely disappeared beneath his generous spare tire, and the shirt didn't tuck in in front. The pants felt very baggy, but would have to do until he got new ones at lunch.
He made his way through the dark bedroom, his pants flopping loose on his legs, and kissed the sleeping Ria on the cheek. As he stepped out, he felt a pressure against the front right edge of his stomach. The doorknob thumped against the plaster wall. Ria stirred and mumbled in her sleep.
"Go back to sleep, Baby," said Jose quietly. "I'll see you tonight. You and the bambino." Ria smiled faintly and turned over. The round-bellied man frowned as he stepped back, grabbed the sides of his fat roll, and carefully threaded his way through the door with inches to spare.
----------
High-efficiency fluorescent lights flickered to life in Mike's kitchen. The red LED clock on the coffee maker read 7:30. Mike rubbed his eyes and rolled his neck to stretch it. He was fully dressed, but his eyelids remained half-closed until he inhaled the steam from the carafe.
Soon he was pouring coffee into a stainless steel travel mug. The short, muscular genie ambled into the kitchen and leaned against a counter, his eyes piercing as always.
"Any word from Jose yet?"
The genie met Mike's gaze with far too much intensity for 7:35 am. Mike looked away. The genie's voice held a baritone rumble. "Nothing."
"You know, we could be in trouble," said Mike.
"How so?"
The mug tapped against the counter, making a metallic knocking. "Well, I mean, if both Jose and Dave are happy, you win the bet. If they're both unhappy I win. Right?"
"That is the agreement."
"What if one's happy and the other isn't?"
The genie's eyes were steady. "I must have overlooked that."
Mike took a sip from the boiling-hot coffee. "We both did."
"We will just have to observe, and hope for the best."
"Hmm..." said Mike. "I guess so. Have you seen my briefcase anywhere?"
Mutazz gestured to the counter directly behind Mike. Mike turned to see his briefcase lying there.
"You did that," said Mike, a little exasperated. "That wasn't there before."
The genie put up both hands, palms toward Mike. "You've made it clear you want as little magical interference in your life as possible. Now you blame me that you are unobservant early in the morning?"
Mike's brow furrowed slightly, but his fingers wrapped around the briefcase handle. "Anyway, I'll be home around 5:30 tonight. We can see how the guys have reacted by then."
"It would be better," said the genie. "To give them more time. To give them a chance to adapt."
Mike exhaled noisily. "Unfortunately, I don't have more time. If I don't leave now, I'm going to be late for work." He gave Mutazz a quick hug, briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other. "Have a good day, buddy."
The genie's hug was capable of crumbling granite, but merely matched Mike's embrace. "You too."
----------
Dave awoke at 9 a.m. feeling bulky.
After and awkward stumble into the bathroom for his morning piss, he realized the base of his dick was invisible beneath a midsection that bulged forward a good two inches from where his abs used to be.
As he blinked sleep from his eyes and drained his bladder, he squinted at his entire body. It was bigger than before, and softer. The fat he'd fought so hard to keep in check had accumulated overnight, rounding his stomach forward and softening the details of his bulging muscles.
A quick step on the scale confirmed he'd gone from 260 the previous morning to 280 today. He flexed his arms. They were bigger, yes, but less defined.
As Dave pulled on his workout shorts, they felt tighter than usual. Really tight. As he adjusted the waistband, his hand went back to feel the fabric on his glutes. His stomach wasn't the only thing that had rounded out. He twisted to view the bulge of his seat in the mirror. He filled the shorts to capacity.
He pulled his tee-shirt on automatically; the material bulged more than usual in the chest, and the arms, and - Dave frowned even more - there was a slight bulge at the stomach.
"Fuck," said Dave. "It's those two fags next door." He pounded his fist into his palm. "If Mike didn't have the genie protecting him..."
Dave stepped out into the bright morning, cursing under his breath. The scowl remained as he stretched on the front lawn, his body bulging and resisting in new ways as he moved with twenty more pounds on his frame. His face grew mild as he continued his warm-ups, clearing his mind to focus on the workout to come. His muscles began to fill with blood, making the new bulges of his body even bigger.
