Since Mike was working late on a Thursday, Mutazz joined Jose and Ria for dinner that night. After an delicious dinner of carne asada, tortillas, refried beans, salsa, and of course the mongol beer Mutazz always produced for such events, Ria retired to the bedroom to allow the men to chat for the evening.
Mutazz gestured with his mug. "Man, I have to admit, you really got me thinking."
"That is always admirable."
"I mean, about the sultan thing. Remember, when you first made me fatter, you were talking about showing me what it was like to be a sultan."
"As I recall, that did not go over too well. Perhaps if I had told you to undo your belt first..."
"Well, man, now I can't get it out of my head. Me sitting on the couch, fatter than ever, a bunch of beautiful women at my beck and call..."
"I admit I am confused. The current definition of marriage is two people only, is it not?"
Jose shrugged. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with Ria. She's still hot in the sack, even more so since I hit 300. But you say something like that, and a guy gets to thinking, you know?"
"It sounds like you have something in mind."
Jose leaned forward over his round stomach, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, Ria goes away to her sisters' this weekend. She leaves Friday night, comes back Monday morning. So I was thinking how great it would be to be sultan-sized for the weekend, with like six women hanging all over me the whole time. Then, Sunday night, everything goes back to normal - poof. I have a little fun, Ria comes home none the wiser. Sounds good, doesn't it?"
"This sounds rather like a wish."
Jose sat back and shook his head. "No, man. I ain't doing that to you. It's...a favor. "
"A favor?"
"Yeah. Like, you do something for me, I do something for you, ya know? A favor."
"What do you propose to do for me that I cannot do for myself?"
Jose shrugged. "I dunno. You get to pick something. Doesn't have to be right away, it can be a week from now. Or a month from now. Whenever you think of something I can do."
"What can you do for me that I cannot do for myself?"
"I dunno. Like I said, it's something you pick."
The genie tapped his hand against the table for a moment. His gaze met that of the short Mexican. "Very well. I will do this for you, as a...favor."
Jose grinned. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."
That night, Mutazz lay across the sofa in the flickering glow of the TV as Mike returned home.
Mike tossed his briefcase to one side of the entryway. His tie flew in the other direction as he shuffled towards the living room. "Man, what a day."
The genie looked over, face impassive. "I can simply give you all the wealth you require. I do not understand why you persist in this silly charade of 'work'."
Mike sighed. "I'll explain it to you another night. When I'm not so tired." Mike's six foot frame dropped into the recliner next to the sofa.
The genie hit the mute button on the remote. The mute button was one of the small miracles the genie had become accustomed to, much to Mike's relief. Mutazz's voice always sounded rich, but somehow especially so when he asked a question. "Can you explain a 'favor' to me?"
Mike, used to such questions, swung the recliner back before answering. He crossed his arms above his stomach and looked over at the muscular, Middle-eastern genie. "A favor? A favor is when you do something for someone, then they do something back."
"Like when a merchant sells you a trinket. He gives you the trinket, then you give him coinage."
Mike sighed. "No. No money. It's more personal than that. Like, I need a new pass card at work. It takes them like two weeks to get new ones, so the secretary is letting me use hers to get into my office. It's not a big deal for her, but it's a little annoying. So she's doing something for me, right?"
"Indeed."
"Well, yesterday her computer went down. Normally she'd have to call one of the company support guys to come fix it, and they take a couple hours to show up. So instead, she asked me to come up and take a look at it. It was pretty simple problem, so I fixed it for her."
"Did she know her computer would go down when she let her use her card?"
Mike chuckled. "No! But I owed her a favor, and she figured I'd be able to help. That's how it works. You do something for someone, then they owe you to do something helpful back. It's usually something small. If it's something you'd pay money for, it's too big to be a favor. But it's just a little something nice you can do for the other person."
"Jose asked a favor of me today."
"Oh?"
The genie gave a quick description of the weekend Jose had in mind.
Mike whistled. "Wow. That's a pretty big favor. And dangerous, too." Mike sat the recliner up so he could lean forward. "You realize if you do that, you're helping him cheat on his wife, right?"
