Let's Compare? Ch. 01

This one's a custom story ordered by a lovely reader who knew exactly what they wanted. Big focus on measuring, size comparison, and the like. Had a lot of fun writing this. Do enjoy.

Note: This story contains trans/shemale content.

All the characters in this story are above the age of 18.

It was an overcast evening, the kind that threatened to rain, but didn't. I'm sure the weather outside the house would've been lovely: cool, breezy. Though I wouldn't actually know. Because I was sitting on my bedroom desk, hunched over my laptop. My presentation was due tomorrow.

I thought about violently smashing my head against the desk and concluded that it would still feel a lot better than staring at the empty PowerPoint before me. That blinking text cursor on that blank slide was the cause of a lot of my nightmares.

Endless PPTs and Excel Sheets. The story of my life so far. Argh. I shut the lid of my laptop with maybe a little more force than necessary, but it felt strangely comforting. That thud sounded more like no more of this bullshit to me. It was the office laptop anyway.

I turned my chair from the desk to face my bed. I saw my solace lying on it, asleep. A solace so beautiful that even after four years of our marriage, I still didn't get why she married me.

She usually never sleeps during this hour, but the day had been especially tiring for her.

Just this evening, my boss decided to 'surprise' me with a visit. On a Sunday. He often did that. "Builds team chemistry," he used to say, though he never once visited with a 'team'. Always alone.

To put it simply, he just came to ogle Chloe and taste the exceptional delicacies she prepared. Kind of understandable, really. But still creepy. Today, Chloe had quickly worked up an impromptu extravagant lasagna for him along with a whole array of sides. She knew that my life at the office would be happy if Oliver was happy. Gosh, I love her so much.

Oliver was just a boy, barely 20, but he still somehow outranked me. Fucking nepo baby. It even felt weird referring to him as a 'boy'. He was strangely feminine. Many of my colleagues even dubbed him a 'femboy', or whatever tiny, effeminate things like him were called.

Ah. Fuck him.

I turned my attention to Chloe again. I saw her silk negligee-clad chest heave in her slumber, her long, blonde hair like a lush penumbra of gold around her head. How did I ever bag a woman like this? Chloe's angelic face, those ice blue eyes, and her statuesque, slender physique—she was basically built for the runway.

And yet there she was. Sleeping on my bed. I felt a sudden surge of glee inside and smiled like an idiot at my achievement. Every day I spent with Chloe felt just like the first. I could gladly spend a thousand lifetimes working like a slave—much like right now—just to spend one with her.

My admiration of my sleeping wife was interrupted by a couple of knocks on our front door.

Motherfucker. Again? Already ruining my day once wasn't enough for him?

I sighed the bleakest of sighs, but I knew I had to get up... I had a job to keep and the facade of an 'ideal employee' to maintain.

As I walked to the entrance, I plastered that eternal corporate smile on my face that screamed: Oh hel-lo, Oliver. I must thank my lucky stars today. Getting to indulge in your company twice on a Sunday? I feel like I'm the star-employee-of-the-month already. *insert forced corporate laughter here*

Oliver was a guy who was barely a couple of fingers taller than five feet. So when I opened the door, I instinctively looked down. And I saw that Oliver had grown breasts. Huh?

Breasts?

I shook my head to break out of my 'employee' mode.

I saw a set of deep, chestnut-brown eyes slightly looking up at me. My lips naturally curled into a smile, the genuine one. Anything that wasn't Oliver made me smile.

The woman's left hand gripped a roller suitcase beside her, and her right one held a small, chained handbag. I don't know why I noticed it, but the way she held it to cover the front of her hip kind of seemed odd. Almost as if she was deliberately hiding something.

The fuck? Am I really pondering over the way a woman holds her handbag? Heh. What am I now, one of those online body language experts?

"Yes?" I asked.

A loud gust of wind blew in our direction, and her mahogany hair danced so graciously, unable to resist the urging of the wind. When the gust settled, she brushed the windblown strands from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

This so simple of an action immediately gave the woman a comfy 'girl-next-door' kind of vibe to me. Like that one random cashier girl that once smiled at you and you still can't forget.

She wore a brown form-fitting cropped t-shirt with a large XXXL logo printed on it. The logo was stretched taut across her—though modestly covered—immense bust. Her loose, wide-leg beige pants were high-rise but failed to cover a thin white strip of her slim waist.

Her lips parted, "I'm looking for Chloe? Chloe Hart? Do I have the right address?" she asked, her smile innocent and unsure.

Ah, one of Chloe's friends. "It's Winslow now," I corrected her, proudly showing off the ring on my finger. I introduced myself, "I'm James. Chloe's worse half."

A small cloud of confusion cast on her face. She quickly eyed me from head to toe, and I think I saw her smile dip a little as she said, "I can certainly see that."

Hm? It was a joke... right? At least I played it off like one. "Shh. Hurts a little when someone actually agrees out loud."

