and as he held out the precious garment to me, I did not grasp it, but it seemed to float out of his hands and over my head, and settle on my shoulders, and drape itself around my thin, reedy body as if it had been made for it, and as if it had always belonged there…

The Shirt was of a fabric that I had never felt before – soft, yet strong, full and heavy enough to drape properly, but lightweight to wear, as was said of the finest Medieval armor. I breathed in deeply, partaking of the incense-laden air, and seemed to pull the essence of The Shirt into me, into my body, and it seemed part of me, something I had been born with, and from which I could never be parted. The floor seemed to disappear beneath me – I seemed to be floating, and I saw in the mirrors that, while my image was blurred and indistinct, I seemed taller, straighter, somehow stronger, bigger, more imposing.

The Shopkeeper stood before me, and laughed his deep, rumbling, throaty chuckle, and licked his beautiful full lips with his bright pink tongue, and with his hands now freed, in one swift, fluid motion tore off his own magnificent long robe, and dropped it on the floor with my own poor clothes. The Shopkeeper now stood before me as naked as I was myself – no undergarment did he wear under his robe, and my guess about the tent with the wet spot had been correct. I gasped again in awe as I beheld his perfect body, gleaming black in the dim light but like The Shirt, seemingly carrying a light within itself. He was huge, and hugely muscled, and he loomed even bigger as he now stood before me, a dark marble statue brought to potent, fierce, exultant Life, and with the biggest dick I had ever seen or imagined jutting forth from his loins.

My knees went weak at the sight of his god-like body, and I fell to the floor, and he bent over me, looming as vast and dark as the ocean, as the night sky, as space, as the Universe itself, above me. H pulled me up against him, his massive cock lifting up my small, pathetic member, and my most fervent wish was granted as he kissed me gently with those soft, plush lips, and wrapped those huge, strong arms around my scrawny body, and breathed again into my ear “Bas wear whatever Bas want – Do whatever Bas want – Be whatever Bas want.”

The Shopkeeper must have been holding me up, because I was not conscious of my feet touching the floor, or of my legs supporting my own weight. He bore me slowly to the soft oriental carpet on the floor, and lay next to me, and threw one massive thigh – like the trunk of a tree – over mine, and held me close, and kissed me again, deeper now, and his pink tongue thrust inquisitively towards the back of my throat.

Emboldened, my hands caressed his massive chest, tracing the firm mound of his pecs and the deep valley between them. His body was as hairless as his head except for a tuft of dark curly hair in the cleft between his pecs, and for the wiry bush of pubes behind that monstrous member. I broke the deep, pleasant, sensual kiss long enough to gasp for air again, drawing in more of the scent of the incense to