T R A D E

I discovered my strange mutation—at least that's what I think it is, a mutation—the summer I turned 24.

I knew that I was gifted before that. I had this strange way of knowing things about people I'd just met. Not their lives or their secrets, but their bodies. From the moment I got to know someone, I just knew everything. If that person still had an appendix, the number of hairs on his body, how healthy he was, how heavy, how smart, how strong, how big. Think about it for a second. Think about the possibilities. You get it.

But I came to know that this wasn't actually all I could do. Lucky me.

See, I discovered that all I had to do was to touch that person, skin to skin. If I just touched their shirt or their hair, it didn’t work. And then I could see—feel, really—their stats. I could see them as long as I could see the person. Pretty easy rule.

All that wasn't particularly exciting. It was a nice party trick, but not very useful in daily life. Until I discovered how to trade, and man, that's when my life really started. These are my stories…

Episode 1

+++THE BEGINNING+++

Standing in front of the urinal I could feel the bass of the club in my bones. I was drunk as fuck and kind of swaying as I peed when another dude entered the bathroom, the music becoming louder for a second and immediately fading.

It was that fuckhead. He was even drunker than me, and he had been bothering my friends and me the whole evening. It was our night out to dance and have fun, but he had been ruining it by yelling nonsense in our ears, touching my friends. I had told him to fuck off, but he didn't care, and security didn’t give a fuck either. He was a real-life troll, being shitty just because it was fun for him.

"Oh, look, it’s Mister Gofuckyourself," he mumbled as he positioned himself at the urinal next to mine. Before unzipping, he slapped my back, and at that exact moment my life changed.

Part of his index finger brushed against the part of my neck that wasn't covered by my t-shirt, so I could see his stats, but after 24 years that wasn’t that special to me anymore, and I was pretty pissed so I ignored it.

He took out his average dick and started to piss.

"You should relax, my friend. We're all just here to have some fun, and you, my friend—"

"Don't call me friend, asshole," I yelled as I zipped my pants.

He started laughing because he was because making me furious, which was all he’d wanted.

I could still see his stats because I was looking at him, and I don't know why I had the thought I did at that moment, but that was what made the magic begin. My right hand started to glow slightly blue around the edges (only visible to me, I found out later). I was bringing my hand closer to my eyes to see if it was for real or just the alcohol, when the blue light flew across the room in the form of a little ball of light, passed through the still-peeing asshole at the urinal and came back to my hand. It all took just a second and it was over. He hadn’t noticed anything.

I blinked once or twice, and then went to wash my hands. At that moment, the sensation began inside my pants. I could feel the blood pumping inside my dick, and then it started to grow. I watched my own crotch in the mirror and could see it expanding outward. Without hesitation, I touched my left forearm so I could see my own stats. My cock was soft and it was 9 1/4 inches long. I grabbed my junk and I could feel the new mass of flesh moving inside my jeans.

I heard a moan from the urinal, and I glanced back into the other room. Asshole was looking down, his whole body shaking. He zipped and left the toilet running, his face as white as the tiled walls. Escaping, he brushed my arm and I could see that he had only 1.5'' of cock left. It took a split second for me to realize I had most of his dick's length inside my pants.

I left the bathroom with the new weight pulling at my groin, and I felt even drunker than before. My newly engorged cock was crammed inside my briefs and rubbing vigorously against my hairy thighs. I wanted to try it again on the dance floor where no one was watching, to make sure this power wasn't a one-time-only thing, but there were too many people. I was touching a different guy every two seconds and I couldn't concentrate. So I went to the bar and waited next to a man with a nice 7-incher. He wasn't naked—I just touched his elbow without him noticing.

I wished for two inches of his dick, but nothing happened. The blue light didn’t appear, and my brain was too drunk to remember what my thought process had been in the bathroom. Which pissed me off enough to have a thought I would soon regret, drunk as I was: "Man, I would give my balls for some of that dick."

My hand began to glow, and I swear I didn't want to raise it but it happened anyway. It slipped, you could say.

He just stood there casually drinking his gin and tonic as his dick lost some of its size and a new set of balls, slightly smaller than his originals, grew inside his sack. He just rearranged his package, but couldn't really feel a difference through the fabric of his jeans.

I tried not to stare at him as I watched his stats, mouth agape. Four balls. A 5-inch cock. It had really worked, but how the fuck was that possible?

I spent the next few minutes trading little things back and forth. Of course, I started with my balls—I took them back and gave him an inch of his cock back in exchange. Then I went on to change a few little things, but nothing major. It first occurred to me that I might be overdoing it when I realized I had taken 6'' of his 7'' cock and he had gotten a bit hefty with fat from my belly. Not very nice, I know.

While I had a nice thick 11'' cock stuffed inside my pants, he had nothing but a slightly bigger belly. As I watched, he looked down, suddenly noticing his shirt, which was fitting a bit too well around the hips, and the total absence of the bulge he’d had on display a minute before. I noticed sweat becoming visible on his forehead, and before he could touch his junk, I traded back in panic.

That hadn’t been very nice. I was still drunk and I wanted to apologize, and the only way I could think of to do it was to give him a furtive gift.

I started walking through the club, touching people here and there, trading only very small amounts that I hoped nobody would miss. I passed off some freckles and hairs and a scar on my knee I’d had since I was a child. It took me some time to find the guy from the bar again, and when I did it was almost too late; he was already leaving with his girlfriend. But as he picked up his jacket, I managed to touch his forearm. I was kind of sad to lose a big chunk of my newly enhanced dick, but I had all the time in the world to build it back up again. As the trade was working, I watched him uncomfortably shifting his weight from one leg to the other. I could barely see his tightening crotch, but I could feel the numbers changing. 8 inches, 8.5 inches, 9 inches. His fists clenched on the counter. 9.5 inches.

He rearranged his junk and looked down in shock.

"What, baby?" his beautiful girlfriend wanted to know.

"Nothing," he said. 10 inches. "Fuck…mm…nothing."

At the end, I took some fat from his hips and belly, too, and gave him a bit of size from my balls. I watched him leaving with an insane bulge and a marvelous grin on his face. I bet he wasted no time showing her his new monster.

Meanwhile, I couldn't have been happier thinking about all the things I could do with my newfound talent.

End of this chapter

If you have wishes for the following installments you can write them in the comments. I want to create a more open format for this story. There will be no coherent story but short stories for immediate effect