I don't know if I was imagining things, but in just a fraction of a second, she picked up her smile again. "Oh, I was teasing. Call it punishment for not inviting me to the wedding."

Yeah, I must be imagining it. You can't fake a smile like that.

"Well, save your punishment for—"

"Lauren?" I heard a drowsy voice behind me. I turned. It was Chloe, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was always a light sleeper. "Is that really you?"

So her name was Lauren? A really pretty one. If I remember anything from the Latin class in my university (that I barely took for a month), the name Lauren had something to do with laurel trees, as in 'the one crowned with laurel'. Basically, what it meant was 'victorious'. And every bit 'victorious' she was wherever my eyes landed on her body.

She briskly made her way to the door and took a good look at the woman. "I thought I heard a familiar voice. It is you. Goddamn."

Chloe's purple silk negligee gleamed brightly in the moonlight when she stepped outside. Both women quickly embraced each other, years of distance bridged by just a tight hug. Too tight of a hug. Really tight. Tight, almost as if they were lovers. What am I thinking? They're both women here.

During their snug embrace, I noticed Lauren's large breasts almost absorbing Chloe's perkier ones. Lauren seemed almost a couple of inches taller than Chloe. And I felt a faint, useless pride at being a couple of inches taller than her. Heh. Strange thing, male ego.

"You've grown, Lauren. In two more ways than one," Chloe teased, eyeing Lauren's more than impressive chest.

"Some costly growth this is," she replied, holding up her own huge tits. They both laughed melodiously.

So they're fake? Damn. Would've never even crossed my mind.

There was a comfortable silence between them for a few moments. "You've become so beautiful, Lauren. You've finally become your true self, haven't you?" Chloe said with a certain warmth in her tone, looking directly into her eyes.

"Y-yeah..." Lauren's cheeks (understandably) bled red as if she were a high school girl again—the big blues of Chloe's eyes did that to you. But Lauren tried hard not to let it show by saying, "Though I'm afraid, I'm still Horsepower Lauren on the inside."

They both laughed again. What the fuck is Horsepower Lauren?

"Horsepower? You were a mechanic?" I couldn't help but address the absurdity.

Both women erupted into thunderous laughter for a good while.

"Oh, it's an inside joke, James," Chloe said, wiping the tears of their shared laughter. She elbowed Lauren lightly and shot her a sidelong look. "More like a rumor."

Lauren elbowed Chloe back, "More like a big rumor, you mean." Both of them tried to suppress a smile.

I think, in their minds, they were already catapulted back to their school time. Hence, the almost childish inside jokes.

"So, how long are you in town for? I see you're carrying a suitcase," Chloe inquired.

"About a week or so," Lauren said, tilting her hand in a so-so motion.

Chloe declared, not missing a beat, "You're staying with us until then."

Lauren shook her head slightly in protest. "I came here straight from the airport just to meet you, Chlo," she explained. "I didn't really mean to intru—"

"No, no. Nothing. I wanna hear absolutely nothing. You're staying with us and that's final," Chloe affirmed again, cutting her off.

Lauren smiled very nostalgically at Chloe. "Have I ever won against you?" She chuckled. "Okay, I'll stay."

Chloe caught Lauren in a momentary, unexpected hug. "Amazing," she chimed. "Had anything to eat?" she asked, gesturing for her to come inside.

"If you're cooking, I'm starving," she answered as she stepped inside.

"How about some leftover lasagna?" Chloe suggested, both of them walking abreast through the corridor.

"Abso-fucking-lutely, yes."

"I guess I'll have some lasagna, too. Didn't really eat much back then with the whole Oliver stuff and all," I said. But my words fell on two sets of deaf ears; they were already engrossed in their chat again, and I stood there alone, left to close the door.

— — —

We were at the dinner table, Lauren and Chloe sitting alongside, and I before them. All of us were shrouded by the amazing smell of reheated lasagna.

A tight green t-shirt and denim jeans. That's what Chloe had quickly changed into from her negligee. Each line of her sinewy body was traced on the snug fabric—not revealing anything while still revealing everything at the same time. Even in a t-shirt, my wife looked supermodel-ready. And tonight was the perfect time to learn more about the school life of my supermodel of a wife.

"So tell me, Lauren. What was Chloe like back in high school?" I asked, helping myself with a generous serving of the lasagna.

She replied, but not before eating a forkful of the Italian goodness on her plate, "Too hot for a guy like you to even think about approaching."

I just kept looking at her, dumbfounded. Was she mad at me for something? I had felt this same kind of hostility from her earlier at the entrance, too.

"Just joking. Joking," she added dismissively.

That wasn't a joke, that was a jab. I shot a silent, confused glance at Chloe, as in What's the matter with her? She smiled awkwardly.

I really wanted to confront Lauren, but Chloe's smile stopped me (not that awkward one, but in general). I didn't want to ruin her reunion. Yes, the woman was a little rude to me, but Chloe had been beaming like a child since the minute she arrived. And that's what mattered. I silently ate my food.