Mutazz nodded. "I mentioned that it did not fit with the modern definition of marriage. He did not seem bothered by it, so long as his wife did not find out."
Mike pursed his lips and twitched them from side to side. "OK, that's not really that unusual. A lot of guys probably think like that. But honestly Mutazz, I don't think that's something you should encourage. He always seemed so happy with Ria."
"He is very happy with Ria. He spoke quite highly of her. However, in past societies, it was normal for a man to have many wives. Perhaps the problem is with your current system that insists a man sleep with only one other."
Mike took a deep breath. "That may be, but it's what he agreed to when they got married." There was a moment of silence. "Did you already say you would do it?"
Mutazz nodded. "Yes, as a favor."
"Ouch. That makes it tough to back out."
"Back out?"
"To not do it after you said you would do it."
The genie puffed up visibly. "My honor would forbid such an action."
Mike raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid you've got a problem. As do I, I've got work in the morning and I need to get some sleep."
As Mike stood, the genie cocked his head. "Thank you for the enlightenment."
Mike shrugged. "I wish I could give you more advice on this one."
The genie flipped channels on the television long into the night.
Mike was at work when a delivery van pulled up in front of Dave's house. As it backed into the driveway so the delivery doors faced the house, Mutazz stepped out onto Mike's porch to observe.
Dave, a massive powerlifter, stepped out to meet it, his heavily muscle-bound body straining the limits of what should have been baggy sweatpants and a loose tank top.
The delivery driver stepped out of the van. He was about 6'2", moderately built, with buzz-cut hair and a short-cropped fu manchu. The light dusting of fur on his arms hinted at a hairy body beneath the uniform pants and short-sleeved dress shirt.
The man pulled out a clipboard and walked up to the massive bodybuilder. "Wow. You must be the guy with the workout equipment."
Dave grunted and snatched the pen from the driver's hand. He scrawled his name deep on the form, then squeezed with his fist. The pen cracked audibly. He handed the pieces back to the astonished driver. "Fuckin' outgrew the other one."
The driver looked at the pen in surprise. "I can imagine.." He strode over to the back to the van and swung open the double doors.
He patted a large shrink-wrapped pallet with three bulky boxes on it. One of the boxes had crumpled under the weight of its contents; black iron weights were visible through the ripped cardboard. As he stepped in, he called out, "They left me without a pallet jack today. Think you can help me with this one?"
Dave strode around to the back of the van and flexed his bulging muscles. "Nope."
The driver's jaw dropped slightly. "C'mon, man. All I need is two guys to slide this thing out of the truck and onto your driveway." The driver smiled. "For a guy like you, this would be nothing!"
"Yup." Dave didn't move. "But I already signed, and it's your job."
The driver shifted position irritably. "C'mon, man, cut me some slack. I'll have to unwrap this and carry it out piece by piece otherwise."
Dave shrugged. "Let me know when you're done." The bulky man walked back into his house.
The driver made an O with his fuzzy lips and blew out noisily.
As he began to cut through the squeaky plastic wrap with a box cutter, Mutazz approached the back of the van.
The short, middle-eastern genie's voice was level as always. "May I help you?"
The driver slashed at the plastic. "Aw, forget it. I'll just be late for every other delivery today. No thanks to that prick."
Mutazz stepped up into the back of the van. "I would like to help you."
The driver tensed up suddenly, holding the box cutter in front of him. "Hey, man, back off. I ain't got no money, and this stuff's too heavy to steal."
The genie raised his hands. "I have no intention of stealing anything. I simply wish to help."
The driver shifted position several times, as if uncertain how to stand. "Well, uh...I'd be happy to have you help, but if you get hurt, it's my ass on the line."
"I will not be hurt. Let me move this for you. I would...consider it a favor."
The driver considered a moment, then stepped back, holding the box cutter out. "Be my guest."
The genie stepped out of the truck and grabbed the pallet, the wood half-crushed under the weight of equipment piled on top. With one arm, Mutazz pulled the entire assembly out of the truck as though it were made of styrofoam. It fell to the concrete with a crash, the half-cut plastic tearing. Wood fractured as the pallet landed, the structure crumpling at the sides and scattering splintered wood. Three boxes tumbled in different directions, spilling heavy iron plates and solid steel bars in a heap on the driveway.
