It’s a relief to know that my chastity belt can recognize what’s going on, if belatedly, and I’m not in danger of literally crushing myself.

Still, any idle fantasies I might have harbored about whispering, “The sky is red, water is dry” to myself in my room, just to see what it feels like to be comically well-endowed, evaporate within hours of bearing the curse.

The smallest of fibs add up shockingly quickly.

After just one day of telling teachers that I finished the reading, telling a signature-collector in the quad that I’m late for class, telling the cashier at the corner store that I already know all about their loyalty program, and a handful of other tiny moments that I wouldn’t normally think twice about, I’m already sporting a good ten inches when erect, and even when I’m not, I look like I am. My belt seems to have decided to reshape itself to hold my cock in a continuously upright position, rather than grapple with holding me down through each fit of swelling.

Between the possibility of Free Play with Ruby hanging over my head, and wanting to avoid the embarrassment of explaining the project to more people than necessary, I quickly learn to watch my words very carefully.

Ruby keeps me on a short leash while we monitor and document the spell’s effects. Not quite as literal a leash as a few of the other pairs from our class I see wandering around campus, but short nonetheless.

We eat each meal together, and at night, she takes me back to her dorm and pushes the two beds together so that we can cuddle, steel pressed against steel.

Every hour, on the hour, she asks if I’ve been in secret contact with Miranda. And every hour, I answer no, and marvel a little at myself for having gotten through the previous hour all on my own.

In between, there are other questions of all sorts.

What’s my favorite color?

Lavender.

Why did I choose the College of Locks and Keys?

Because I thought it would be easy for me.

Why did I decide to study magic at all?

Because magic is fucking cool.

My cock forces another half inch of growth at that one, even though magic is fucking cool. Maybe if I’d left off the “because,” I could have gotten away with that one.

Ruby makes me answer again.

I study magic because I feel fucking powerless.

The curse gives no response. Ruby pauses to eye me warily for a moment, before deciding to spoon me and stroke my hair in silence.

On day two of the curse, Ruby invites me to go with her to watch a one-man show in the performing arts building’s shoebox theater, and of course, I agree.

It feels surreally normal, sitting side-by-side with Ruby in the cramped folding seats, sharing a box of Red Vines and waiting to see a show, and I realize it’s the first really date-like thing we’ve ever done together.

Ruby asks me about my theatrical knowledge (it’s limited), and points out all of her theater friends to me by name as some of them run back and forth preparing the set, and others file into the rows behind us in the audience.

Not very many of them, though. That’s the first clue I get to what this is all about. I may not have the most experience, but I’m pretty sure this theater is unusually sparsely filled, even for a small college performance on a Friday night.

The lights flicker, then fade out, leaving only a spotlight in the center of the stage.

“Please welcome… Jenson Malone!” a voice prompts us over the room’s speakers.

Ruby bursts into applause, whistles, and shouts, “You’ve got this, Jenson!”

I match the vigor of my claps to hers, even though the ten or so people around us offer only a light patter.

“Yes, thank you, that’s me!” says the same voice, as its owner swaggers onto the stage.

Jenson Malone is a tall, narrowly built guy with a scraggly goatee and a layer of stringy, veiny muscle covering his arms. His tight t-shirt reveals that the muscle does not extend any lower than his chest, almost as if the top quarter of his body was transplanted from someone else.

Ruby whistles again, and he clears his throat and says, “Um, yeah…” as if the tribute of attention he just requested has suddenly made him uncomfortable.

He clears his throat again.

“So, uh, I’m going to start off by taking you back about five years in time, to something that happened to me in my first year of high school. There was this big willow tree in my parents’ back yard back then, and my cat, his name was Turnip, would always go out and climb to the top of it when it was time for us to give him his eardrops. So, one day, my mom gets fed up with always having to climb up after him, and she tells my dad to cut down the tree. And so, I tell them both, I think that’s an overreaction. I mean, the tree keeps the yard shady and cool in the summer. I should also probably mention that I’d just started reading for fun at this point in my life. I guess I’d just never really found the right books before….”

I wait for him to get to the point, and an hour and a half later, I’m still waiting. I don’t think he’s made eye contact with a single person in the audience since he first walked onstage. Occasionally, he asks for a specific reaction, like, “Everybody give me an ‘Awww’!” and points the microphone at us like it’s a fireplace poker that will protect him from having to handle us directly.

But if we’re not loud enough, he makes us do it again.

The curse seems to have decided that these wordless sounds count as half-lies, when they express feelings that I’m not having. My length creeps upward by degrees each time Jenson asks us for them. Once, I try to get away with just lip-syncing to everyone else’s responses, but this apparently counts as a lie and a half.

My pants are stretched so tight that I can feel stitches popping when I adjust position.

