Leaderboard

Chapter Eleven “So, what’s the deal with you two?” Mikey was lying on Pete’s bed with his arm around Jackson’s slightly bloated waist, and his head nestled on his obscenely huge chest. He could feel Jackson’s hard, blocky abs underneath his forearm. Unlike Pete, Jackson was more than happy to be embraced in an affectionate cuddle with Mikey. His huge left arm was wrapped firmly around Mikey’s back and the back of his right hand was gently brushing back and forth across Mikey’s abnormally sized forearm. Pete had temporarily left the room, leaving the two monsters alone for the first since they’d arrived at the flat. “Me and Pete? We’re just friends,” Mikey replied, sinking into Jackson’s heaving mass, and never wanting to leave. “Friends, slash, fuck buddies?” Jackson cheekily asked. Mikey grinned. “More like…friends, slash, worship buddies.” “Sounds like a fun arrangement,” Jackson replied, his fingers still lightly brushing up and down Mikey’s forearm. “You know I couldn’t tell if he was gay or not.” “Oh - he’s not,” Mikey said. “So he’s bi?” Jackson asked. “No. He…doesn’t really class himself as anything,” Mikey replied earnestly. He tilted his head up to find Jackson looking down at him with a confused look. “He’s turned on by muscle,” Mikey explained. “Well that’s obvious,” Jackson replied. “What, so he doesn’t like regular guys? Only bodybuilders?” “Yep. Well…not even bodybuilders I don’t think. He’s just turned on by the muscle itself. Huge, shredded muscle though, obviously,” Mikey explained. “Wow,” Jackson replied. “I’ve never heard of that before. That’s pretty fucking horny.” Mikey chortled and nodded in agreement. “So that’s why he was more interested in snogging my huge tits rather than my face?” Jackson asked. “And I thought he just didn’t fancy me that much.” Mikey chuckled in response. “Yeah…don’t take it personally.” “Oh I wasn’t bothered,” Jackson replied. “I mean…he’s fit and everything but, I was kinda busy kissing someone else.” Mikey looked up and blushed slightly as Jackson gave him a bashful smirk. “So what about you, Mikey? Are you into regular guys or do you only like bodybuilders?” Jackson asked. “Oh no. I mean…YES I’m into muscle guys but…I like normal guys too”. “That’s good,” Jackson replied without thinking. Mikey suddenly shot him an inquisitive look, and Jackson blushed slightly as he realised what he‘d said. “Erm…I mean...it could be good,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling into a defeated smirk. Mikey cheekily smirked in response and nodded. “Good because you’re just a regular guy?” he teasingly added. “As regular as you are when you don’t look like this,” Jackson replied. He then suddenly shifted, moving back and pushing his torso up so he was leaning against Pete’s bedroom wall. “I promised you I’d tell you what my power is, didn’t I?” he said, with a slightly defeated tone. Mikey’s heart started racing. He badly wanted to know, but he remembered what Jackson had said to him in the pump room. “I sometimes find it…ruins things.” He was tempted to tell Jackson just to not tell him so they could stay lying together the way they had been for the rest of the night, but Jackson seemed determined to make good on his promise. At that moment Pete re-entered the bedroom. “How are my two favourite muscle monsters?” he cheekily asked. “Or sometime muscle monsters I should say.” “Well…funnily enough, I was just about to tell Mikey what my superpower is,” Jackson replied. He seemed fairly comfortable with the notion, but there was definitely a sense of apprehension in his voice. “Awesome!” Pete said with a sense of excitement, sitting down on his bed and joining the two muscle freaks. “So as you’ve probably guessed, I’m NOT the real Jackson James Jones,” he began. “And I’ve never been Jackson James Jones before. Not until this morning anyway,” he replied. Mikey and Pete exchanged intrigued looks. “Let me start at the beginning. When I was at uni, I had this massive crush on one of my flatmates, Tony. God he was fit. He went to the gym, like, five times a week. His body was awesome. And he bloody knew it. He was always walking around in these little vests. A total fucking show off. Anyway, for my 18th birthday, my flatmates threw me a party. Me and Tony were the last ones to go to bed. We went to his room and smoked a joint. I remember sitting on his bed, looking over at him, and realising that I’d never been so attracted to anyone as much as I was attracted to him in that moment. His chest and biceps were bulging out of his tight black t-shirt. I wanted to kiss him so badly. And then…something strange happened. My whole body started shaking. At first I thought it was the weed. But I was shaking even harder, and then I sort of blacked out. When I came to, Tony had leapt off the bed and was looking at me in complete shock. I looked down and I was no longer in my own body. I had transformed into a fucking woman. Not just any woman either. I looked in Tony’s mirror, and looking back at me, was fucking Beyoncé! I completely freaked out and, in response, my body started shaking again until I was back to my normal self. Anyway, I was pretty fucking gutted. I’d waited years for my superpower to emerge, and to find out I had the ability to transform into Beyoncé? I mean what kind of power is that? But something from that night stuck with me for ages afterwards. It was the way Tony looked at me when I was Beyoncé. I mean, he was shocked, and amazed, but there was something else there too. He was…attracted to me. The boy I fancied more than anyone, actually fancied me back. So, a few months after that happened I was in this club. There was a guy in there with his top off. Gorgeous face. Actual pecs. A proper six pack and everything. One of the hottest men I’d ever seen in my life. Staring at this guy, I suddenly felt my body shaking. Exactly like it did in Tony’s bedroom. I panicked and ran to the bathroom and hid myself in a cubicle. I didn’t wanna turn into Beyoncé in front of a club full of strangers. Except…I didn’t turn into Beyoncé at all. I turned into a man. A fucking beautiful man. I looked in the mirror in the toilets, and staring back at me was a six foot male model with a ridiculous jaw line and a gorgeous, chiselled body. I walked back out into the club, and the hot guy I’d spotted locked eyes with me, and his jaw almost