The driver looked at Mutazz wide-eyed, then grinned. "Damn! Looks like you've been working out yourself!"
Any comment Mutazz might have made was cut off by loud swearing from Dave's porch. The powerlifter stomped across his lawn, his oaths echoing across the street. "You motherfucker! I'm gonna sue you, and your company, and everyone else related to this!"
The driver calmly closed the doors to the delivery van. "It's on your driveway, and you already signed. Have a nice day."
Dave's jaw dropped. Fists curled, he swung towards the driver in a threatening gesture. The he noticed Mutazz standing off to the side. The genie's head shook from side to side, ever so slightly.
Dave yelled incoherently and stormed back into his house, slamming the front door so hard it rattled the frame.
The driver whistled. "Quite a neighbor you've got there."
"Indeed. Thank you for permitting me that small pleasure. I...owe you one." Mutazz extended a hand. "My name is Mutazz, should you ever need me."
The driver grinned, which did attractive things to his moustache. "Bruce. You're ok, buddy. Oh...here's my card." Bruce pulled out his wallet and handed over a small white business card. "If you need anything delivered, I'm your man. And watch out for that Dave guy, he's trouble."
"Not so much as you might think."
Mutazz stood and watched as the delivery van sped off down the street.
Mutazz lay again in front of the TV, absorbing culture and observing bias across the spectrum of channels. When the phone rang, he stopped changing stations as the receiver floated to his hand. On screen, a soap opera woman lay dying of cancer in a hospital. "Greetings."
"Hey, Mutazz. It's Jose! What's up, man?"
"I continue to learn of modern culture. It is banal, yet intriguing."
The woman's husband came on the set, sobbing next to her bed.
"Oh, TV. Yeah, it's great. Look, Ria's packing, and I just wanted to make sure we were on for tonight."
"I will admit I have some concerns after speaking with Mike."
The girl informed her husband she had a terrible secret to reveal to him. He blinked back tears, incredulous that she could have kept something from him for so long.
"Yeah, well, don't get upset when I say this, but Mike's kind of a prude. Everything's got to be just his way, you know? I'm not doing this because I don't like Ria, it's just a little fun on the side, you know?"
"I know."
On screen, the girl's long-lost identical twin appeared. The man stared at the twin in shock. Mutazz sat a little more upright on the sofa.
Jose's easy voice held a little more force than usual. "So are we on for tonight?"
A commercial for laundry detergent appeared on the screen, bubbles bouncing wildly around a stubborn stain.
Mutazz sounded suddenly confident. "This weekend will be the most fun you have had in some time."
"You're the greatest, man. See ya later."
On screen, half the stain dissolved, while the leading detergent was unable to penetrate it.
Mutazz began flipping channels again.
Mike arrived home just as Jose was kissing Ria good-bye. The fat Mexican and his wife waved at Mike, who waved back as he walked up to his house.
Mike peered out his living room window to watch Ria's car drive away for the weekend. He turned to Mutazz, who was lying on the couch, reading The Worm Ouroborus.
"Well, Ria's gone for the weekend."
"I expect Jose to call at any moment."
"You know you shouldn't do this, right?"
"I appreciate your input, but you do not decide what I should do."
Mike shrugged. "OK, then. I won't tell Ria. But if she finds out on her own, I'm not covering for you two."
Mutazz gave Mike a look that was difficult to decipher. "You have no reason to be concerned."
Mike's response was cut off when the phone rang. Mutazz picked up the handset from next to the couch. "Jose. Yes. I'll be right over."
As Mutazz rose from the sofa, Mike blocked the door for a moment. "Look. I...uh...I know Jose's straight. He knows I like big guys, and he's probably thinking I won't be able to control myself if he gets even bigger."
Mutazz's response held no edge to it. "He is right."
Mike swallowed hard. "I probably deserved that."
"I have seen how Jose values your friendship. If you were to come over now, it would frustrate you further and intrude on a fantasy he is supposed to enjoy."
Mike clenched his jaw. "How can you be so naive and still be right all the time?"
A tilt of the head was Mutazz's only response.