His workout equipment waited for him in his driveway. He started with bench presses. He'd been bench-pressing over his bodyweight for more than a month. He carefully loaded 220 pounds on the bar. He smirked slightly at the row of plates as he lay underneath it and gripped the bar with both hands.
The weights went up, easy. Really easy. He busted out ten reps like he was lifting 200. Dave set the bar back on its stands and frowned. His feet thumped on the concrete as he re-checked the weights. 220 on the bar, plus 50 for the bar, for a total of 270. Two days ago it had been a struggle to push the weight up five times. Today, he was adding five pounds to each side.
A minute later, it was ten.
Then twenty.
He finally found himself grunting and sweating under 330 pounds of weights. He flexed, positioned his hands carefully, and pushed the bar skyward.
He inhaled and lowered the bar towards his chest. There it was - the old feeling of stretching, straining to push the weight back up. His muscles were really working. One rep, then two, then three, then four...Dave paused momentarily and took a deep breath. Five. Six. His arms were shaking slightly, but he still had it. Seven. The ascent was a real effort. Dave sucked in a shirt-straining chestful of air and lowered the weight one last time. It rose slowly up, a grunt escaping his lips as he straightened his arms. The bar returned to its supports above him. He sat up, breathing hard. Eight reps. Fuck. He'd have to add more weight next time.
Dave stood, torso pumped, shirt stretched taut, chest and arms heaving with each breath. He looked down at the straining shirt, then at the 330-pound bench press he'd just conquered.
His brow furrowed as he stepped over to his squat rack. He loaded the bar with 280 pounds. Near-silent popping sounds came from the elastic waistband as he shifted the workout shorts on his pelvis.
He carefully positioned himself under the bar and reminded himself to focus. He hadn't gotten hurt doing squats in five years; today wouldn't be the day. The bar clanked as he raised it from the brackets, the weight shifting onto his shoulders.
Dave grunted as he did one smooth rep. Then two. In fact, he did ten and set the bar back in place, hardly exerted.
Dave took several chest-stretching breaths. Just the motion of squats is enough to wind you, but he hadn't been straining. Not even close.
The powerlifter shrugged and added 25 pounds of weight to each side and did a practice rep. Not enough. He added more weight for 45 pounds over his previous record.
60 pounds. 70. 80.
Dave's eyes widened as he stepped back and surveyed the bar loaded with 380 pounds. Add the bar for 430 pounds. Dave whistled quietly to himself. Had his squats really gone up 90 pounds overnight?
He positioned himself carefully under the bar. Feet shoulder-width apart, angled out slightly. As he stood up under the bar, the weight settled on his shoulders like he was lifting the earth. His backwards step vibrated through the concrete driveway.
He sucked in two lungsful of fresh air, feeling the weight in his quads, glutes, hamstrings, and back as he lowered himself until his thighs were parallel with the driveway. He exhaled as he powered the weight up again. As he repeated the motion, every fiber focused on keeping the weight under control, his face flushed. His tense legs swelled. Again. He was lifting competition weight here. People would pay to see him lift. His breath came in great gulps, sucked in through face screwed tight with the effort of lifting. Again. He was a beast! He was unstoppable!
As he lowered himself for the sixth rep, there was a tearing noise. The focus was broken by a sudden cool draft on his balls. His feet pounded the pavement as he stumbled a step forward. Realizing he'd just lost control of a weight that could crush him, Dave bent further down; the shorts ripped further. The barbell clanged loudly on the safety support as Dave dropped to the concrete beneath it.
Dave scowled as he regained his feet. His workout shorts hung oddly loose at his waist. A hand went to his backside. He sucked in a deep breath and stood up quickly.
His meaty ass had burst the seat of his workout shorts, leaving two ragged edges of fabric hanging loose. The crack in his meaty ass was clearly visible from the street.
His eyes darted around the quiet street. Jose and Mike were both at work. Ria's car wasn't in the driveway. That genie Mutazz - Dave's eyes flickered over to Mike's house. No face was visible in the windows.
Satisfied, Dave took a moment to survey his ruined shorts.