dropped”. The Jackson impersonator was mischievously smiling at this point, like he was remembering the encounter. “So what happened then?” Pete asked. Jackson’s smile grew wider. “I went back to his. Obviously.” Both Pete and Mikey's minds were ticking over. “So…” Pete began, “you saw that guy and you fancied him, and then…you became a hot guy that he was attracted to?” Jackson nodded and smirked. “And you fancied your flatmate Tony.” Pete continued. “And you turned into Beyoncé. Someone who he thought was hot. So whoever they fancy, you then become what they’re attracted to?” The Jackson imitator smirked. “Almost," he replied. "I become what they’re attracted to the most. They call me The Ultimate Fantasy Man.” Everything suddenly clicked into place for Pete and Mikey. “And Mikey’s ultimate fantasy is Jackson James Jones,” said Pete. The Jackson impersonator was looking sheepish at this point and seemed unable to look at Mikey, who was furiously blushing, but simultaneously smirking at the same time at the revelation of Jackson’s power. “Mate! That is one fucking AWESOME superpower,” Pete excitedly said. “Wait…so could you be my ultimate fantasy?” Mikey felt a rush of excitement at the thought of seeing Pete’s ultimate fantasy come to life. Whatever that may be. “Well…” The Ultimate Fantasy Man began, “in theory I could. But it doesn’t quite work like that. I can’t just do it on anyone. It only works with people I really fancy.” Mikey shot a sudden glance at the man who was still in the body of American muscle monster Jackson James Jones, who looked him in the eye for moment, and blushed. “Oh gee. Thanks, mate,” Pete sarcastically said, laughing. “Soz, Pete. I mean you’re fit and everything but...well, you know how it goes,” he sheepishly said. Mikey suddenly became intrigued as to who exactly was hiding under that disguise of monstrously massive muscle, and turned to the mystery man sitting next to him. “Wait…so, do we know each other?” The Ultimate Fantasy Man sheepishly shook his head. “I saw you for the first time this morning at the show.” He let out a deep sigh, and Mikey and Pete watched in shock as his whole body shook with such force that all they could see was a blur, before his real identity was suddenly, and finally revealed. Where a 320 pound All American muscle freak had been not ten seconds before, now sat an incredibly sheepish and nervous looking slim built guy. Mikey’s heart fluttered at the sight of the lad he instantly recognised as the insanely cute Tom Daley look-alike who he'd locked eyes with earlier the day. The only thing missing were his black framed spectacles. He was even more adorable than Mikey had remembered. “It’s YOU!” Mikey said. He seemed surprised that Mikey recognised him. “You were on the next desk over when me and Pete were signing into the show this morning.” The Ultimate Fantasy Man nodded. “So you saw Mikey at the show this morning, thought, "PHWOAR…he’s hot," and transformed into Jackson James Jones?” Pete asked. “Pretty much,” he replied, blushing harder than ever. “FUCK! I bet turning into Jackson was a shock,” Pete added. He mischievously smirked. “It was. But it wasn't the first time I’d transformed into a bodybuilder. My ex was really into muscle, so I was always transforming into whoever his current favourite bodybuilder was.” “That’s how you posed so well?” Pete said. He nodded. “I’ve had a lot of practice being a bodybuilder.” “Sounds like a fun relationship,” Pete excitedly said. He winced. “It was. But…well…he wasn’t really that attracted to me that much when I was just the real me.” Mikey wanted to reach out and scoop him up in his arms. It was ridiculous that a guy whose arse he’d not long been filling up, a guy who had been so overly confident and flirtatious with him all day, could now barely look him in the eye. “Well he sounds like a twat, mate,” Mikey said. “Sorry, but he does. Who wouldn’t fancy you?” The Ultimate Fantasy Man's big, brown, puppy dog eyes lit up as he looked at Mikey. Pete nodded. “You’re a good looking dude.” “I’m no Jackson James Jones,” he said earnestly. Mikey scoffed. “Who is?” “I guess when you’re always turning into these super hot people, you kinda start to feel a little inferior,” he replied. Mikey wanted to lean over, grab him and snuggle him into his 300 pound superpower enabled muscle mass and tell him how unbelievably and adorably cute he was. Pete nodded. “But you’re turning into these extreme versions of what people find hot. Who can compete with THAT? What you need to do is find someone who finds the real you really hot. Then they can have both you, and the ultimate fantasy you. Whatever that might be.” Mikey was sitting listening to Pete and his heart was bursting. He wanted to scream out, “THAT’S ME! I find the real you hot. And cute. And lovely. And adorable,” but the words just wouldn’t come out. He gave Mikey a hopeful look, as if wanting to hear the words that Mikey was saying in his head. Instead, Mikey just offered up a bashful smile. It was absurd. Not half an hour ago he’d shot a load up this guy’s arse, and now he didn’t even have the guts to tell him he thought he was cute. The Ultimate Fantasy Man sighed. “Well…I should probably leave you guys to it.” Mikey suddenly panicked, and Pete looked utterly baffled. “It’s been fun, guys. Really, really fun,” he added, with a hint of sadness. He got up off the bed when Pete suddenly stood up and stopped him. “Errr…no you DON’T!" The Ultimate Fantasy Man looked surprised and confused. “You have the power to turn into Jackson frigging James buggering Jones! A 320 pound pro bodybuilder! Which, by the way, is not far off my ultimate fantasy. Even if Mikey doesn’t want you to stay, and I’m pretty fucking sure he does, considering; A) you can turn into his current favourite muscle monster who likes to get his huge arse pounded into oblivion, and given the way he’s been looking at you for the last ten minutes I think it’s fair to say he clearly fancies the real you too - I’m not letting you go fucking anywhere, mate”! The Ultimate Fantasy Man stood with the biggest and cutest smile looking at both guys, while Mikey grinned like crazy too. Pete’s openness had given him the confidence he'd been looking for. “It’s true," he said, looking him in the eye. “I fancy the fucking pants off you.” The Ultimate Fantasy Man blushed and beamed, and