“…So, anyway, that’s the story of how I talked my brother into founding the South Pevelina Biennial Pet Olympics, thank you and goodnight!”

The end comes so abruptly that I can’t believe I’m really that lucky. I’m sure for a moment that Jenson’s about to make us beg him to stay, and that he will, for at least another hour, or until I accidentally make a scene and distract everyone.

But Ruby claps, others follow hazily along, and Jenson takes a quick bow and scurries backstage.

“Come on,” Ruby grabs my hand and tugs me purposefully toward the door. “I want you to meet him.”

“Oh… that’s okay,” I say, trying to adjust my waistband to better hide the current shape of my belt.

“It’s no trouble, he’ll be thrilled!” says Ruby.

She leads the way down the hall and knocks on one of the dressing room doors.

“Jenson?”

“Ruby!” Jenson throws the door open and wraps her in an immediate hug. “Thank you so much for coming! I was really worried I’d be playing to an empty house there for a bit.”

“I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” says Ruby. “I think that was your best run yet.”

“Really?” says Jenson. “It wasn’t too stiff? It felt stiff.”

“No!” Ruby says, and extracts herself from the hug to turn to me. “Right, Nathan? What did you think? This is my… this is Nathan,” she introduces me.

“Hi, Nathan.” Jenson gives my hand a shake that both begins and ends without warning.

“Hi,” I say.

He’s looking at me, still expecting an answer about what I thought.

I search desperately for true things to say.

“I thought it was… impressive, to be able to remember that whole thing without any reminders. I mean, in a regular play, you’d have, like, a series of queues, right? So, you could memorize your part in smaller pieces, without having to remember the order of them all alone.”

“Thanks,” says Jenson. “But memorization’s the boring part! What did you think of the meat of it?”

“Well….” I’m sweating. The erection that’s been coming and going all evening, with every request for cheers, is present and tired and tender. A few weak pulses run through it, rallying for the next violent expansion. “I thought it was an interesting choice, doing a one-man show, with minimal audience participation, at a school for the magic of interpersonal chemistry.”

Ruby’s face makes the shape of a silent laugh, and a silent “ooh,” before she covers her mouth with a hand.

“Oh. Well… yeah,” says Jenson, shuffling his feet. “That was definitely… definitely part of the point. I kinda wanted to take a break from the standard classwork, to do something where I didn’t have to count on anyone but myself.”

“Good show, everybody!” one of the lighting technicians Ruby pointed out to me earlier shouts in the hallway behind us, hugging one of her friends. “The timing on the thunderclap was on point tonight!”

Ruby adds a second hand to the task of covering her mouth.

“Anyway, good to meet you, thanks for coming,” says Jenson.

A stale breath finally exits my lungs. I’m in the clear.

“Yeah, you too, it was great,” I say without thinking.

All at once, every drop of blood in my body seems to rush into the tube of my belt, making it feel brutally tight for a moment, before it accepts that it must expand, hard and fast.

The sound of my zipper failing echoes through the whole hall, audible even over the excited after-action chatter of the tech crew.

This is no half-truth. It’s two bald-faced lies in the space of six words, and the curse’s punishment for me is proportionately direct.

Jenson turns back toward us, and watches in stunned confusion as my steel-clad erection nearly doubles in size before his eyes.

“Sorry,” I tell him, which turns out to be a bad idea.

Another crushing burst of expansion makes me lightheaded, and forces me to steady myself against the wall while I contemplate how un-sorry I actually am for any of the things I’ve said tonight.

Ruby’s leaning against the wall now too, but it’s a fit of silent giggles that’s nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Don’t… don’t mind him,” she gasps at Jenson, wiping her eyes. “He’s under a curse.”

“…Right,” says Jenson, reaching back into the dressing room to pull a bag over his shoulder. “Take it easy, Ruby.”

Ruby puts an arm around me as we watch him go, and ruffles my hair.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I…” I catch myself before I can speak out of habit, and remind myself that the curse isn’t over yet. “I’m so embarrassed and horny.”

The words don’t feel eloquent in my mouth, but they’re apparently accurate enough to avoid piling on to my condition.

“Good,” says Ruby. “That’s what I was going for.”

I wrap my hands around the more than two-foot steel shaft now sticking up out of my chastity belt. There’s no way to hide this on the way back to her place or mine. And even though it feels so hard and sensitive, the base of the tube is fixed in place on my pelvis too firmly for me to thrust into it at all. I can barely even feel the warmth of my own hands radiating through.

“I didn’t come here planning to insult your friend,” I say, leaning into the embarrassment, for a momentary distraction from the horniness.

“Well, friend is actually kind of a generous word,” Ruby admits. “Jenson’s not the worst, but he is the worst to collab with. Last time we had to do a stunt scene together, he dropped me from fifteen feet up, and then got all defensive and said it was because I made him nervous.”