"So what do you do?" Chloe asked to fill the difficult silence.

"To put it not so simply, I sell very big houses for very big commissions. Luxury real estate," she smiled wryly. "When your favorite celebrity is selling his huge mansion, who's the one actually selling it?" She pointed both of her smug fingers at herself. "Yours truly."

"That's really wonderful, Lauren. You must meet celebrities almost daily, then?"

"Calm down, Chlo. Of course, I don't meet them on the daily. Mostly, it's their managers I deal with. But yeah, every once in a while, I do meet some recognizable names."

"Wow. It's almost unbelievable. Who's been your favorite one so far? I know some of them aren't as nice in real life," Chloe said, elbow on the table, her delicate, beautiful face resting in her hand. Her eyes looked even bigger than usual.

Chloe was practically swooning over her profession. Women had a thing for celebrities. But Lauren did have an impressive job, far more than mine. I was just Employee ID 638412, who made spreadsheets for a living, even though I was a senior developer on paper. Fuck Oliver.

"You," Lauren answered the question, but didn't look at the one who had asked it. She was just awkwardly making circles in the lasagna with her fork.

"Awww," Chloe cooed sweetly. "So this is how you sell houses. By sweet-talking your client?"

Lauren tapped back into her normal, playful self and quipped, "You weren't supposed to catch that, Chlo. Trade secrets."

"Trust me, Lauren. You had no secrets back then... I'd heard a lot in school," Chloe said, her tone bashful. Now it was her turn to make circles in her lasagna.

This is what they call 'girl talk,' right? If Lauren hadn't been a woman, I would've almost thought they were flirting. And if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that my wife isn't a lesbian.

"Well, that's exactly why they called me Horsepower Lauren, didn't they? Cuz there were no secrets."

Again with that Horsepower bullshit. We're grown adults here, not teenagers. I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What does that even mean, Lauren?" It felt like an eternity before I finally took part in the conversation again.

Lauren gulped and tried to stifle her smirk. No, both of them were trying not to smile. My question couldn't have been this funny.

"Like your lovely wife mentioned earlier, James. It was just a..." She let out a snicker, "big rumor."

"Well, enough about horsepower and rumors. I've actually got a serious question," Chloe said, swallowing her smile. "Of course, I've so excitedly asked you to stay with us and all, but I'm afraid our spare room is very cramped. I doubt you'll even fit in there."

And just like that, I was ignored. Again.

Lauren smiled and winked. "That's the thing, Chlo. I always make it fit." Both of them laughed.

What is even going on? What are these ladies talking and laughing so much about?

"Though I'm sure your valiant, chivalrous husband will surely make the sacrifice to switch with me and sleep there," Lauren added. "Help a lady out, James?"

No. Fuck no. My bed is NOT up for grabs. You've been nothing but passively rude to me since the moment you showed up unannounced at our doorstep. Not to mention your Horsepower nonsense and the weird laughs you share with Chloe. Sleep on the street for all I care, give some homeless guys a nice set of tits to look at. I voiced the words in my head, but didn't let them come out—didn't want to make it difficult for Chloe.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give up my sleep, Lauren," I said as calmly as possible. "I've got work tomorrow."

"Oh, come on, James. Chloe and I have got loads and loads of things to catch up on. And one week is barely enough time. We've met after almost a decade. Sleeping in a small room for a few days is the least you could do for us. For your wife," Lauren said.

A master manipulator, she was. Couldn't have been in luxury real estate otherwise. But I think it was time for this too rude a guest to finally hear a piece of my mind, too. I'm sorry, Chloe. "Listen, Lauren. You wouldn't even be here if it w—"

"James..." Chloe said my name timidly. I looked at her. She tilted her head, and her big, blue eyes engulfed the whole of me. It was like an incantation. "... Please?" she urged softly.

I choked on my words. Chloe knows I can never refuse her—my love for her just doesn't allow me to. I had never really refused Chloe for anything ever, and I wasn't gonna make her feel dejected over a fucking bed. Even if it meant sleeping in that matchbox of a room or dealing with this friend of hers for a few days. At the end of the day, if Chloe is happy, James is happy. My wife's a queen and should be treated like one—with devotion and fealty.

"Okay..." I agreed, and night became day with how brightly Chloe smiled.

"Thanks, James," she chirped, squeezing my hand.

"... But only if she tells me what all this Horsepower shit is about," I added as a useless condition. I knew the trade was far from fair for me. But oh well, at least I was getting something in return, no matter how utterly pointless. Not to mention that word had annoyed the shit out of me this whole evening.

Lauren raised a single eyebrow in surprise. "They say don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

"Either screw what they say or go sleep in that cramped-ass room," I said firmly. The room really was small. "So tell me. Why did they call you Horsepower Lauren in high school?" Saying that stupidity from my own mouth was a lot more vexing than I thought.