Pete cheekily smirked and rolled his eyes. “You look like Tom fucking Daley, for Christ’s sake," Mikey added. "Tom Daley in black hipster glasses!” All three lads chuckled, before the giddy Tom Daley look-alike spoke. “So...fancying me aside, I’m guessing you’d quite like it if I turned back into Jackson James Jones?” “Hmmm,” Mikey pondered. “Well, obviously, that would be fun. Or….you could just stay like this,” he replied. He blushed even harder, and then turned to Pete. “Would you be OK with that, Pete? Me and you worshipping Mikey?” he said. Pete thought for a moment, then the left corner of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “Hmmm. I have a better idea.” He crawled on his knees towards the two lads at the other end of the bed. “How about…” he held a confused Mikey’s hand and placed it firmly on his left flexed bicep, “...you two fuckers…” he then took The Ultimate Fantasy Man's hand and placed it on his right bicep, “...worship ME?” Mikey scoffed and made to reply, but before he could, his muscle started to rapidly deflate in the way they did when he’d decided to put his power out of use, until he was his regular, slim built, non-muscle freak self again. Only Mikey had not decided to put his power out of use at all. Confused, he looked at the The Ultimate Fantasy Man, who was still very much in his regular, slim built body too. Pete, meanwhile, was mischievously smirking at Mikey. “Didn’t you ever wonder how I knew about the Annual Superpower Games, Mikey?” he asked. “Didn’t you ever think that I might have a superpower too?” Mikey was speechless. The thought had crossed his mind, but somehow he’d never really thought to ask. The Ultimate Fantasy Man was looking just as confused as Mikey was. “I could have found out your superpower at any time, mate,” Pete said to the Tom Daley look-alike. “Yours too, Mikey. From the second you walked into the shop. If I’d have wanted to,” he smugly said. “That’s right, bitches,” he continued. “I reverse superpowers.” Seeing a sudden panic in Mikey's face, Pete quickly reassured his friend. "Oh, don't worry, mate. It's only temporarily reversed. You should be able to turn back into a monster in about...five minutes." Mikey relaxed, and smirked, but a second after he did, both he and The Ultimate Fantasy Man jumped and gave out shocked cries. Pete spun around to see exactly what had caused this sudden reaction. A slightly geeky looking and horror stricken man was stumbling to his feet. “Where the bloody hell did YOU come from?" Pete cried in shock. The frightened man just gawped at the three lads on the bed. And then Pete’s bedroom door flung open, and another man appeared. “We can explain!” the second man frantically said. The three lads on the bed jumped again. “Who the bloody hell are YOU?" Pete asked, now standing up and confronting the two strangers in his bedroom. “Did you two break into my house?” “NO!” the man at the door explained. “Well…kinda. WAIT! Don’t call the police. We’ll tell you everything.” An angry Pete pointed his finger at the man in an authoritative manner. “Start talking. NOW.” Chuck Carter looked at his terrified boyfriend Timmy Tate and gulped. This had definitely not been part of their plan. There was no getting out of this situation. Not with both of their superpowers temporarily reversed. He took a deep breathe. It was time to confess everything.

Next Us Valley Chapter 1 “Five.” “Six.” “Seeeeeeven.” Matt let the weight drop with a thud and stood up. He looked at himself in the gym’s mirror. Feeling pumped and drained after the set, his reflection was impressive. He caught a pair of eyes from a skinny kid behind him, they both pretended to be looking at something else. Matt smirked in self satisfaction, even though he wasn’t lean and ripped, he drew his fair share of staring in the gym. “What’s up big guy?” Matt felt a large calloused hand thump him on the shoulder and looked up to see Stu, the biggest bodybuilder he knew and had the pleasure to call his friend. “This is it,” he said, looking with jealousy at his friend’s vein-corded arm. “Arm day today?” “Nah man, leg day.” Stu hiked up his shorts for Matt who rolled his eyes, of course it was leg day. “See?” Stu said as he hiked up his shorts. Matt ogled his friend’s pumped tree trunks with jealousy and perhaps more than a little bit of lust. “Oh.” “What about you big guy? What are you working on today.” “Chest.” Stu looked briefly down at his friend’s abdomen. “Good good. Gotta make those titties grow!” he said, giving Matt a playful punch in the pecs. “Look, I’ve gotta get back to it. See you later!” He lumbered back to the squat rack. Matt’s eyes widened as he watched his friend lift the bar, which bended slightly over his back. Matt’s eyes narrowed as he tried to dismiss thoughts of his friend. He tried to focus on the rest of his lifts, and succeeded mostly. Though in between sets his eyes wandered in the mirror to the squat rack, leg press, and then calf raise as Stu made his rounds. And Matt wasn’t his only admirer. As the heavyweight bodybuilder moved around the gym, heads turned, like predators watching their prey. Matt grunted as he re-racked his last set. He wasn’t sure what he felt more for his friend, jealousy or lust. Did he want to be him or did he want to be with him? He saw how Stu attracted the attention of seemingly every other man in the gym, even if they tried to hide it. That’s what happened when you were the biggest man in the gym. Matt gritted his teeth and admitted to himself, he wanted to be the biggest guy in the gym. But if he wanted to be the biggest guy in the gym, bigger than Stu even, than what would he do to get there? He considered this as he walked into the locker room, as he showered, and was still mulling the question as he stepped out into the gym’s dusky parking lot. At home, he slung his gym bag onto the couch. He followed the same post-gym routine that he had for years. Rinsing the preworkout from his shaker bottle, dumping an overladen scoop of whey, and shaking it into a shake with water. He downed it unceremoniously. After years he didn’t even think about the taste, it’s only purpose was to deliver protein to his exhausted muscles in the hopes that they would grow. The sad reality was that his muscles had almost completely stopped growing. He was only gaining a few pounds a year, and it was up for interpretation whether it was fat or muscle. As he had done many times before, he sat on his couch next to his gym bag and flipped open his laptop. He needed to release some pent up testosterone from the gym. He tapped on private browsing mode and began typing tumblr into the address bar. He thought back to Stu. He tapped backspace a few times and instead typed in beginner steroid cycle.’ He’d been down this rabbit hole before. Hours later Matt lay passed out on the couch, his face harshly lit by the screen of his laptop. He hadn’t made any decisions. He wanted to take his body to the next level, but something stopped him from taking the plunge… Matt grunted. The glow of his laptop screen stung his eyes. When his vision cleared he saw an ad for the new 24 hour gym down the street, it was a franchise he had never heard of. He glanced at the time, 4:00 AM. He rolled his eyes and got up to make his way into bed. Bed was warm, familiar, and he could stay there until he had to go to get up for work. As soon as he stood up however, he felt different, agitated perhaps. Angry? No. He gritted his teeth, motivated was the right word. He didn’t need drugs to change, he just needed to put in the damn work. With this thought, and no other thoughts, he slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left his dark apartment. The gym ad shined brightly for a few seconds before the laptop’s screen dimmed to black. --- Matt only began to feel a little foolish when he pulled into the gym’s parking lot. It was a quick drive, only ten minutes away, but it was a part of town that he was surprisingly unfamiliar with. Also, he had forgotten that he would likely only be able to buy a membership during business hours. He sat in his car for a moment contemplating without thinking.He thrummed his fingers across the steering wheel as he looked at the building. Despite the light pouring out of the gym’s windows the place almost looked abandoned. He gripped the gear shift with the intention of backing out of the parking lot and heading back to bed. He felt a pang of agitation, something between anger and motivation. Instead of shifting into reverse he shifted into park, took the key out of the ignition and opened the door. The night was dark and cool, he walked into it, letting the car door close behind him. He pressed the lock button and jumped at the sound of his car horn in the silence. Shivering slightly he made his way to the gym entrance. He didn’t glance around to notice that his car was the only one in the lot. “Hello?” Matt called weakly. He stood just inside the entranceway, next to a small office window where he assumed a staff member would normally be to let clients into the gym. He looked into the gym itself, surely he couldn’t just walk in… Feeling irritated at himself he turned to head out. As he reached for the door that feeling of agitated motivation swelled in his chest again. No thoughts. He turned and walked into the empty gym. Matt shivered as he stepped under the gym’s bright fluorescents. Tinny pop music played from some unseen location. The gym was empty but well equipped. He shoved his gym bag into a locker, not bothering to lock it, and walked up to a squat rack. Images of Stu with a bent bar draped over his back flashed through Matt’s mind. No stranger to heavy weights himself, Matt loaded a couple plates on each side of the barbell. With a grunt he loaded the weight onto his back and stepped back a couple steps. “One.” “Two.” “Three.” He muttered each rep under his breath until he hit 12. He grinned, it was easier than he remembered, maybe these weights were slightly lighter than at his regular gym. He loaded another plate on each side of the bar, aware that he wasn’t warming up as much as he should have. He didn’t care. “One.” “Two.” “Three.” The bar rose and fell faithfully with every rep. Matt grunted from effort as he pushed up another 12th rep. He re-racked and leaned against a bar of the squat rack panting. He had lifted heavier, but never for so many reps. “Damn,” he breathed as he felt his quads tightening with a heavy pump. He loaded another plate on either each of the bar. He knew he should probably have a spotter for squatting over 400 lbs, but he didn’t care, and for some reason he woesn’t worried even though he was approaching his one rep max. He noticed with satisfaction thick veins beginning to show themselves under the flushed skin of his legs. “No problem,” Matt said to himself as he hoisted the bar up. He didn’t notice the slight sag in the bar as he steadied himself in the center of the squat rack. He gritted his teeth and sank into a squat. His eyes shut tight into a grimace as he strained to lift the weight back up. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to flair brighter for a moment as the bar rose again. He opened his eyes, he felt like he could go for another rep. He didn’t care how impossible the thought would’ve seemed to him the day before, he began to sink into another squat. “Agggghhhh!” He roared as he began to rise with his second rep. The lights flickered, Matt didn’t notice. The tinny pop music skewed and skipped as the bending bar returned to its starting point. Matt opened his eyes again. He saw himself in the mirror panting and dripping with sweat. His pumped quads strained the fabric of his shorts causing them to ride up a bit. He didn’t have a lot of muscle separation or vascularity, but he made up for that in sheer bulk. The corner of his mouth rose into a small grin as he began to sink down into another squat. “Third time” he thought to himself as he sank deep. He felt the bar on his back pushing him into the ground and all the muscle fibres of his legs straining to keep him up. He began to rise again. He let out a quiet guttural grunt as his legs bulged with the effort. The air around him seemed to still. The world went dark and the music grew quiet and then silent. Matt opened his eyes. He was standing solidly in the middle of the squat rack, weight balanced solidly on his back. But instead of his reflection in a mirror, he stood facing a metal door. Matt took a few small and careful steps forward. He let the bar drop onto its spot on the rack. There were no thoughts. He didn’t think about opening the door, he only felt the need to do so. There was no agitated feeling to tug him forward this time, his hand grasped