“So, you wanted me to insult him?” I ask.

“I wanted someone to call him out just a little,” says Ruby. “And after the way you helped me with Oakley… it just seemed to line up.”

I let out a breathy chuckle of relief. “You could have just told me that, you know.”

“Oh, I could have been honest and transparent with you about how I felt and what I was up to?” she tosses back at me, quick as a whip. “What a concept.”

I have nothing to say to that.

“Come on,” she says, leading me down the hall to the exit. “Just one more night to go.”

The campus is dark and thankfully quiet. We head back to Ruby’s dorm again, and she puts on a stream of some standup comedian she likes. A pallet cleanse, she says, after Jenson’s show. I don’t understand half the references the comedian makes, but her timing is impeccable, and even though she’s not a magic-user, you can feel the sparks fly between her and her audience.

Ruby and I spoon under one blanket, with me behind her, my oversized erection tube resting between her legs. My erection comes and goes. It’s hard to lose it completely like this, partly because of Ruby’s body pressed against me, her hand holding mine between her breasts, and partly because whenever my cock begins to retract down the steel tube, the friction of that movement gives it false hope, and it starts to harden again.

“There’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me,” Ruby whispers.

“Anythi— oh, fuck,” I groan, as another expansion takes me.

Ruby giggles. “It’s like every other word you say is a lie, isn’t it? And you didn’t even realize it?”

“Just tell me the favor,” I moan, as the steel stretches another inch or so, and my blood pressure re-stabilizes.

Ruby leans off the side of the bed to rummage in a box of school supplies, and pulls out a roll of masking tape.

“When the belts unlock in the morning, I want you to leave yours on until I tell you to take it off,” she says.

I try to read what she’s got in mind, but I’m still a beginner at decoding her dom side. The “until” part of her suggestion sounds promising.

“I don’t suppose I count as being able to fit inside you at this point, do I?” I ask, reaching down to hold the base of my current ridiculous length.

In my defense for even asking, I’ve only grown in length, not width. Does a Red Vine “fit” inside a peach ring? It’s kind of open to interpretation.

Ruby strokes the metal thoughtfully. “We’ll see. Can I keep you locked up for now?”

I agree, and Ruby methodically begins unrolling pieces of masking tape, tearing each one to size with her teeth, and wrapping them around the locking mechanisms on either side of my belt to hold them closed. She completes her work by signing it in purple marker and planting a kiss on top. One on each of my hips.

#

Sleep is weird, with my dick and its protection blocking me like a kickstand every time I try to roll onto my stomach, and my nerves get me up early.

I go take a shower and clean myself up as well as I can before Ruby’s even awake. I crawl back into bed right as she’s stirring, and she nuzzles me for a few sleepy minutes before telling me to wait for her while she goes to take care of her own morning routine.

I lie on my back, my chastity belt making an absurd tent of the blanket, while I wonder what she has in store for me now. How many more ways has she come up with to poke at my honest person mask, and expose it as an illusion? Are we going to play poker? Truth or dare? In the twilight haze of morning, I’m almost convinced she’s going to set me up to interview for some incredibly prestigious internship, or maybe even introduce me to her parents. I’m not going to be able to stand upright without tipping over by the time this day ends, I’m sure of it.

But if that’s the case, so be it.

While she’s in the bathroom, I feel the scheduled click of my belt releasing, leaving only the tape to hold it closed. It’s Free Play Day, officially.

I don’t even consider tearing through the tape. I agreed to submit to Ruby’s project idea. I’m lucky to be here, I have no illusions about that. I was lucky to be her partner even before I fucked it up. Whatever she asks of me now, I intend to see it through.

She appears in the doorway in a lacy red negligee, her own chastity belt already gone, her fiery red pubic hair visible through the sheer fabric.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she says.

Her voice is soft, entirely her own, but focused in a way that pins me thrillingly in place. Not that I was planning on going anywhere.

“I’m going to fuck you, if you’ll let me,” she says.

“Yes,” I answer immediately. “Of course—”

“But,” she continues, “your belt stays on. Honestly, I’m not sure it’s even safe to remove it right now.” A faint hint of mischief crosses her face, but does not remove its earnestness. “Humans aren’t built to have penises upwards of thirty inches long. For all I know, it might snap if you try to use it without the extra structural support the belt is giving you.”

“So, does that mean I’m stuck like this forever?” I ask, harnessing her playfulness to keep myself calm.

Permanent bodily changes may be super advanced magic, but so are a lot of the things Ruby can do within her particular specialties.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say forever,” says Ruby, stepping up onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll think of a solution before forever happens. But in the meantime….”

I toss the blanket off of myself. “I’m all yours.”

“That’s good to hear,” says Ruby, stepping one foot over me and crouching down over my chest. She grabs the smooth cap at the end of my belt’s extended tube, and rubs her pussy against it.