"Your call," she confirmed. "Cuz it was hung like a horse, and packed enough power to make you neigh for a week. Kinda lame, yes. But accurate still. That was in high school, though. If they called it 'hung' back then, I'd love to hear what they'll call it now." She looked at Chloe then. "It has grown. Significantly."

Is she really talking about what I think she's talking about? Even her explanation needs an explanation to be coherent.

Chloe interjected, almost as if she didn't have any control over her, "Grown? How big is it now, then?"

Even my wife was messing with me now?

"Just a second, Chloe," I said, then turned to Lauren to confirm, "Might wanna expand on what this 'it' is?"

"Expand," she repeated and smirked. "The 'it' sure expands, alright."

What's up with this woman, going around in fucking circles?

"It means my cock, James. My cock," Lauren announced finally. "And Chlo, to answer your last question: Yes, it has indeed grown. The specifics we'll discuss later." She smirked.

Ah, go to hell. They're both fucking with me.

"Very well, fuck off then. Don't tell me," I snapped, annoyed. "I think I've had enough lasagna," I said as I grabbed my plate and got up from the table.

I started for the kitchen. Neither of them stopped me. Not even Chloe—she had an expression of peculiar fascination and intrigue written all over her face. Fuck their crude joke.

It was a relief that the kitchen and the dinner table were partitioned by a wall. I didn't want to see that woman anymore.

I turned on the faucet of the kitchen sink to wash my plate. For a brief moment, the steady hush of the flowing water felt weirdly comforting. But that moment was gone just as quickly. As soon as I put my plate under the water, I heard their conversation resume. I don't think they knew I was within earshot. I quickly turned the faucet off to hear more clearly. They had greatly reduced their tone, but I could still somewhat hear them.

"My goodness. I'd only heard that it was 9 inches during our high school days," I heard Chloe asking—almost whispering—casually as if asking for the time.

I see my wife is still committed to the act. Do they really expect me to believe that Lauren had a... you-know-what?

"So did a lot of people, babes." I heard a brief laugh.

"Still, I mean... 9 inches is a lot—not just for a high schooler, but for anyone," Chloe said, then took a little pause. "That rumor was true, wasn't it?"

"Well... I've never admitted this to anyone, but I can't lie to you, Chlo. To tell the truth, the rumor about it being 9 inches was kinda false," Lauren said. "It was actually a 9.5 incher. A hard-as-fuck 9.5 incher." She tittered deviously. "People tend to round numbers down when they aren't in their favor. Insecurities, you know?"

I didn't hear anything for a while. How long were they going to stretch this uncalled vulgarity for?

"You're... for real?"

"Bring a measuring tape right now."

I heard roaring laughter. This was really just a joke... right?

Did Lauren actually have a... cock? What are they called, shemales? But everything about Lauren simply screamed 'woman': from her pretty face, to her womanly figure, and to her gigan—er, I mean, womanly breasts. There was just no way she actually had a cock. It even felt weird thinking that she did.

Chloe lowered her voice even more now. "You know, I'd heard a lot of things about you during school. But even among everything, the rumors about your size always intrigued me the most. A high schooler this pretty with a 9-inch monster? I used to think."

This felt too real to be a joke now. Chloe, please stop this now.

"Why'd you never ask me about it then? I wasn't exactly hard to find—I literally sat next to you."

"I was... afraid, Lauren. How would you have felt if, out of the blue, your best friend asked you how big your thing was?"

"Now, when you put it like that, it kinda makes sense," Lauren said. "Speaking of sizes, though, how big's he?" she asked randomly.

"How big's who?" Chloe innocently inquired, completely oblivious to what she meant.

"Your cute, little hubby, Chlo," she clarified.

Silence.

A silence that was louder than any answer.

I'm not that small, Chloe, that you can't even answer. I've got a perfectly fine and average—

That was enough. I threw the still-dirty plate in the sink, and stomped my way back to the table.

As soon as I entered, Chloe shuffled in her seat nervously. Like I had caught her in the act of something unholy.

This wasn't a joke anymore. And even if it was, it had overstayed its welcome... much like Lauren. I couldn't take it anymore. The awkwardness was like a noose around my neck, but I was also so shaken that I only managed to say one thing.

"It's getting late, isn't it, babe?"

I know I should've said something else. Maybe something even to Lauren. Or ask her to fuck off. But hearing my wife talk about someone else's penis in detail wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this evening.

"Y-yes..." she said. "Let me get you your pillow and sheets."

Pillow? Sheets?

Oh yeah, almost forgot... Lauren was going to sleep next to Chloe this whole week.

— — —

I sat on the poolside lounge chair and was simply marveling at the irony: I had a whole pool in my house, but not a proper, human-sized spare room to sleep in. And sleeping on the sofa did nothing but fuck my back up.

So between the minuscule room, the back-fucking sofa, and the backyard pool, the winner was obvious. I wasn't gonna be able to sleep tonight anyway, not after hearing all that 'stuff' earlier this evening.

