Transform: New Blood 5
by AKA
Chuck sat naked on a very plush, very comfortable chair in a large, mirrored room off the master bedroom in Michael and Carlos’s apartment. A wide couch, dark gray with fat, soft pillows, sat to his right where Joseph, wearing only a pair of gray cotton boxer briefs and Bobby, wearing the smallest pair of briefs Chuck had ever seen – barely more than a pouch that sagged under the girth and heft of Bobby’s massive meat and balls – were very passionately making out. A copious wet spot stained the crotch of Joe’s underwear to a dark gray and Bobby’s already challenges shorts were stretching as far as they could to accommodate his growing erection.
Chuck, as usual, wore nothing at all. As far as he was concerned, he was going to stay butt naked as long as possible before he was forced to cover an inch of his beauty in cloth.
Frazz stood on a low platform in front of him wearing a black jockstrap. At the moment, Frazz’s butt was facing Chuck and he had to admit, if only to himself, that there was something decidedly sexy about a man’s ass cupped in an athletic supporter, even an ass as perfect as his boyfriend's.
He absently rubbed his palm against the smooth, thin skin of his cock as he watched his lover getting measured by the oddest little man Chuck had ever encountered. He had to be 100 years old if he was a day, a stooped little leprechaun with fly-away whisps of snow white hair on his age-spotted head, glasses as thick as the bottom of a Coke bottle, fingers that looked as close to dried twigs as anything else and a back stooped by age or occupation, since this was, according to Michael, the best tailor on the island of Manhattan.
Chuck wondered absently what the man thought about these four gigantic gentlemen and their highly unusual measurements, which he jotted down in a little lined yellow pad. He stretched the tape along every curve and bulge and mass as if these amazing and unbelievable measurements were nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Chuck twisted his arm and bulged his right bicep into full glory – or as full as was allowed in his currently compressed physical state. He wondered how big it was as he looked back at Frazz’s impressive upper arm, and he built a couple of extra inches of muscle mass into it just in case.
He caught Frazz watching him as he did it, and the dark man smirked and glanced down at his thigh while the man measured its circumference. “I better flex it, so you can make plenty of room.” Chuck frowned as he watched Frazz’s thigh swell to enormity, thick veins popping up along the masses of defined brawn, each muscle separating as it swelled.
The man allowed the tape to stretch without comment, merely marking another measurement on his pad before moving on. “Is this as tall as you plan on being?”
Frazz scowled. “Excuse me?”
“I need to take your inseam, sir. I just want to be sure that you’re at your preferred height. Wouldn’t want the cuff to ride too high.”
“He’s our tailor, Frazz,” Michael explained as he entered the fitting area. “He’s aware that we have certain undefined talents in this area.”
Frazz raised an eyebrow curiously, but simply stated in his low rumble, “I think I’m adequately tall, thank you. This will do.”
“Very good, sir,” the man replied, as he stretched the tape from Frazz’s heal to a point on his inner thigh at his crotch.
“Deft touch,” he complimented. The man said nothing and simply marked the measurement and continued.
Chuck looked at Michael. He had to admit that the man looked good in a suit, particularly one so expertly tailored to his exact dimensions. “He does all your work and you’ve never…” He lifted his dick and pointed it at the man’s bent body, wagging his monster in expression of intent.
“No. We’ve explained it to him, of course. Our measurements change sometimes rather drastically, depending on our mood. He’s conjured up some rather interesting gear for Carlos and I – the man works wonders with leather. But he doesn’t express an interest, so we just leave the offer on the table.” He smiled slyly. "He likes to watch, though."
“I’d fuck him,” Bobby volunteered. “I get off on watching old dudes bulge out and get all hot and horny.”
The man might have cast a glance at the two young men in passionate embrace on the couch, or he may not have. He simply said, “Thank you, sir.” As Frazz stepped off the platform, and he cast his wizened gaze at Chuck’s naked form. “Would you care to be next?”
Chuck shrugged and rose to his full height, 6 feet 4 inches of solid muscular beauty. “You said he knows…?” Michael nodded. Chuck smiled one of his sideways grins and was suddenly swelling out and up, growing more mass and gaining a couple more inches in height before he stepped upon the dais, the epitome of masculine sexuality. “Just wanted to put my best foot forward. So to speak.”
“I’d say that’s more than a foot, Chucker,” Frazz commented with a leer at Chuck’s substantial appendage.
The man was looking at Chuck’s fat cock as well. It was almost hard not to. “Sir, if I may suggest?”
Chuck folded his arms across his chest. The muscle wrestled for room. “Yeah?”
The man touched Chuck’s cock lightly with the eraser of his pencil. “This will make the trousers drape somewhat incorrectly. We could alleviate that somewhat with the correct under garments, but you don’t strike me as the type of man who appreciates a pair of BVDs.”
Chuck grunted, looking down at his colossus. “It’s too big, is what you’re saying.”
“One would never wish to adversely comment on sir’s appreciable gifts, and I can, of course, accommodate sir’s natural assets if necessary. I am only advising you that such a, you’ll pardon me for saying, preponderance of material will cause sir’s trousers to… balloon.”
“Balloon?”
“Even with three or four pleats, I’m afraid sir would be… uncomfortable.”
“So, what you’re saying is that my cock is too big.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“How big would you suggest?”
The tailor, without hesitation, applied one end of his measuring tape to the root of Chuck’s prick and extended it down its considerable length, peering through his thick spectacles at the number at the tip. “I should think if sir reduced his manhood to ten inches?”
Chuck leaned over slightly to see what the tape showed at present. “Man, you want me to lose five inches?”
The man smiled slimly. “Five and one-half. Only if sir wishes, of course.”
“Say when,” Chuck sighed, and his cock retreated up the tape until the man said, “Perfect, sir.”
“Anything else I need to adjust?”
The man looked up across Chuck’s formidable dimensions. “No, sir. I do beg your pardon.” He looked at Michael. “My understanding was that sir’s clothing should allow him to pass with more finesse among the general public. My suggestion in this area,” he said, glancing back at the majestic beauty of Chuck’s perfect cock, “is merely to alleviate some rather pointed attention, no pun intended.”
Michael smiled. “Quite right, Jenkins. Chuck, we’ll make you something you’ll enjoy with all your inches if you prefer.”
“I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing for a second longer than necessary.” He looked at the tailor. “No offense.”
“None taken sir. I quite understand.”
Chuck leaned down and glanced at Frazz before he whispered. “Jenkins, lemme know if any of my measurements are smaller than that black dudes so I can, you know, make an adjustment here or there.”
Jenkins smiled slimly. “Of course, sir, though if my eyes don’t deceive me you have nothing at all to worry about.” His smile grew slightly larger. “Let’s make it twelve inches.”
“I could kiss you.”
“Plenty of time for that later. Now then, please raise your right arm?”