The seat wouldn't close. The straining fabric around his thighs pulled even tighter as he tried to bring the two flaps back together. He reddened as his hand felt the new, pumped expanse of his glutes. His rear had gone off-season along with the rest of him. He fumed as he pondered the need for a whole new set of workout wear.
Then his eyes were caught by the 480 pounds he'd just lifted. A grin brightened his face before cooling in the breeze that reached private areas of his body.
Still eyeing the empty street, both hands held behind his bigger bubble butt, Dave made his way back into the house.
----------
Mike was interrupted by a knock on the door of his office. A gruff voice with a friendly edge announced, "Package for ya."
Mike looked up - a fair ways up - to see Bruce Dersham standing above him, a grin spread across his face. The delivery driver's 6'2" frame filled a button-down uniform and slacks nicely. Blue eyes sparkled above a neatly-trimmed dark fu manchu.
Mike rose to accept the square, heavy box. "Oh! This must be that book on LISP I ordered." He met Bruce's eyes. "I've been looking forward to this."
Bruce spoke with confidence. "I'll bet you have."
Mike's eyes roamed down from Bruce's rugged face to the tuft of chest hair just visible in the cleft of the uniform collar. Bruce's eyes made a similar survey of Mike's dress-shirt-and-tie ensemble.
Mike was strongly reminded of an earlier time he'd seen Bruce amazingly hairy, with an enormous wild-west style moustache. It was quite a different look than the short-clipped Fu Bruce wore for work. Bruce had blown a load very shortly after that.
And so had Mike.
"I can take lunch whenever," said Mike, the smile never leaving his face. "Want to grab a quick bite to eat?"
Bruce grinned. "Where's good around here?"
An hour later, no longer hungry and very relaxed, Mike dialed home.
Mutazz answered. "Hi, Mike."
"Hi, Mutazz." Mike had long since stopped wondering how the genie knew who was calling. "I think I have a solution to our 50-50 problem. You'll never guess who I ran into."
"That is correct."
Mike looked at the phone for a moment before continuing. "Bruce Dersham. You remember Bruce, right? You helped him unload some workout equipment for Dave."
There was a short silence. "He likes the hairy variety of men."
Mike nodded at the phone. "Well, it's time for my third wish. The tiebreaker, if you recall."
A faint buzzing carried over the line.
"It's time for Bruce's hairy fantasies to come out in the open. Right now, at work. Take him from kind of hairy to really hairy, complete with copious beard growth."
"I am not familiar with that word."
"What word?"
"Copious."
"Copious means it grows pretty fast...very fast!!"
"Indeed." The genie's voice could have been disapproving. "You are being vague."
"Mutazz, I already took a long lunch. I've got to get back to work. Just take that thick facial hair of his and make it grow faster. It's hardly a difficult wish."
"This will be punishing to his skin. The need for protein could be fatal to his system."
Mike gripped the phone tightly. "Don't you DARE. If Jose can gain hundreds of pounds of fat on a whim, and Dave can just bulk up overnight, Bruce can have the fastest-growing beard on the planet. By a wide margin. In perfect health."
"As you wish."
"Thanks." Mike grinned and hung up the phone.
On the other end of the dead line, Mutazz said, "My day is going well. Thank you for asking."
---------
Thursday was a frustrating day for Mike. Two projects at work hit a rough patch at the same time. His new book sat unopened on the bookshelf. He found he had little time to ponder his wishes. The subject only reentered his head as he reentered his home late that afternoon.
As Mike entered the house, Mutazz stood ramrod-straight in the entryway. He was still several inches shorter than Mike. "It is time," he said in a sure, even voice.
Mike stared at the genie. "What are you, an announcer now?"
The genie stared back, expressionless. Mike looked away first and rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. "Sorry, buddy. You're right. Let's see how the guys are doing."
The asphalt was warm beneath them as they crossed the street. Mike knocked on Jose's door.
Jose answered, his very round stomach bulging into the doorway a little ahead of him. "Hi Mike, Hi Mutazz. We weren't expecting you for dinner tonight, but you're always welcome."
Mike smiled. "Thanks, Jose, but I'm here to find out how your new build is working out for you."