Mike stepped out of the way. "Fine. But do me a favor..."
A smirk appeared on Mutazz's face. "A favor?"
"Yes, a favor. I want a picture of him at sultan size."
Mutazz grinned. "Very well. As a favor for you, I will produce a picture of Jose for you, at the full size he attains tonight." Mutazz produced the business card the delivery driver handed him earlier. "And in return, you can do a favor for me."
Mike looked at the card in surprise. "Who is Bruce Dersham?"
"A man I owe a favor I do not know how to repay. If you can help me learn more about him, I would consider it a favor, and thus repay you."
Mike blinked several times. "Does what you just said mean we'd be even?"
"As I understand the system, yes."
Mike held the card up in the air. "I'll see what I can do."
---------
When Mutazz knocked on Jose's door, the short, three-hundred-pound Mexican appeared wearing boxer shorts and a white tee-shirt.
Mutazz surveyed Jose's attire as he stepped into the house. "I see I will not have to tell you to remove your belt."
Jose grinned. "I figured I should go for comfort, right? I mean, it's my harem."
"Indeed. First, a home fit for a sultan." Mutazz snapped his fingers. The kitchen was suddenly adorned with fringes and beadwork, the chairs and table replaced with distinctly Turkish designs.
"Next, the girth fit for a sultan."
Jose gulped as if he were swallowing something. Suddenly, the material around him stretched tight as his body swelled outward, fat plumping up his already-round frame. He grinned as his stomach became overstuffed, bulging in new directions to the sides and below to accommodate all the poundage. His chest swelled into two broad man-tits that tore the straining shirt that fought to accommodate their spreading size. Beefy thighs trapped the boxers around an ass that puffed up rounder, and rounder, and rounder still, until the material gave across the seam burst outwards at the crotch. His cheeks and chin grew overfull, creating new round lines that framed his face. His arms and fingers grew pudgy as the weight piled on.
In less than a minute, the short, brown man went from three hundred pounds to four hundred and fifty.
When the growth stopped, Jose looked down at himself in shock. "Shit!"
Mutazz folded his arms. "If you find the results unpleasant..."
Jose's uncertain hands reached down to the thick layers of flab that surrounded his body. He groped the side of his overblown spare tire experimentally, the torn half-shirt disappearing between his chest and arm as he did so.
"This is GREAT!" he exclaimed. "I don't know if I'd want to be this big all the time, but for a weekend...hell, yeah!"
Mutazz waved his hand. Jose's very bulky body was suddenly covered in a lose cotton robe of simple but elegant design. The genie smiled.
"I am glad you approve. The only thing remaining for the weekend is your harem. Have you considered how many women you want?"
Jose grinned. "Six. No...ten. No...twenty. Twenty, man!"
"As you wish...or rather, as a favor to you. Have a seat in the living room and the women will join you."
Jose lumbered toward the couch, his swagger accentuated into a determined waddle as he moved his bulk across the room. The sofa groaned heavily beneath him when he dropped onto it.
The short, very fat Mexican grinned as he stretched his arms out across the back of the sofa. "Bring on the women."
Mutazz looked over at the entry to the hallway. Soft, syncopated music filled the room. A short woman of good figure appeared, dressed in a red silk belly-dancer's outfit, a red veil over her face.
"Nice!" Jose said.
Another followed, very similar, wearing green.
Jose's head nodded vigorously. "YEAH!"
Soon the room was filled with women in outfits of every color: yellow, orange, gold, tan, sand, teal, pink, lavender, and a dozen more. Jose reached out and grabbed randomly at the female flesh paraded in front of him.
"Now this is the life of a sultan!"
A half-dozen women fell on him, giggling, stroking his ample frame. The others danced seductively nearby, or cooed and posed for his attention. Jose grinned widely, shifting his crotch in an obvious manner.
A mug of Jose's favorite Mongol beer appeared in his hand.
"Fuck YEAH!" he laughed. "Mutazz, buddy, you are the greatest!"
Mutazz allowed himself a smile. "Would you consider this a favor, then?"
Jose gestured at the women fawning over him. "You really know how to come through for me. No complaints."