Chloe and Lauren were sleeping in my bedroom. The door was shut, I'd checked many times. On a few occasions, I even thought of barging in unannounced, but eventually decided against it—I wouldn't want Chloe to think I didn't trust her. Did I, though? But the urge to storm inside the room was too tempting. That's why I came to the pool.

I was flirting with the idea of jumping into the pool to cool off. But I knew I could cool off all I wanted; it wouldn't make me forget the ridiculousness of the evening.

My mind was in disarray at the prospect of Lauren actually having a dick between her legs. But it was a fact.

I shouldn't have second-guessed myself when I saw her at the door holding her handbag in front of her weirdly like that. Almost as if she was hiding something. Her crotch. Rather, her bulge?

I saw the moonlight reflect off the still water in the pool, the same moonlight under which Lauren had shown up on our doorstep. Tsk. Even though I had just met the woman earlier this evening, she was already in my head—every thought in my mind eventually led to her and her... thingy.

Even in this shitstorm of uncertainties, one question still nagged at me repeatedly—was she really that big? People love to exaggerate numbers. Moreover, I remember her saying it had 'grown' even more. Just the thought of a high school student blessed with a 9-inch endowment seemed ridiculous in itself. Well, 9.5 to be exact, but 9 inches still sounds absurd enough.

How big are 9 inches in real life anyway? I pulled out my phone from my shorts, Googled 'online ruler,' and clicked on the first link. I saw a digital ruler load on the website. I then quickly learned that my phone's screen height was exactly 6.26 inches—because that's where the ruler's markings hit the top edge of the screen. What the absolute fuck? It's bigger than my phone?

I had never measured my thing, but there was no way it was ever gonna measure up to 9 inches.

There's no way she's that big. I mean, just look at her face. Do you think a woman like that would have a full-blown cock down there? I don't think so.

I splayed my fingers and put my palm to my phone screen. My fingers exceeded the phone's length a little, but it was evident that even my spread-out hand wouldn't be as big as 9 inches.

And she said she was this big during her high school?!

Thinking pragmatically, my best guess was that Lauren sure had a dick, but it was nowhere near 9 inches, let alone 9.5. During my high school days, apparently every guy claimed he was 10+ inches just to get laid. Bullshit. I'd read somewhere that the probability of having a package larger than 9 inches was about 1 in 1000. It was the same with her. Yes. Just lying about her size to keep people talking about her. Yes, this certainly must be the case.

I reclined even further on the comfy chair and tried to enjoy the starry sky for once. It looked like someone had interspersed a black sheet of paper with tiny, gleaming pearls. It might be idiotic, but I really hoped for a shooting star—I had never seen one. But even if one did appear, what would I wish for? A bigger dick? For Lauren to go away? For Lauren to have a smaller dick? Why am I thinking about Lauren at all?!

Arghh. She's really in my head.

Another ominous thought hit me: Wasn't Chloe a bit too interested in Lauren's size?

My mind was already preoccupied with Lauren, but didn't Chloe seem a little suspicious too? Wanting Lauren to sleep with her, discussing her 'monster', and those flirty little exchanges they had.

I trusted her. I mean, I wanted to trust her. But when your wife is light years hotter than you, it's kind of impossible not to doubt her.

The burden of being the 'less attractive' one in the couple always weighed on me like the world itself. It was also the real, miserable reason I never refused any of Chloe's requests—I was too scared that if I did, she might find solace in someone else like I had found in her...

And something tells me, she won't have any difficulty finding a 'solace' for her.

But what about Lauren, huh? She thought it was just okay for her—a woman with a cock—to just visit her friend after a decade and suddenly demand to sleep in her room?

There was only one answer that surfaced to my mind: They were both kind of... interested in each other.

Even the thought pains me to no end.

I left the comfort of the poolside chair and stepped back inside.

I prepared a drink for myself and sat at the dinner table in the same chair. My—their—bedroom door was right in front of me. I was just eyeing the doorknob when it turned by itself.

Aww. Must be Chloe sneaking out to meet me. Heh, how foolish was I to even doubt her in the first place.

"I'm here, babe," I whispered, smiling inside.

The door opened fully. "Good for you, babe."

It was Lauren. Well, fuck me.

"What's this? Drinking alone? Even when your wife is just next door?" The sarcasm was like a knife.

Lauren took a few steps in my direction and sat at the table facing me. She was wearing a negligee—Chloe's negligee. Even though I didn't want to notice it, her tits were practically spilling out of it. The fabric clearly wasn't built for a person with assets as exceedingly large as Lauren's.

"Keep your snarky comments to yourself," I said, (forcefully) pulling my gaze back to my drink.

"Pfft. You should be the last person to advise me about keeping things to yourself. You couldn't even keep your wife to yourself." Her words stung all around my body. "She was practically begging you with those pretty eyes of hers to let me sleep there instead of you. Some husband."

Lauren was even more unhinged when Chloe wasn't around. It seemed like the drink in my hand was already coursing through her veins. Though she wasn't the slightest bit drunk, just revealing her true self at last.