Jose looked back over his shoulder, then stepped onto the front porch and shut the door. "I figured you had something to do with that." He thumped the round ball of fat in front of him. "It's been fun...different, you know? But not really me. I mean, none of my clothes fit." He leaned in and added, "Between us, Ria's been a little...disappointed with the redistribution."
The genie cleared his throat. "I must ask you directly: are you happy?"
Jose looked down at the ball belly that rounded his shirt dramatically. "Not really. I mean, the big stomach is fun to show off..." He smiled, put both hands on the sides of the ball, and leaned back. Jose noted Mike's wide eyes with satisfaction. "But I don't want to be just a stomach. I want to be a big fat guy with a huge stomach."
A trace of disappointment crept into Mike's voice. "So...do you want your old build back?"
Jose put a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Sorry, amigo. This thing barely fits in my truck, and it really gets in the way when I'm landscaping."
Mutazz gestured towards Jose. The Mexican's jeans expanded to keep pace with his widening ass and thighs. His arms and chest swelled as his stomach shrank completely back into proportion.
Jose surveyed the results. "Thanks, guys. You sure you can't stay for dinner?"
Mike shook his head. "Nah. Thanks, though. Go have a quiet evening with Ria."
"We will accept your invitation another night." said Mutazz.
After the door closed, the pair re-crossed the yellow stripes on the pavement. As they walked up Dave's driveway, Mike commented, "One down, two to go."
With both of them firmly planted on Dave's porch, Mike sucked in a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
Dave appeared, wearing sweatpants and a 3XL tee shirt. Mike gasped. Dave's burly body had thickened dramatically, completely filling the shirt. The sweatpants bulged in new places. Round brawny arms hung from the shirt, completely filling the sleeve holes. There wasn't much definition, but his body radiated a new power, an increase in mass that dominated the porch without him stepping outside. It was like being in close proximity with a slab of beef hanging from a meat hook.
Dave fixed Mike with a smoldering glare. Mike took a half-step back involuntarily.
"What the fuck do you want?" Dave growled.
The question hung in the air for several moments. Mutazz broke the silence.
"We are here to see if you are satisfied with your off-season build."
Dave's mug nearly broke into a grin as he looked at the genie. "Yeah, I'm satisfied." The grin evaporated as he looked at Mike. "You got something to do with this, fag..." Dave's eyes shot to the genie; his voice softened. "uh...twerp?"
Mike's voice refused to work. Mutazz continued. "Indeed. What specifically do you like about it?"
Dave smirked. "I get to eat what I want, when I want. My lifts have never been higher." His hand thumped his firm, but very meaty abdomen. "And no more crunches. Ever."
The genie's eyes followed where Dave's hand went. "Indeed. Thank you for your time."
The door slammed. Mike stepped backwards off the porch, still silent. Mutazz turned and walked with him back around the fence that divided the yards.
Mike's voice came as a squeak. "One definitely happy." Mike cleared his throat and spoke more normally. "And one not. That just leaves Bruce." Mike looked around for a moment. "Should I...uh...call him at home?"
The genie looked down the street in the waning light. "No need."
A motor rumbled in the distance, growing steadily louder as a white delivery van approached. It pulled up in front of Mike's house, engine rumbling. Mike saw a hand wave as the driver disappeared into the back.
Mike raised an eyebrow at Mutazz. "Bruce just happened to have a delivery here?"
The genie shrugged.
The driver's door opened, and Bruce stepped around to Mike's side. Bruce held out a box towards Mike. Mike's hand reached vaguely forward, but missed the box repeatedly. His eyes were too busy roaming the figure in front of him.
Bruce's clipped fu had sprouted into an huge black goatee and moustache. The thick mass of bristles bushed out beneath his nose and obscured his lips. The bristles covered his chin from his lower lip down and bushed out into an impenetrable mass of facial hair nearly four inches long, beginning to fill the space between his chest and his chin.
"Like the hedgehog?" Bruce said, gripping the massive goatee. His fingers disappeared completely where they reached into the growth.
Mike's jaw hung open. Bruce's knuckles, bristling with their own black hair, reappeared from Bruce's chin.
The back of Bruce's hands were hairy. His arms were hairy. Black strands fuzzed the uniform sleeves where his skin-and-fur disappeared beneath.