"Wonderful." Mutazz produced an instant camera. "To remember the evening."
Jose smiled, a dozen scarf-veiled women crowding around him to get in the picture before the flash went off.
"And with that," said the genie. "I leave you to what I hope will be a very enjoyable weekend."
Jose was unable to answer; two of the women were kissing him through their veils.
Mutazz crossed the street with light steps. As he floated into the living room, Mike looked over from his reading. "I don't remember seeing you in a good mood before."
Mutazz stood nearby, looking through the window at the lights shining from Jose's house. "I believe I shall get used to humans yet."
Mutazz's grin was infectious. Mike asked, "So what did you do?"
"What I always do. I gave him what he wanted." The genie handed the instant photograph to Mike.
Mike's eyes went wide and he shifted position quickly. "This...is Jose?"
Mutazz nodded. "Looks happy, doesn't he?"
"Yes, very...uh...happy."
The genie stood expectantly.
Mike looked up at him. "What?"
"I believe you owe me a favor now."
"Oh. Bruce. Yeah, well, I checked him out on-line. He's a class C driver, smoker, not married, likes to barbecue. And, it turns out his email is registered on some groups he's posted to." Mike pulled several printouts from the end table near the recliner. "Body hair is totally hot. I love running my hands though it." Mike shifted through the pages. "I love facial hair, but have to keep mine trimmed for the job." "Check out this furball." "'I'm only moderately hairy, but I wear it well.' There's a couple dozen like this."
"You suggest I indulge his fetish."
Mike shrugged and handed over the pages. "I'm not telling you what to do. You asked me to find out about him, here's what I got. This is how favors work."
Mutazz stood for a moment, regarding the sheets of paper.
"Decide what you're going to do, then go say hi to him." Mike held up the photo of the much-enlarged Jose. "I have a date with this picture."
Mutazz didn't grin as he stepped out onto the porch.
Bruce's house was a small bungalow in a quiet neighborhood. Mutazz appeared on the doorstep without fanfare and knocked.
Bruce appeared at the door, beer in hand, wearing jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. A modest amount chest hair was visible on the skin exposed between the fabric panels.
"Hello? Uh...how did you find me?"
"I know where everyone lives."
Bruce looked stunned for a moment before erupting in a drunken laugh. "Oh, the phone book! You're a riot, man." A sturdy hand reached out to clasp Mutazz on the shoulder. "Hey, thanks for helping me out today. What can I do for you?"
"I can give you a beard that would fill a room."
Bruce got wide-eyed, then laughed again, a little unsteadily. "Looks like somebody's been checking me out on-line."
"Perhaps you would prefer your moustache grow faster on the weekends."
Bruce's laugh continued, louder. "You've really done your homework, buddy."
"I can make your armpit hair sprout so thick and full it makes your dress shirts bulge."
Seeing Mutazz's grave expression, Bruce quieted down. "Okay, cowboy, I'll play along. What's your game? What're you selling?"
"I owe you a favor, which I intend to repay."
Bruce took a swig from the beer. "Selling me hair growth snake oil? I get those offers on the net all the time."
"I am not selling anything."
"Then what do you want from me?"
"Answers."
Another swig. "Then ask me questions."
"Indeed." Mutazz paused a moment. "What part of your body do you most wish was hairier?"
Bruce took another swig from the beer, rolling it around his mouth while he gazed at the short, middle-eastern man.
"Buddy, you got no business knowing this, but if I had my way I'd be covered in way too-fuckin-much hair, and I'd have a real problem with it sprouting unexpectedly. But this is real life. I work with what I got, and I have to stay trimmed for my job. So if you'll excuse me..."
Mutazz seemed to consider for a moment. "That sounds like a wish rather than a favor. Let's start with the armpits, since you mentioned those specifically on the third of January."
"Now, listen you..." Bruce cut off in mid-sentence, a surprised look on his face as his arms lifted slightly from his sides. "What the fuck?"
There was a long pause while Bruce stood there, wobbling under the familiar influence of alcohol. His arms jerked out a little farther. He pulled them down again, face suddenly lost in concentration.
He looked over, horse-eyed, at the seam of his sleeves where they tucked under his arms. The fabric bowed out subtly to either side of the stitching as though something had been tucked behind.