Well, if she can speak her mind when Chloe's not around, so can I.

I took a deep breath, looked at her, remembered this evening, and didn't need any help to snap. "You got a bone to pick with me or something, Lauren? Mind you, you're in my house. Since the minute you arrived here, you've done nothing but incessantly act rude to me, flirt with my wife, and now finally sleeping in the same room as her. And if it's not any of that, you're constantly bragging about your 'amazing size' in one way or the other. And even if it's not that, there's always the Horsepower Lauren bullshit." I was out of breath, but it did feel good laying all that out finally.

"Oooh. The pup has a little bite to him," Lauren said in baby talk, then changed back to her domineering voice, "But you know why I came out here? To answer the question you asked me earlier. Yes, I'm benevolent like that."

I reminded her, "Benevolent, my ass. News flash: you've already answered the nonsense Horsepower question."

Lauren gave a soft laugh. "Now it's you who's stuck on the Horsepower bullshit." How come anything she says infuriates me this much? "I came to answer your initial question. About how Chlo was in high school. But I guess you don't deserve nice things after all." Lauren shrugged and put her hands on the table to get up.

"Wait!" I blurted out faster and more desperately than I would've liked. She stopped. "What exactly do you wanna tell me... Better yet, why?" I raised my concerns.

"I simply refrained from telling you back then, cuz Chlo was sitting there. Didn't wanna make her lose face," she said. "Honestly, I just want to see the look on your stupid face when you hear the truth." She snickered.

"Okay. Tell me then."

Lauren settled more comfortably on the chair and raised her eyebrows expectantly, "You wanna add something first?"

I got the gist. Reluctantly, I said, "Please, tell me, Lauren."

"Good pup." This fucking woman. "Okay, so during high school, your wife was..."

I inadvertently leaned in, not wanting to miss out on a single word. I really wanted to hear it. The question had actually been nagging at me for years: How did a girl as hot as Chloe spend her high school days? Simply put, how many guys did she f—

Ahem.

"... really a queen," she completed her sentence.

"She was a queen? Of course, she was. Have you taken a look at her? You came out at this hour to tell me this, Lauren?"

"An absolute size queen, that is. A true S-tier slut." Lauren softly laughed—softly yet brutally.

I heard the revelation, but it didn't gape as big a hole in my soul as I thought it would. I always had some doubts about Chloe's rather promiscuous past during her school years. And it wasn't even a matter of trusting Lauren's words. I just always kind of... knew.

But staying deluded had simply felt better.

I looked at my drink and swirled it without any real purpose.

Lauren didn't say anything for a while—whether it was for me to take a moment to collect my thoughts, or to let me smolder in my own discomfort, I did not know, but I appreciated the irony of it.

I downed the whole glass and slammed it on the table.

After some time, I put my eyes on hers and asked a question, my voice weighted, "Why are you here, Lauren?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "To tell you that your wife was a slut. Duh."

It was as if the alcohol gave me the ability to think coherently for the first time tonight. "No. Why are you here at all? You arriving at our home wasn't just a 'friendly visit,' was it? You clearly want something. Someone. My wife, most probably."

Lauren smirked slightly in surprise, her eyes wide. "So you do know how to put two and two together after all," she said. Then I heard a certain sobriety in her voice that was missing this whole night when she added, "I'm not here to 'want' Chlo. I'm here to 'claim' her." Lauren's words felt somber for once.

My words were slow, spaced out, morose. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, though, Lauren. I just..." Maybe it was the alcohol in me, but I chuckled. "... love that woman too much. Too much for my own good."

"You think you have a choice? Just look at where your wife made you sleep and where I'm sleeping." Lauren took an unexpected pause and looked down. She continued, her voice betraying a minute sliver of her emotions, "You don't know how long I've waited for this moment... I will take Chlo, take back what was rightfully mine. And have another drink in you if you fucking want, but don't make that boo-hoo I'm so sad face in front of me."

There's just no end to this woman, is it?

I eyed my empty glass, and my voice was loud, the loudest it had been this evening. "Just shut the fuck up for a second, will you?! Of course, I'm not aware of the specifics, but I know what kind of a past Chloe has had. And I'm willing to forgive her still—I already have. But what I'm not willing to do is let a motherfucking short-dicked he-she have her way and fuck my wife in my own house!"

I exhaled deeply after my crash out. I shouldn't have called her that he-she slur, though. That's not the kind of person I am. But it was hardly anything compared to what she had been spouting about Chloe.

I looked at her and saw two pits of furious, scorching fire instead of eyes. She was mad.

"What did you just call me?"

"I'm... sorry about that slur. Didn't really mean—"

" Short-dicked was it?"

"Hm? That's what you're pissed about?"

My words seemed to have hit a nerve. It was fun seeing her like this for once, though.

"Yep, I kinda overheard you and Chloe's conversation about you being... 9 inches. 9.5, I mean. I don't believe you one bit. The people who brag the most about their size are often the smallest."