The streetlights flickered to life. Bruce looked up at the darkening sky. "Too bad I didn't get here earlier, when you could have seen this better."
Bruce had unbuttoned the top three buttons of his uniform to expose a mat of thick, dark chest hair. The hair spread up above his collar bone to disappear into the heavy stubble that framed his goatee. When Bruce looked at him again, Mike realized hair was curling up all around Bruce's collar, hair thinning to a connecting patch of as stubble it grew up his neckline.
The rest of Bruce's body was covered by the uniform, but the cloth refused to lay flat anywhere. Mike had no difficulty imagining the very hairy body beneath the fabric.
Bruce, still grinning, grabbed Mike's hand and put his palm on the package. Bruce's voice held an easy confidence. "I think they sent you two copies of that book."
Mike looked at the box like it came from another planet. "Uh..." His eyes returned to the very-goateed face in front of him. "Are you happy?"
The grin - nearly invisible beneath the thick facial fur - was steady. Bruce looked at Mutazz, then back at Mike. "Do I look happy?"
Mutazz reached forward to shake Bruce's hand. His grip was a little firmer than necessary. "You have other deliveries to make."
When released, Bruce rubbed his fur-sprouting knuckles. "Uh...yeah. Good to see you, Mutazz. Have a good night, Mike!"
Mike watched as Bruce returned to the van. The neckline hair continued completely around the back. The genie stood expectantly as Mike stared slack-jawed at the retreating van, then guided Mike back into the house. Mike flopped on the sofa and shook his head to clear it.
"He certainly seemed happy. So that's two happy people out of three." Mike sighed. "I guess I owe you three wishes."
The genie grinned. "You have already made them."
"Huh?"
"Jose's stomach, Dave's build, and Bruce's hair."
"Yes, but that was just the bet."
"Did you want to see those wishes fulfilled?"
"Yes, but..."
The genie grinned smugly. "Had I forced you to make three wishes, you would have wasted them. Instead, I got three wishes near to your heart's desire."
Mike's jaw opened and shut several times. "You...you...but that's..." There was a long pause. "I never pictured you having a light touch like that."
The genie's grin faded, his voice aloof. "Subtlety has helped me ruin many wishes over the centuries."
Mike gripped the arm of the sofa and leaned forward. "So...now I don't have to make three wishes?"
The gene shook his head.
Mike sat back pondered this for a long moment. He looked into the genie's deep eyes. "Honestly, I'm not too happy with how things turned out. Jose had to shrink his stomach for work. Dave's still a prick. Can I make one more wish?"
"My friend, if granting you wishes is what you want, I will give you thousands. However, dinner will be ready soon."
"I just wish there way some way to make this work for everyone. I want everyone to be happy."
"Is that a wish?" The genie cracked his knuckles. "Finally, you give me some leeway to work. See you after dinner."
Mike's eyebrows rose.
----------
Mutazz remained tight-lipped that evening, Friday, and all that weekend, even when Mike had to put in overtime. In fact, Mike was so busy with work that it wasn't until Monday morning that he realized things had changed.
The first thing he noticed was when he stepped out in the morning, Jose's car was still parked in the driveway across the street.
Jose's front door opened, and a round stomach emerged.
It swelled out onto the porch, a fat rounded bulge casting a shadow over the welcome mat. It shoved its way forward another foot, swelling to door-filling diameter, the entire mat disappearing beneath the biggest overhang Mike had seen in years. Then the rest of Jose's body made its way through the doorway. The mexican waved at Mike and began to make his way across the street. Mike took in the new expanse of Jose's frame. His chest, shoulders, arms, and legs were as generous as they had been when Mike last saw him, but now that was fronted by an enormous round ball belly that bounced to the rhythm of Jose's steps. He had to lean back to balance it as he paraded it across the street and up Mike's driveway.
"Morning, Mike!" said Jose jovially. His stomach nearly bumped Mike backward as he approached; he turned to the side to give his extended arm room to reach. His stomach remained solidly in front of - and slightly past - Mike.
Mike shook the offered palm. "Morning, Jose. You've...uh...grown!"