the metal handle. He was surprised to feel a pleasant warmth radiating from it. He stared forward as he turned the handle and slowly swung the door open. He gasped as he stepped into the bright light beyond the door. --- The first thing Matt noticed was the heat. It wasn’t oppressively hot, but dry heat that didn’t feel right for an Ohio winter. As his eyes adjusted to the light he realized that it was orange sunlight streaming in from large windows in front of him. He turned to survey his surroundings. Another part to the gym? This section seemed to be for serious lifters only, he thought. A row of squat racks occupied one wall, the rest of the gym was a mix of benches, barbells, and dumbbells. There were no weight machines or treadmills in sight. Matt whirled around at the sound of the metal door banging shut. He tried the handle, stuck. “Uhh,” he muttered nervously. “Hey!” Matt yelped at the sound of another man’s voice and his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Woah sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Matt looked up to see the other man, and then down. His eyebrows arched and he sucked in a breath. The stranger was 5 and a half feet of solid muscle. He wore a batman shirt with the logo stretched beyond copyright infringement by a solid pair of pecs and boulder delts. The yellow under armour logo on the sleeves was also stretched by the two monstrous arms hanging by the man’s side. The shorts did little to hide the man’s thick quads and “Hey.” Matt looked up at the man’s face and blushed at being caught so blatantly admiring the other man’s physique. The stranger just smiled. “My name’s Nick. I own the place.” He motioned around at the empty gym. “I just opened up, feel free to ask me questions if you have any.” Nick smirked knowingly. “No need to show your membership ID, I know you’ve got it with you.” “Well actually,” Matt began. “Right there big guy.” Nick pointed at Matt’s feet. Sure enough there was a plastic card there with his name on it, the words THE BASTILLE were splayed across the top in block letters. At the bottom in a pleasant green font it said Welcome to Los Grandes Picos, California! Where life starts anew. California? Matt looked up to Nick, who looked back at Matt with his little smirk. Oh boy, Matt sighed to himself. “I’m not really from around here.” Matt said, instantly feeling stupid with his cliche statement. “Oh and the name’s Matt.” “Well it’s nice to meet you Matt, and nobody’s from around here. Our little community, Los Grandes Picos, is home to lots of people just like you.” He winked. “I know you’ll fit in nicely.” And with that he turned and walked towards The Bastille’s front desk. He shouted over his shoulder, “don’t forget to let me know if you need anything! We can arrange for most things to be delivered to your room.” ‘My room?’ Matt opened his mouth to ask, but decided better of it. He felt like he would find out soon enough. He stuck his hand in a pocket on his gym shorts and felt a little metal object. Sure enough it was a small copper key with the words Halfway Motel and the number 5 on it. “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Oh yeah. Change rooms are over there big guy.” Nick pointed with his oversized corded arm to a door with a male bodybuilder’s silhouette on the front. “You can lift with me for a bit before you check in to the hotel.” He smiled warmly. “If you like of course. Otherwise your stuff is in locker five. Nobody here bothers to lock their lockers, so feel free to grab it and go.” More mysteries and more questions, but Matt continued to hold his tongue. “Thanks.” He looked around at the equipment, his quads felt warm and full of blood from the squats. “I think I’ll take you up on that lift.” “Excellent!” Nick clapped his meaty hands together and then put one on Matt’s shoulder. “Looks like you already got the legs covered for today, chest and arms?” For emphasis Nick flexed into a double bicep pose and then a most muscular. Matt stopped himself just short of drooling. Nick relaxed his pose and tapped Matt on the chest as if to remind him where his eyes were. “Uh yeah.” Matt said. “That looks, I mean sounds, great.” He tried to look Nick confidently in the face. “Well great then. Let’s pump some fucking iron.” This time his grin was mischievous. Nick plopped onto a bench. He swung a meaty, vascular calf over the edge and straddled it. He let himself drop under the bar. There were already a few plates on either side of the barbell so Matt just had to stand behind and spot. After completing an impressive set of lifts Nick stood up and motioned for Matt to get under the bar. His chest was flushed with the beginning of a pump, Matt could see a few veins beginning to protrude in his neck and coming out of the top of his tank top. “This weight okay for you bud?” Matt nodded, though in reality he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t lifted that much since his powerlifting days. “Don’t worry bro, I’ll spot you. You won’t need it though.” He winked and punched Matt’s chest playfully. When he was under the bar Matt’s hesitation dissolved. He gripped it firmly feeling the power he needed to lift the weight surging from the soil of the valley, into the floor, and through his feet all the way up to his chest and arms. With a grimace and deep grunt he unracked the weight and let it descend to his chest. He tapped his lower pec and pushed the bar back up. “One,” he grunted. “Nice man. Look I should have mentioned something before.” Matt wasn’t listening, his vision had tunneled and Nick’s voice was a distant drone.