The forgotten beer tumbled to the patio as Bruce whipped off the flannel shirt, arms disappearing awkwardly behind him for a moment as he pulled his hands through the sleeves. He raised his arms to shoulder level and ducked his head to look beneath.
His torso and arms were modestly hairy. But his armpits sported notably thicker tufts of hair that pushed outward in twin dark patches.
Bruce gasped when the tufts bushed outward repeatedly, growing and growing and growing to fill the angle between his arms and chest with a thick, bristly hair.
He lowered his arms carefully, eyes widening as the hair compressed and distorted around his flesh. Soon he stood, arms against his side, twin tufts of hair escaping his pits to bush out in twin patches next to his pecs.
"I don't know who the fuck you are..."
He jumped as the tufts scraped forward against his skin, still growing thicker and fuller.
Mutazz gestured to the hair. "My favor to you is complete. I enjoyed irking Dave, thank you for the exchange."
The genie disappeared without fanfare, leaving an Bruce to stare at the hair sprouting from his armpits, his dick pressing against the fly of his jeans.
Saturday morning, the four-hundred-fifty pound Jose awoke, his bulk sprawled across a large floor cushion that filled his bedroom, twenty veiled women in exotic outfits sharing the bed with him.
He leaned to the closest one, wearing gold silk. "Let me kiss you."
She leaned forward, lips pressing against the silk that masked her.
"No," he said quietly, reaching for the fabric. "Without this."
She retreated but a few inches, then allowed him to slowly reveal her face.
His jaw dropped when he saw Ria's nose and lips beneath the familiar, attractive eyes.
His cries awoke the other women. "Ria! What trick is this?"
The women smiled. A women in green removed her veil, to reveal the same face Jose had woken up next to for seven years.
As did the woman in tan. And seventeen others.
Soon, the much-fattened Jose found himself sitting between twenty identical copies of his wife, all with the same maddening smile.
Jose looked around frantically. "Ria..." He saw another of the faces. "Ria..., I..."
"Shhhh..."
Twenty hands reached for him, laying him back on the cushion.
"Mutazz told me what you wanted to do," said Ria orange.
"He said you truly loved me," said Ria pink.
"And you wouldn't really want to hurt me," said Ria gold.
"So we found a way..."
"...for you to be happy."
Jose's mouth worked, but no sound came out.
The Rias advanced seductively. "Besides..."
"It's not so bad..."
"...is it?"
Jose moaned as their hands explored his flesh. His expression shifted repeatedly. A bunch of grapes was dangled over his face.
With a smile, he sucked a ripe fruit from the loving hand of his wife.
A pounding on the door woke Mike late Saturday morning. He staggered to the door in his boxers, feet shuffling across the carpet.
The bright daylight made him squint as he opened the door. "Hello?"
A man slightly taller than him, with a short-cropped fu manchu and a tee-shirt, stood on the porch. The sleeves of the shirt bulged around two massive tufts of armpit hair that stretched the fabric on either side of the seam. As Mike watched, the fabric bulged further, hair beginning to escape past the sleeve into the open air.
"Where the fuck's Mutazz?" the man growled.
Mike rubbed his eyes and stared at the tremendously hairy pits for a moment. "You..uh...must be Bruce. Come on in, I'll...uh...get him."
Bruce shouldered his way into the house, arms not quite going flush against his sides. "Mutazz!"
The short, muscular, Middle-eastern genie stood in the kitchen. "Surely you do not need another favor already."
Bruce raised his arms behind his head, the sleeves and sides of the shirt bulging strangely, twin massive bristles of hair bulging out beneath his arms. "You gotta fucking stop this."
Mutazz turned to Mike. "I spent years distorting people's wishes in the most grotesque way possible. Of course, they were not happy. Now I give people what they want, and still they are not happy. Are the humans insane, or am I?"
Mike stepped between the irate driver and the genie. He did his best to meet the eyes of the man with the pissed-off, moustachioed face. "We'll have this sorted out in just a minute."
Mike pulled Mutazz to the side.
"What did you do to him?"
"He had a fetish for superfluous armpit hair."