Jose bounced his stomach happily. "You got it. Now I've got the fat ass AND the big stomach. Ria's happy, I'm happy. Speaking of Ria, Mutazz promised I'd gain along with her. It's....what do you call it?"
Mike stared at the stomach, entranced. There was actually a shelf on top...a goddamn SHELF... He cleared his throat awkwardly. "uh...sympathy weight?"
Jose nodded enthusiastically. "That's it! By the time Ria's ready to pop..." He thumped his stomach vigorously. "I will be, too!."
"But what about work?"
Jose's hand clamped onto Mike's shoulder. "I got a new job! I handle calls for a company from home. This way, I can take care of Ria. And the baby."
"Nice!"
"You said it. Since I speak English and Spanish, and I'm pretty mellow even when customers aren't, I'm starting in Tier 2 and might get moved to Tier 3."
"Wow - that sounds great!"
A gruff voice carried over from Dave's house. "Hey Mike! Come over here.""
Mike blinked. 320 pounds of powerlifter was standing at the fence between their yards, wearing some large flannel sweat pants and no shirt. A beefy chest and powerful arms were on display along with a generous spare tire.
Jose tipped his head in Dave's direction, but his feet remained firmly planted on the concrete. Mike approached cautiously. The hand that reached over the fence had a walnut-cracking grip; he eyed it without placing his fingers inside. "What do you want?
The hand swung back over to Dave's side of the fence. "Well...uh...I just wanted to let you know that you're OK. That genie is, too." Dave flexed his shoulders and chest; slabs of muscle bulged beneath the layer of fat. "You can check me out any time you want to."
Mike felt like he'd stepped into the Twilight Zone. "What's the catch?"
Dave shrugged. "No catch." He turned and flared his back. "Just trying to be neighborly, that's all."
Mike pursed his lips as Dave faced him again and stood, beefy mitts gripping the fence.
Mike's resolve cracked a little. Dave did have great arms; he'd had to steel himself not to look at them when Dave was working out on the weekends.
Jose's voice carried from just behind Mike. "In case you're wondering what's going on, he gets bigger when you look at him."
Mike looked carefully; Dave DID look even beefier than before. The spare tire was just a little fuller, the arms a little stronger, the legs a little sturdier. Mike would've guessed he'd put on ten pounds since Mike first noticed.
"Really?" said Mike. The powerlifter just grinned smugly. Mike swallowed hard. This was his first time seeing this much beef up close and personal.
Dave put his fists on his hips. "That's right, fruitcake. Get an eyeful of the biggest man on the block."
Mike snapped out of his daze. He looked from Dave, to Jose, then back again. He turned to the jumbo-sized Jose, who stood looking pointedly off to the side. "Hey, Jose!" said Mike.
"Yeah?"
"Check out Dave here!"
Jose glanced at Dave, then looked at Mike. "No. I am not a fan. You remember how he treated you?"
Mike stepped over to Jose and put his hand on the mexican's shoulder. "That was before! That's all behind us! You've got to check him out!" Mike's grip tightened slightly.
Jose looked at Mike, then rolled his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, and followed Mike over to the fence. Jose's gaze dropped. "Are you wearing my sweatpants? How did you get those?"
Dave adjusted the baggy flannel on his waist. The grin grew even more smug.
Mike leaned toward Jose and said quietly, "Just look at him the way I look at your gut."
Jose cleared his throat indignantly, but planted his feet and stared at Dave's bare flesh. Mike turned and did the same. A cocksure grin answered both of them.
Mike let his gaze roam, picturing those arms lifting him onto the bed, rubbing that powerful chest, pulling the flannel pants down and kneading that big rump. A quick peek to the side showed Jose, whatever he was thinking, had the right look.
The smug grin faltered. Dave wobbled in place. "Hey, guys...take it easy."
Under intense scrutiny from two men at once, Dave began to swell like a marshmallow in a microwave.
His arms bulged and thickened throughout their length. His face rounded, cheeks and chin growing fuller and softer, bulging around his jawline. His neck thickened as his shoulders swelled. Meaty, well-padded pecs bulged against his thickening arms, pushing them slowly away from his torso. Beneath the pecs, his spare tire inflated, swelling fat and heavy over his waist. The sweats were filling out rapidly; quads and thighs bulging, the powerful rump expanding to the side and back.