Lauren gave an incredulous laugh, then just as quickly turned solemn.

"How about we simply compare them, then?" she suggested out of the blue.

"Huh? Compare? Compare our dicks?"

"And what exactly will you get out of this?"

"The peace and thrill of being bigger than you. That, and fucking Chloe," Lauren replied smugly.

"Let me recap real quick. You're saying that if we compare our dicks and yours comes out to be the larger one, you'll fuck my wife."

With a slight smile, Lauren sneered, "Yes. Right in front of you."

I wasn't even mad now. I had just gotten used to her talking like this.

"And why exactly do you think I'll agree to such a one-sided deal?"

"Cuz if you win, I'll fucking grab my suitcase and leave right now. Like right now."

I took a moment to process her words. "Wait a second. You're saying you'll be out of my hair for good?"

"Forever," she confirmed. "Go-big-or-go-home sort of proposal."

The idea of Lauren simply fucking off did sound good. But there had to be some sort of a catch here. No, I'm sure that there's a catch.

"Nah. I'll pass. You seem too confident in your size. I don't wanna agree just to find out later that you're actually bigger."

"So, you're a coward?"

She really thinks calling me a 'coward' will get me to agree? "Happily."

"Very well. How about I give you a 2 inch advantage then? Even if you're smaller than me, as long as you're within 2 inches, you win."

Hm? I hesitated. Isn't she a bit too confident in her size now? No matter how big you are, a 2 inch difference is a lot when it comes to dick sizes.

A couple of silent moments passed by while I was still contemplating this deal of hers.

"Still confused? Just how much of an advantage do you need, James?" She enunciated that word so cruelly. "Okay, how about 3 inches then? Three inches."

What was happening? Bit by bit, the deal was starting to tilt in my favor.

I thought about the consequence of losing: Lauren fucks my wife.

Then the vivid reality hit me.

Honestly, if Lauren wanted to, she could fuck Chloe at any moment, couldn't she? That's the cold truth, even if I don't want to accept it. The way they both were acting around each other, it's just a matter of 'when'.

I don't understand why she's doing this, but this may be my best fighting chance. Maybe my only fighting chance against Lauren. If I manage to win, all well and good. If not, what happens, happens.

My voice faltered a little, but I managed to say, "D-done."

"Excellent. You first. Go on."

"Wait, right now?"

"You wanna wait for Christmas?"

I got up from the table as I said, "Let me grab a measuring tape."

After looking around the house for a while, I found a tailor's tape and took it to her.

Lauren stood by the table, facing me. "Well, ditch your shorts, James."

"Y-yes."

Why have I become meek all of a sudden? Do I already know that I'm gonna lose?

My eyes were on the ground, and my thumbs under the waistband of my shorts, doing everything but pull them down. I gulped and went through with it.

I heard a small stifled snicker from Lauren when she saw my exposed member.

Take the humiliation, me. It's gonna be worth it in the end.

As I was in the process of lowering the tape down there, Chloe snatched it from me.

"Give that to me. Can't trust a man with this," Lauren said quite shrewdly. I was indeed thinking about cheating a little. Ah, well.

Lauren bent a little to take a good look at my flaccid dick. "We'll take two separate measurements, okay? One soft, one hard."

"Mm-hmm," I nodded a little.

Lauren finally put the measuring tape to my dick. "Exactly 3 inches," she measured and again let out a snicker. "Ah, the irony. Now get hard. Quick."

"Hm? How do I do that?" I asked stupidly.

She stood tall again. "How can I help with that? You expect me to flash my tits or something?" Lauren said harshly.

I didn't say anything. That would be really nice though... er, to help me with my 'getting hard' situation, I mean.

Lauren smiled a little and said in disbelief, "No way? All that monologue about loving your wife and yet you're here lusting after another woman's tits? Ah, men." She shook her head.

Lauren slowly slid her hand into her negligee, grabbed a handful of her massive left tit, scooped it out, and let gravity do the work. It jiggled. Oh, how it jiggled! My body froze when she did that seducing drop, and my mouth was slightly ajar with trickles of drool threatening to run down any second.

I knew her tits were big, I didn't know they were that big. One could forget the alphabet guessing their cup size. It almost felt like they were winking at me, the way only one was out.

My dick was semi-hard now. And Lauren soon hammered the final nail in the coffin: she lifted that same left tit, and brought out a serpent from her mouth that was her tongue.

How could her tongue be that long? Is everything about her just HUGE? Her tits, her tongue, and... and her cock too? The odds seemed to shift out of my favor now.

With her absurdly long tongue she then licked the nipple of that hoisted left tit. It really looked like a serpent slithering around in circles.

Unfathomable amounts of blood rushed to my dick when she did that.

"Bravo," she said, while looking at her tit, praising it for doing a good job. She quickly tucked the puppy inside her negligee again. I was left wanting for more. Why did she stop? Oh, my cock was already hard.