"You weren't supposed to piss him off!"
"He wanted it to sprout out of control." The genie gestured to the irate man's armpits. "Given that description, I would say I restrained myself admirably."
Mike leaned towards the driver. "Did you really say you wanted it to sprout out of control?"
The driver grabbed Mike by the back of the neck. "Look. I was drunk. I probably said a lot of things. Make it stop."
Mike turned to Mutazz. "Put him back to normal. Now."
The genie shrugged. Abruptly, the bulging shirt fell slack, the man's armpits returning to their natural, lightly hairy state.
The man stared at his pits for a moment, then poked at them with his fingers. Finally he let his arms drop, mood hardly improved. He rushed toward Mutazz, arm swinging wide for a punch.
Mike jumped in the way. The driver bowled into him, sending them both tumbling hard to the linoleum floor. The driver landed flat on top of Mike, head bouncing against Mike's chest. Mike's head bounced on the floor.
Both yelled "OW!" Mike winced and reached for the bruised back of his head.
He found himself staring directly into the driver's face, with that short-cropped fu machu framing his lips.
Mutazz's hand reached quickly for the driver's shoulder. Mike swatted it away with a quick, "Don't."
He looked back into Bruce's eyes. The driver grunted. "You OK?"
"Yeah. Head's a little sore. You?"
"I've taken worse tumbles."
"I bet you have."
There was a long pause.
Mutazz sounded angry. "You dare to attack my former master?"
Bruce's gaze didn't leave Mike's face. He smiled a little. "Should I be worried about him?"
"Nah. Don't try to hit him though, it'll hurt you more than it hurts him."
"Tough customer."
"You don't know the half of it. Sorry about the pits. I kind of gave him that idea."
"You should be more careful next time."
"I will." Mike paused a moment. "He still owes you, though."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm thinking...picture this. It's the weekend, you're sprawled out in the tub. The water's hot, you're relaxing, your dick springs to life."
"Sounds right so far."
"You notice your arms are looking pretty hairy. It spreads to your chest, your pits, your legs, your ass. Every inch of your body's getting kind of bristly and thick."
"Hmm...not bad..." Bruce braced himself on his elbows above Mike, who shifted his hands to cushion his head against the floor.
"Suddenly your body's sprouting hair like crazy. Your chest, your pits, your legs, your ass, everything. Your lying in the tub, dick standing at attention, and you just keep getting hairier. You're starting to look like a wild man, with no end in sight. It's tufting all around you, against the tub, into the air, into the water, and it seems like the more you have, the more you want. Pretty soon, the tub's overflowing as you start to fill it with your massive body hair."
Bruce leaned down against Mike, a bulge in his crotch pressing against the pinned man. "That could be hot, but is it gotta stop soon."
"Well, you reach for your dick again. It's still visible despite all that hair, and the minute you touch it, your body hair stops growing. You're so fucking hairy it's unbelievable."
"Nice!"
"But the second you touch your dick, your moustache starts sprouting. Not the fu, just your upper lip. But it's really going. You can actually look down and watch it slowly get bigger, spreading into a big cowboy stache that covers your mouth and is as wide as your face. Soon you're jacking off, feeling the fur all over you in the tub, and that stache on your lip sprouts and sprouts and sprouts. It's getting longer, wider. It's a heavy weight on your lip, and you're totally turned on."
Bruce ground against Mike. "You got that right."
"And as you get close to coming, that stache just sprouts into a monster. It's down to your chin, wider than your shoulders, wider than the bathtub, fighting with your nose for space as it just bushes up bigger and fucking BIGGER."
The driver laughed a little. "Holy shit!"
"And you blow your wad all over everything. The fur, the tub, the stache. You stay that way as long as you lay there, running you hands through all that hair. But when you stand up...you're back to normal. All the hair is gone. And the stache is back to your little clipped fu, ready for work."
Bruce gasped. "That would be so fucking hot."
"In the bathtub?"
"Yeah."
"Any reason it can't be MY bathtub?"
Bruce grinned. "Sounds fucking great."
Mike glanced at Mutazz. "The would be a good way to repay a favor."
Mutazz, watching with affected disinterest, nodded mutely.