“Two.” “This place. This valley. It changes people man. “Three.” “I mean, they’re mostly good changes.” “Four.” “Whatever you want really.” “Five.” “You see, the issue is-” “Six.” “-most people don’t really know what they want. They think they do.” “Seven.” “But they don’t really.” “Eeeight.” “Me? I knew exactly what I wanted… Oh? Need some help there buddy?” “Nine,” Nick said proudly as he pretended to help Matt lift the bar and rerack it. He gripped Matt’s meaty hand and helped him off the bench. Nick’s eyes flit between Matt’s face and pecs. “I better watch out,” he said with a sly grin. “Or I might not have the biggest pecs in the valley anymore.” Matt laughed. “Might take a few years before that happens, especially at the rate I’m going.” “I wouldn’t be too sure about that big guy.” Nick winked and then left to retreat back to the front desk. Matt shrugged. He was more than satisfied with the weight he had just put up. Maybe this gym had lighter weights than what was written on them? He sighed and lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Ughh. Huh?” He frowned, his hand hovered an inch away from his forehead. He looked down to see the reason it had gotten stuck. Two impossibly large mounds of muscle were in the way of his forearm. His eyes widened with the discovery, and then he felt the weight of the massive pecs. He poked one gingerly. It was hard and squishy at the same time. He flexed and instantly felt the newfound power in his chest. He placed a hand over the granite muscle, his granite muscle, and felt veins and striations mounding up as he flexed. He felt his face growing red as a began tenting his gym shorts. “Uhhhh.” He found a mirror and stood in front of it. “Holy shit.” It wasn’t just his chest that was bigger. He was bigger everywhere. His shoulders formed round boulders and his neck was noticeably thicker and corded with muscle. His newly grown mountainous pecs pushed his tank top to its limits. And he let his thick and veiny gorilla arms hang dumbly by his side as he stared at his reflection. “I gotta get out of here,” he whispered to himself, eyeing the package in his shorts, which was bulging obscenely. “Thanks for the lift” he blurted to Nick as he strode past, determined to reach the front door without revealing to much to the bodybuilder at the front desk. He didn’t pause to consider how much deeper and louder his voice seemed. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Nick called back. Matt pushed the front door open. He couldn’t help noticing the meaty thud his larger hands made on the tinted glass and the mass of veins and muscle in them that bulged under his skin. He instantly squinted and covered his eyes from the bright sunlight. It was warm and comforting on his sweaty skin. He slowly opened his bulky fingers and allowed the glare of the sun to filter through. A large orange sign with blue letters began to sharpen into focus. Welcome to Next Us Valley

OK here goes. The final chapter... Chapter Twelve The audience members of the bodybuilding show at the Annual Superpower Games were now all standing up, gathering their things and making their way to exit the arena. Most of them were chatting excitedly about what had been an incredible bodybuilding competition, with most of the talk was about two of the competitors; the incredible Mikey M, who they’d watched transform from an ordinary sized lad into a 300 lbs muscle freak, and famous American pro bodybuilder Jackson James Jones. Or at least, someone who was in the body of him. Chuck Carter, however, had other plans. He had to get back to his boyfriend Timmy Tate. He got out of his chair and hung back as the theatre emptied. When he was sure that no one was looking, his superpower kicked in and worked it’s magic. He headed straight to the steps at the right side of the stage, casually strolled across it and exited at the back, leading him straight into the pump room area. He walked straight past The Human Road Map and Bicycle Pump Boy, bit his lip at the sight of the glorious twenty-four stomach muscles popping out of Mr Amazing Abs’ midsection and darted his eyes to the floor to avoid being hypnotised when The Irresistible Ass Man suddenly turned his back to him Jackson, Mikey, and his smaller but sexy friend were all huddled together. Jackson was putting on his tracksuit bottoms. Mikey was already fully clothed and his black bag was thrown over his shoulder; the very bag Chuck had sneakily opened just a few hours before, while Mikey and the other lads had been on stage during prejudging. Chuck very much doubted that Mikey had had time to change in the short time since he’d left the stage, meaning that he was probably still wearing the shiny pink posing trunks under his trousers. He thought he’d have to hang around in the pump room for a little while, but the three lads seemed rather eager to leave. “I’m about twenty minutes on the tube,” Chuck heard Mikey’s friend say to Jackson as he got closer. “Brilliant,” he replied. He was positively beaming. Chuck’s chest expanded with excitement. Was it possible that all three lads were leaving together? “Wait! Let me just say bye to Shaun,” Mikey’s friend said. “No worries, Pete,” Mikey replied. Pete swivelled round and rushed straight passed Chuck without acknowledging him. “AWESOME posedown, Mikey,” Jackson said. He was grinning at Mikey with the sexiest, most flirtatious grin. Chuck had suspected that something might be going on between these two guys with all the touching in the posedown, not to mention the fact they had both been bulging out of their posing trunks to an outrageous degree. But the way the two muscle monsters were both looking at each other now, and the incredible sexual tension that was filling the space between them, Chuck had absolutely no doubts about what was happening between them. Or what was about to happen. “It really WAS!” Mikey replied. “FUCK! That was even better than how I had imagined. And I’ve been imagining it. A LOT!” Jackson chuckled. “Ever imagine you’d be standing in front of Jackson James Jones?” “FUCK NO!” Mikey excitedly replied. Jackson grinned, but a moment later, it had faded, and Chuck noticed something else in his expression. A slight hint of sadness, which completely took Chuck by surprise. “Just remember what I said, yeah? I might not actually be the real Jackson James Jones.” “I know,” Mikey said, still grinning. Chuck noticed that Mikey really didn’t seem to mind much at all. Mikey's friend Pete returned to the scene. “Right, lads," he began. "You ready to go?” All three men were soon heading out of the pump room. Overcome with nerves and excitement, Chuck Carter followed them. He looked at Mikey’s obscenely developed ass bulging through the material of his tracksuit bottoms and smiled. He and his boyfriend Timmy were in for one hell of a night. * Chuck sighed and looked at the three men eagerly awaiting an explanation. “I followed you guys here from the show,” he began. “And then you broken into my flat?” Pete asked. “No! Well…not really,” he replied, struggling to explain himself. “Then how the hell did you get in?” Pete barked. Mikey