"Uh...guys..." said Dave. His face had grown round and full. His shoulders were so well-padded they began to reach toward his ears, his chest and chin swelling together as his neck disappeared. His pecs grew into two great soft pillows that bulged inches ahead of his chin. His spare tire had grown into a gut that competed with his chest for forward reach, with love handles as thick as his oversized lats. The sweats were no longer baggy; the swell of thighs and calves were clearly visible beneath his gut, and his squared-off power ass filled the material near to capacity.
Mike tapped Jose on the shoulder; the two men looked away.
Dave adjusted his stance; he seemed to be balancing in place. Meat had poured onto his frame and left him swollen slightly out of square. Arms as thick as hams hang wide to his sides, making room for his massive, meat-bloated torso. Jose's sweatpants were so full of beef the normally-wrinkled fabric stretched smooth against Dave's body.
Dave's voice rumbled in a different register. "Fuck. I'm...I'm huge!" Even his double chin had rolled out beneath his beard to bulge onto his huge shoulders and chest.
Mike couldn't help but grin at the huge slab of beef in front of him. "NICE."
Jose cleared his throat.
Dave looked from Mike to Jose, then back again. "Goddamn, guys. I don't mind you guys watching my morning workout, but...from now on, just one at a time, OK?" Dave adjusted the tight sweatpants up in back and down beneath his gut. "When I fill the pants of fat ass here, I know I'm getting oversized." Dave looked at the two men; when neither smiled, he shifted uncomfortably. "Well, enough neighbor crap. Time to see how much weight I can move."
Mike watched as the newly-oversized Dave lumbered away toward his weight set.
Jose frowned at Mike. "Why'd you stop me? I wanted to stare at him till he popped."
Mike grinned. "Believe me, I thought of the same thing. But he wasn't the one that was going to pop."
"Huh?"
Mike shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, just let him work out for now. He's being nice because we can do something to him he likes. I'll take it."
"Suit yourself. I still say he's a sack of shit."
"I know, I know." said Mike.
"Just don't forget who the big guy on the block is. Oh, hey, I've gotta go." said Jose. "My day starts in fifteen minutes. Have a good one."
The two shook hands. Mike watched Jose's rotund, heavy body roll back across the street. Jose had to turn sideways to open the front door before shoving his stomach through. Mike grinned. Somewhere off behind Dave's house, weights clanked on a barbell.
Mike jumped when his cell phone rang. "Hello? You're kidding. No, it makes sense. OK. You too. Bye." Just like that, GeneraTech had lost power for the day and he was off for the day.
Mike looked around, inhaling the fresh air and looking down the sunlit street. Yes, today was going to be a good day.
----------
The afternoon came easy. With Mutazz out "on errands" - Mike had learned not to ask - Mike had the house to himself. He had just opened his book on LISP when a knock at the front door interrupted him.
Mike sighed, put the book aside, and went to the foyer.
A tall man stood waiting outside, complete with a huge goatee and hair peeking out from his delivery uniform.
Mike's enthusiasm was genuine. "Bruce! I was wondering how you were doing." The delivery driver stepped into Mike's home; Mike closed the door behind him.
"Not bad. Got a package for you."
Mike looked down; Bruce's hands were free. "Where?"
Bruce grabbed his crotch; the huge goatee split in a grin. "Right here."
Mike grinned and reached forward, putting his hand over the tall bear's package. "Nice!"
The two looked at each other for a long moment before separating. As he led Bruce over to the living room, Mike asked, "Did you get...taller or something?"
Bruce shrugged. "I shouldn't have. Did you get shorter?"
Mike smiled. "I shouldn't have."
Bruce nodded. "You free Saturday?"
"Sure. What's going on Saturday?"
Bruce's grin broadened. "Well, your genie had a talk with me a few days ago; said he wanted to make me happy. So I'm hairy like this when I have to go to work. But I get weekends off."
"I thought you'd do something like that." Mike shrugged. "Most guys would want a break from that kind of hair growth."