"Let's go." Mike grinned as they rose from the floor. He led Bruce towards the main bathroom, the driver's steel-toed boots thumped solidly on the carpet in he hallway.
Mutazz turned on the television loud enough to drown out the grunts and sounds of water splashing carrying from down the hall.
It was nearly half an hour later that Bruce and Mike emerged, freshly dried from a bathroom encounter, grinning from ear to ear.
As he stood in the doorway, Bruce turned the grin towards Mutazz. "You know, man, you're okay."
Mutazz didn't turn down the TV. "I am relieved to hear it."
Bruce leaned over and kissed Mike on the lips. "Call me."
"You got it."
Bruce walked out onto the street, where his 4x4 truck waited.
Mike walked over and shut off the TV. "Finally. I was beginning to think I'd never get any action in this neighborhood."
Mutazz tossed the remote aside petulantly. "I see someone found satisfaction today."
Mike's grin didn't falter. "Better than that. I helped you solve your problem. You owe me now."
"What?"
"You wouldn't have figured out how to fix things without me there. So, you owe me."
Mutazz rolled his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"
Mike invited Jose over Monday morning for an early breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
Mutazz quietly poked at the food in front of him.
Mike, on the other hand, seemed eager to talk. "So how was your sultan-sized weekend?"
"Man, that was a blast. Ria and I both loved it. I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime."
Jose looked pointedly at the genie, but Mutazz ignored the comment. Mike continued the conversation.
"What was it like dropping back down to 300 today?"
"Being that big was fun, but it's a lot easier to get around at this size." Jose speared a large piece of butter-soaked pancake with his fork. "I'm telling you, Ria is quite a woman."
"She'd have to be to please you. You were quite a man this weekend."
"How would you know?"
Mike stammered for a moment. "Uh...just a guess."
"Uh huh." Another piece of pancake disappeared into Jose's mouth.
Mike cleared his throat. "I'll admit, I was a little upset you didn't invite me over. I mean, for at least one dinner, hosted in true sultan style."
"Maybe we can do that next time. I was too busy with Ria, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, yeah." Mike grinned. "I know exactly what you mean. Speaking of which...was it a turn-on for you, being that big?"
"It was so fuckin' hot I blew a couple loads just because there was so much of me. Ria didn't have to do nothin'."
"Really."
Mike signalled Mutazz, who pursed his lips. Jose's clothes were replaced with a white robe. The short man's chair tipped backwards as he suddenly regained his massive proportions from the night before.
Jose looked at the himself in shock. His gaze went over to the genie.
Mutazz shrugged, tipping his head towards Mike. "I owed him a favor."
Mike, grinning broadly, disappeared under the table. A moment later his face pressed under that massive brown apron to reach Jose's uncut cock.
Jose grunted, feet off the floor, hands reaching ineffectually for the front of his rotund stomach. "Hey man, I don't..."
Mike's head popped up from under the table. "Just shut up and let me do this."
Mutazz cleared his throat. "I believe this would repay the favor you owe me."
Jose tried to protest, but the words came out as a rather throaty "ooooooohhhhhh..." as Mike did his thing. And again. Jose's head rocked back, a smile spreading on his face. "Oh...kaaaaay..." Mike's hands began to grope and squeeze the broad expanse of brown stomach above him.
Mutazz excused himself silently, leaving Mike to enjoy his sultan-sized neighbor.
Fifteen minutes later, Jose was standing at the front door, back to normal size, his work clothes having reappeared like magic.
"I may not be into guys, but...man, you're really good."
Mike grinned. "I could say the same about you, big guy. And here I was afraid you'd be tired after the weekend."
"That's never been a problem for me." Jose clapped Mike on the shoulder. "That felt great! Maybe I should have you talk with Ria about the stuff you did down there."
Mike's grin faltered. "I'll let you decide if you want to tell Ria or not."
"Believe me, if It would bother her, I'd have made you stop." Jose opened the door and stepped outside. "Who's going to argue with a sultan?" Three hundred pounds of straight neighbor rolled down Mike's sidewalk to leave to work.
Mike smiled and shut the door. "Who, indeed?"