was looking at Timmy, who was standing sheepishly at the end of Pete’s bed and something suddenly clicked in his brain. He leapt up and looked at the spot on the floor where Timmy was standing. “Wait a minute,” Mikey began, before Chuck could answer Pete’s question. “Where are my posing trunks?” Timmy’s face went scarlet and Chuck reached into his pocket. “They’re here.” He reached out his hand to Mikey, and, sure enough, balled into Chuck’s fist were Mikey’s bright pink posing trunks. “So you broke into my house and stole my mate’s posing trunks?” Pete asked. “I was gonna put ‘em back!”, Chuck pleaded anxiously. Mikey was staring at his beloved pink posers in his hands. They were now completely free of any of the tan stains and oil marks that they'd suffered during the bodybuilding competition. They even still smelt of the fabric conditioner he'd used to wash them in a few nights before. “But these haven’t been worn?” Mikey said. “What are you talking about, mate? You’ve been wearing them practically all day,” Pete said. “No, he hasn’t,” Chuck answered. “I knew they felt different!” Mikey exclaimed. “So, if you haven’t been wearing those, what have you been wearing?” Pete asked impatiently. Both Mikey and Chuck were looking at the man standing awkwardly at the end of Pete’s bed, now sheepishly looking at his feet. “I think we’re looking at him,” Mikey said. His mouth curled into a mischievous grin. “You’re Mr Inanimate Object!” Timmy looked up with an apologetic expression on his face. “Yep,” he replied. “Wait!” The Ultimate Fantasy Man exclaimed. “I’ve heard of you! You can…” but Pete interrupted him and finished his sentence, “...turn into any inanimate object of your choice.” Timmy nodded, still deeply embarrassed at the situation. “A lamppost. A park bench. A coffee mug.” “A pair of pink posing trunks!”, Mikey added. Timmy nodded. Pete looked at Timmy and, for the first time since the two mysterious men had unexpectedly appeared in his bedroom, his face softened and his mouth turned into a grin. “You kinky bastard!" Timmy mischievously smirked, and then, much to all of the lad’s surprise, his whole body shrunk towards the floor and changed shape rapidly, until he had seemingly disappeared from view. Mikey, Pete and Jackson all climbed to the end of the bed where they saw, lying on the floor, where Timmy had been stood, a pair of crumpled up, bright pink posing trunks, identical to the ones Mikey had clutched in his hand, save for the tan stains. “Woah!” The Jackson impersonator muttered. “That is bloody awesome,” Pete exclaimed. And then, the mucky pink posing trunks started to squirm of their own accord, and out of the spot where they were sitting, a large shape emerged and formed until the fully sized figure of Timmy Tate, who was once again standing in front of them, this time looking a little less embarrassed, and even a little pleased himself. “So, all this time, you’ve been Mikey’s pink posing trunks?” Jackson asked. Timmy nodded. “Well…for the past few hours,” he replied. “And Mikey’s real trunks have been stuffed into your pocket!” Pete said, addressing Chuck. “But when did you swap them? And how?” Mikey added. “It really wasn’t that hard," Chuck replied. “Timmy transformed into a five pound note this morning and I put him in my pocket. Then we sneaked into the pump room. I didn’t know where I was going so I followed Mikey and Pete. If you haven't guessed already, me and Timmy are massive muscle fans. We’ve been to the show at the Annual Superpower Games for a few years now so we know how it all works. We knew that most of the competitors change their trunks in between the prejudging and finals. The plan wasn’t fool proof, obviously, but I knew there was a good chance I’d be able to find a pair of posers lurking somewhere backstage. And then I heard Pete telling The Irresistible Ass Man about Mikey’s pink posers hiding in his bag and…well, it was perfect! I waited for the bodybuilders to head out on the stage for prejudging, then went into Mikey’s bag - sorry, Mikey - put the five pound note, i.e. Timmy, next to the pink posers and watched him transform. Then I put Mikey’s real trunks into my pocket.” “You sneaky bugger,” Mikey replied, but far from being annoyed or angry, he looked impressed and amused. Chuck’s face softened and he grinned. “I was always gonna swap them back,” he explained. “Obviously we didn’t expect for this to happen.” “Wait!” Pete interrupted. “You said you heard me talking about Mikey’s pink posers? But I didn’t see you. In fact, I didn’t see you in the pump room at all today.” Chuck shook his head. “None of you saw me.” And before any of the three men could question him, Chuck’s whole body took on a ghost-like appearance until he had completely disappeared from view. “WOAH,” Pete exclaimed. And then, in reverse of what had just happened, Chuck’s body suddenly re-appeared, becoming less ghost-like and more solid until it was fully formed and perfectly normal in appearance. “They call me Mr Invisibility," Chuck explained. "It’s a bit more original than The Invisible Man, I guess.” “So you can pretty much go wherever you want and no one will know?” Mikey asked. “Pretty much,” Chuck replied. “I can sneak on to any plane without paying. That’s how I got to Vegas last year. Me and Timmy went to watch the Mr Olympia there. I snuck backstage and was about an inch away from the real Jackson James Jones pumping up his massive tits. I could practically taste his sweat. Then I got up on stage during the posedown and he cranked a massive crab most muscular right in my face. Just like you did earlier today Mikey. I virtually creamed myself right on the spot.” “FUCK!” Pete excitedly exclaimed. “So while you’re on stage mere inches away from flexing muscle bulls…” he then turned to Timmy, “...you’re wedged in the arse crack of some bodybuilder in the form of a pair of posers?” Timmy cheekily grinned. “Well…actually, this is the first time we’ve ever done this. I’ve turned into posing trunks before. But never ones worn by a bodybuilder. Or even a sometime bodybuilder,” he said, referring to Mikey’s superpower. “And how was it?” Mikey teasingly asked. Timmy blushed. “Pretty fucking awesome actually.” “I’ll bet!” Pete said. “And I don’t make a habit of doing this either,” Chuck chipped in. “Sneaking into people’s homes I mean. I know it must look bad