"Well, the weekend IS the reason I'm happy," said Bruce. "I still have to trim my beard way back for work on Monday."
"What?" said Mike. "But....your goatee!"
"No," said Bruce, tugging the mat of bristles. "I'm not saying it right. You don't understand. Your genie and me, we worked something out."
Mike inhaled sharply. "Bruce, what did you do?"
"Well..." The gruff spoke through a grin. "I'm off work on weekends, of course. So I get hairier. A lot hairier." Bruce patted the dark curls rising from the collar of his shirt. "This is nothing. My chest turns into this thick, curly mat. My neckline completely disappears. Pits, legs, arms, everything sprouts. I wanted enough fur for five really hairy men, and boy did I get it. Just hair and more hair. EVERYWHERE."
Mike felt himself flush. "Nice. That would be a fun weekend!"
Bruce nodded. "But that's not the best part." He ran his fingers through the thick goatee that obscured his chin.
"You're kidding," said Mike. "There's more?"
"Well, I didn't want my beard left out, so I added something else. After yesterday, I think I might have overdone it a little. But all weekend, my beard keeps going..." Bristle-backed hands moved up to the stubbled cheeks. The tall bear exhaled through his teeth, making "kkkkksh" sounds as his hands moved slowly away from his face with pauses along the way. Bruce inhaled, then continued. "Me being the fucking fur-nut that I am, I just wanted it to keep going. Nothing I can do to stop it, that's what I told Mutazz." Bruce grinned a very hairy grin. "It's a little scary knowing it'll get bigger whether I'm ready for it or not. I practically have to weed-whack it to keep in it check, or it starts taking over the room. I'm not complaining, I was blowing wads all weekend. But that's why I gotta trim my beard to go to work on Monday." Bruce patted the oversized manly sproutage. "This goatee IS the trim."
Mike goggled. "This is going to happen every weekend?"
"Every weekend for the next year. It's getting me so fucking hot again just talking about it." Bruce said, the crotch of his pants bulging. "That's why I want you over on Saturday. I want you to be there next time."
Mike only thought for a moment before stepping in close. "Oh, hell yes."
"So get over to my place Saturday. I'll give you the hairiest sex you've ever had." Bruce growled. "Believe me. It's GREAT!"
"Why wait?" said Mike.
Bruce wrapped Mike in a hairy-knuckled hug that sent fur bristling around the fabric containing him. Mike leaned up into the enormous beard to kiss the lips hidden within. Bulging crotches ground together in clear view of the front window. The two shared breath for a long minute before they began flinging off their clothes.
----------
A few days later, Mike drank lemonade in the back yard with Mutazz. Wooden chairs with cushions were arranged on the lawn. A tray of snacks and several kegs of Mongol beer sat off to the side.
"The guys come over at 2:00, right?" said Mike.
"Yes," said the genie.
Mike looked around. "Is that loveseat sturdy enough for Dave?"
Mutazz didn't look over. "It may hold if you keep your eyes to yourself."
Mike grinned. "And Jose's stomach is big enough for triplets at this point. He might even weigh more than Dave. Are you sure...?"
"The furniture is adequate to your purposes." The genie looked around. "Perhaps this is what you're missing."
A leather sling appeared, dangling from the branches of a large tree. Mike blushed furiously. "That's one way to throw a party. I don't think we're all at that point yet."
"Dave is." said Mutazz off-handedly.
Mike spat out a mouthful of lemonade. "WHAT?"
"Nothing." The sling disappeared.
Mike took another look at the decorations. "Do we have straws for Bruce? He can't drink anything from a cup."
"Of course. His lips are buried beneath a beard. They will be buried quite a bit more today."
"They're worth finding," said Mike with a sigh.
The genie's finger tapped his lemonade glass, making a series of tinny pings.
"Music? Do we have music?" asked Mike.
Mutazz sighed. "You don't have to set up every single thing precisely Mike. Do you like the guys? Do the guys like you?"
"Yes, and yes," said Mike.
"Then sit back and let it happen." said Mutazz. "Relax."
And with a little effort, Mike managed to do just that.
The party was wonderful.
THE END