My cock, currently at rest, rushes to fill all the empty space and meet her there.

“Say it again,” says Ruby. “And remember, if Miranda is involved in this moment in any way, you will be lying.”

“I’m all yours,” I repeat without hesitation.

I don’t grow. Or, rather, I continue growing at a normal rate, hardening to match my most recent full length, and no more.

Ruby slides her way down onto the capped steel pipe with a moan.

The head of my cock is pressing hard against the inside of that cap, so I’m definitely inside her. Technically. But I can’t feel her at all.

Maybe there’s a faint hint of warmth and humidity coming through the narrow slit in the cap, but it could just as easily be wishful thinking.

Ruby bobs up and down on the end, grabbing a windowsill for leverage to support her crouching position. The six or seven inches she can take in don’t allow her to get anywhere close to sitting on my hips.

She seems pleased enough with the effect, however, in spite of the apparent awkwardness of the position.

“Oh gods, yes,” she sighs, circling her clit lightly with one finger while she drops herself down, down, down onto the magical metal phallus that surrounds my real one. “Are you as hard on the inside as you are on the outside right now?”

“Y—” I stop myself and think out the technicalities before speaking. “I’m about as hard as the real thing can get, I think.”

“Good,” says Ruby. “I’d hate for you to be bored.”

“Yeah, bored isn’t a word I’d use,” I say.

She laughs softly. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do this, you know.”

“What, fit it in?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure I could enjoy not letting you enjoy me.”

“Well bad news there,” I say. “I’m not not enjoying this.”

She glances down in anticipation of a growth spurt, and blushes slightly when it doesn’t happen. Her attention refocuses on me in less than a second.

“But you could be enjoying it more,” she says.

“Of course,” I concede.

“I’m being so selfish right now,” she says, her voice lightly taunting, though I’m not sure if she’s taunting me or herself. “Taking what I want, without immediately repaying you in any and every way I can think of.”

“I think I like you being a little selfish,” I say. “Does that make you feel better or worse?”

“It makes me…” she thinks for a moment, then laughs. “You just had to make it even more confusing, didn’t you?”

“I’d say I’m sorry,” I say, “But I don’t want to push you even farther away from me.”

“Oh, this distance bothers you?” she asks, lifting her hand briefly from her clit to touch my chest. She really has to reach to do it.

“A little,” I say.

“All those lies made it pretty hard for us to get close, didn’t they?”

“I get the point,” I say, and Ruby smiles down at the lack of growth again.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s see if we can fix it.”

She wraps her hand around the base of the tube.

“Guarantor of honesty,” she says. “I hereby charge you to mark honest words, as you would lies, but in reverse.”

I wrap my hand around hers, assisting with the shift of magic that follows her words.

“Say something true,” she says.

“I love you,” I say.

Her eyes widen, and I feel mine do the same, as my erection shrinks several rapid inches, while losing none of its firmness or sensitivity. The belt catches up shortly afterward, lowering Ruby that much closer to me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” I say. “It just came out.”

More magical shrinkage follows this addendum.

“It’s okay,” says Ruby. “I think I feel the same…. Say something else.”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” I tell her. “And the very first time I talked to you, I knew you could hurt me. I didn’t think you’d want to, but you could. And I think I kind of tried to turn my crush on you into something dirty and shallow, so that it wouldn’t be so scary.”

I’ve shrunk to a still ungainly but nonmagically possible length now, a little more than a foot.

“Can I have both?” Ruby asks.

“Both what?”

“Beautiful and dirty,” she says. “Can I have the version of you who desperately wants to fuck me, and the version who loves me enough to not degrade me to his friends?”

“They’re yours,” I say. “We’re yours, I’m yours.”

“Would you rather finish me right now, or finish yourself?” Ruby asks,

“If I had to choose? You,” I say.

One more shrinking burst finally brings us as close as we can physically get, not counting the steel sheath separating us. Ruby leans down to throw her arms around me, kisses me, and thrusts down harder, rubbing her clit directly on the flat steel surface that extends above the tube, covering the rest of my pelvis.

She cries out, her whole body shudders, and though I can’t feel it, I know the warm walls of her vagina are contracting around me.

“Oh, fuck,” she pants, as she slowly separates from me. “Oh, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I say, and my cock has a twinging fit in its prison, as the magic tries to detangle the technicalities of that.

Before it can, Ruby wraps her hand around it and says, “I release you.”

There’s a bidirectional rush of magic, as everything exchanged between us in the curse squeezes back along the thread to where it came from.

With a tug, she breaks the masking tape and helps me free myself.

“Come here, come closer,” she rushes me, naked, into her.

I barely make it inside before the warm, wet contact sets off the pent-up pressure, and I join her in gasping and babbling gratitude.

***

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