I just stood there with my hands behind my back as Lauren was now taking my hard measurement. When she closed in to make sure the reading was accurate, a hot tendril of her exhale fell on my cock; it inadvertently twitched.

"Easy there, chump," she said to my raging, twitching hardness before she slapped it.

Oh, it felt good. It felt so good.

"5.5 inches, but barely." She then wrapped the tape around my neck as she said, "My turn now."

It was happening.

"I doubt we'll even need to get to my hard measurement, but let's just see."

I quickly looked at her crotch to spot a bulge or something, but nothing was clear as her thigh-length negligee was very loose and frilly around the hip. That quickly changed, though.

Lauren lifted her negligee from the bottom, revealing her panties. There wasn't exactly any definite bulge there, but they did seem unusually full. Somewhat like an overfilled water balloon. Did she even have a cock or had she simply stuffed something there?

When I looked a little more closely, I noticed there was a bulge of some kind hiding in those strained panties. It looked almost like an upright division symbol—a thick 'line' in the middle, and two full 'circles' on either side.

"Ready?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

Lauren, in one smooth motion, slid her panties down.

Lauren's cock didn't look as big as I thought it would—but that was until she spread her hips a little, and pulled out the thing that she had trapped between her asscheeks. It dangled so... abundantly, so heavily, as if it was going to gape a hole in reality itself. It appeared as though gravity pulled her 'modest' appendage with twice the force. She had slid her panties almost down to her knees, but that absolute log of a meat slab had closed most of the distance between them. She slid them down some more to accommodate her member.

Her balls hung with the same emphatic monstrosity like her cock did. It would almost take the whole of my hand to even hold one of her weighty, swollen meatballs.

"Come on then?" Lauren said, raising her arms to her side. "Measure me."

I took a languid step towards it and got on my knees; I was gonna have to bend a lot otherwise. I unhooked the tape from my neck and put it by her cock. The tape looked so comically thin—anything would've, next to that.

"Uh-uh. Put the tape on the shaft," Lauren instructed me. "Accuracy is of the essence here."

I gulped, my fingers ever so slightly shivering.

I pressed the 0 mark of the tape at the base of her shaft, and a small part of my fingertip touched it. It felt extremely fleshy to the touch. I ran the tape down along her trunk, making sure to keep pressing it flush against it. It really was a trunk, had the same heft to it, too.

The numbers kept rising on the tape. 1 inch. 2 inches. 3 inches.

What kind of face Lauren must be making right now?

I looked up, but didn't see her face—her huge tits acted as a rather arousing hindrance, the same tits that lay bare before me just a few minutes ago. Well, tit, not tits. Eh, tuh-may-to, tuh-mah-to.

4 inches. 5 inches. There's still more to go?

Lauren still had her negligee lifted. With her eyes not on me, I took a good look at her whiter-than-white abdomen. She had a nicely toned midsection. Looking at her slim waist alone, you could never guess her size up there... or even down there.

Where were we again? 6 inches. 7 inches.

Most probably, I had lost. But fuck it. I felt a sudden urge to just lick the heck out of her sexy abdomen. Should I do it? There was no telling for how long she would let me have my way, that's why I went all-in from the get-go. I protruded my tongue and went at it, licking and slurping her abdomen like an absolute dog.

Lauren really was benevolent, like she had said earlier, as she let me have my perverted way with her stomach for a few seconds before clutching my hair tightly with her hand.

"We're supposed to measure it soft first, remember?" I heard her voice coming from above her chest. She yanked my hair loose.

Wait a second, was my licking making her feel aroused?

I shifted my gaze back down to check.

Nah, almost seems the same surreal size as before. A logical question hit me suddenly: Do I include her foreskin in the measurement? Of course not, right?

Naturally, in one straight motion, I pulled up her foreskin back until her cock's pink, bulbous head was exposed. A faint ripple shimmered through the whole of her shaft when she shuddered slightly—he clearly hadn't expected me to do something like that.

"Mmgh." I heard a muffled moan.

I looked at the final reading on the measuring tape and almost fell behind with an appalling gasp.

9 fucking inches...

And this was her 'soft' measurement.

Was she even human?

It was at this moment that I got a clear-cut, numerical representation of what the horse in her horsepower euphemism meant.

The final measurement hung in my head. Hung...

"So?" I heard Lauren ask. "How do I measure up against you?" She was clearly mocking me. Though she had every right to. She'd won after all: even after the 3 inch advantage, just her soft cock had knocked my hard one out of contention.

I stood up feeling a smaller man, in more ways than one.

"You've... won, Lauren."

"Never would've guessed. A true underdog story," she snarked. "Speaking of underdogs, what were you doing down there, licking my stomach like a dog possessed?"

"I... I just—"

All color left Lauren's face as she shot a blank look at me. I hadn't even done anything?

Wait, she wasn't exactly looking at me... rather behind me.

I ominously turned my neck.

Staring at us through the slit in the door were a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

CHLOE?!