but, well…I needed to follow Mikey, to get Timmy back, and swap his trunks again. I was expecting to go back a hotel room or something, and switch the trunks when Mikey had gone to the bathroom.” Pete looked at both of the lads with one of his eyebrows raised. “And you didn’t discuss the possibility that anything else might happen once that bodybuilder had gotten back to his hotel room? Whether said bodybuilder might need to, erm…release some tension while still wearing his posers? Or get worshipped by some lucky muscle fan? Or get to fuck a 320 pound muscle monster with his tan drenched, sweat soaked trunks wedged half way down his quads?” Timmy blushed and looked down, while Mikey and The Ultimate Fantasy Man exchanged sheepish looks. Chuck, meanwhile, just shrugged. “We didn’t really think about it,” he said. But then his face cracked, and his mouth curled into a mischievous grin. “But we’re sorry,” Chuck added, suddenly looking serious. “Honestly, guys, we didn’t mean to upset any of you. And I didn’t mean to sneak into your house, Pete. I just…well, I’ve had so much fun with my power over the years, I thought it was about time Timmy had some fun as well.” “I’m not pissed off,” Pete replied. “You’re a pair of cheeky fuckers for doing this, but…I get it. I mean, who the fuck wouldn’t wanna be a pair of posers worn by a 300 pound muscle freak? FUCKING ‘ELL!! But I think it’s Mikey you need to give the biggest apology to.” All of the lads turned to Mikey. “Well I’m not too happy that you took my trunks. But…I get it too. And I actually think it’s kinda horny that, well…all that time my trunks were…a person,” he said. A huge, cheeky grin was now spread across Timmy’s face. “So, next time you wanna get covered in my sweat and tan and be wedged inside my arse crack, just ask me first,” he said. Timmy’s eyes lit up at the suggestion that Mikey might grant him permission to embark on another similar adventure. “So we have…what…five muscle lovers here?” Pete began. “Two of whom can transform into fuck-off huge bodybuilders, and one of whom can transform into a pair of posing trunks. I reckon it’s about time we stopped nattering like a bunch of old biddies and had a bit of fun, lads.” Timmy was practically bouncing on the spot and grinning from ear to ear, while Chuck, now fully relaxed beamed and replied with a, “Fuck yeah!” “Wait,” Chuck suddenly said. “There's just two things I need to know. If you guys don't mind?" Pete, Mikey and The Ultimate Fantasy Man all shook their heads and looked at Chuck with intrigue. “Firstly...Mikey, Ultimate Fantasy Man. Sorry if I embarrass either of you, but I’m feeling brave. Are you two gonna get together or not, cause, well…you just look so fucking CUTE together?” Mikey and The Ultimate Fantasy Man just looked at each other and exchanged sheepish smirks. "And Pete, a question for you,” he cautiously began. “If The Ultimate Fantasy Man were to fancy you, and turn into your ultimate fantasy, who, or what would he turn into?” Mikey’s eyes bulged. He really wanted to know the answer to Chuck’s question. Pete looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “You really wanna know?” he asked. “YES!” both Mikey and Chuck exclaimed in unison. “OK. Don’t judge me, guys, but…” he took a deep breath and continued, “from the neck down, he would probably be about a 340 pound version of Jackson James Jones. From the neck up?” At this point his mouth curled into a devilish smirk. “He’d be me.” The Ultimate Fantasy Man scoffed. “You cocky bastard.” “Hey! I said don’t judge,” Pete replied defensively. “It's not like I myself really attractive or anything. So Mikey told you earlier that what I’m really attracted to is muscle. So that would be my ultimate fantasy. Me, as a 340 pound bodybuilder.” Chuck was giggling, Timmy was smirking, and The Ultimate Fantasy Man was playfully rolling his eyes. Mikey, meanwhile, seemed to have spaced out of the conversation completely. His mind was ticking over what Pete had said, and he was suddenly imagining his friend's head on top of Jackson James Jones’ body. And then, other thoughts started coming into his head too. “Right," Pete suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to worship some serious muscle. Mikey suddenly realised that all four lads were looking directly at him. His mouth curled into an excited grin and he said, “I suppose I should do the honours then”. His pecs expanded off his chest, his biceps tripled in size and his quads ballooned. Every single muscle on Mikey’s regular sized body exploded and grew until he was a 300 pound muscle monster once more. He looked down and bounced his humungous tits. Chuck released a gasp, Timmy let out a whimper, The Ultimate Fantasy Man bit his lip and Pete just smirked at the sight of the thing which turned him on more than anything else in the world; the excessively sized muscle mass of a genuine freak. “Wait!" Chuck exclaimed. "I just have one more question.” Pete and Timmy groaned. “You revealed your power to all of those people at the show today. Which was fucking awesome, by the way. So it won’t be long before people start talking about your power, if they’re not doing so already. So what will they call you? I mean…you’ve gotta have a superpower name.” Mikey thought for a moment, then looked at The Ultimate Fantasy Man. Remembering what he’d said in the pump room after his routine, when he'd been in the body of Jackson James Jones, Mikey smiled. “How about…The Human Muscle Morph?” ONE YEAR LATER “Look at him go!” Shaun Slater, aka The Irresistible Ass Man, exclaimed. “The crowd are loving him,” Pete Potter replied. “They’re going NUTS!” Shaun added. “How much does he weigh, Mikey?” Pete asked, addressing the man to his right. “340 pounds exactly”, Mikey Maguire proudly replied. “Twenty pounds up from last year.” All three men were stood at the side of the stage, watching on as muscle monster Noah North performed his posing routine at his second appearance at the bodybuilding competition of the Annual Superpower Games. “He could have taken his specs off though,” Pete said. “I told him to keep them on,” Mikey replied dreamily. Pete smirked, shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. Noah spun around, and outrageously tucked the back of his shiny golden coloured posing trunks into his arse crack. An audible gasp came from the blank space to Mikey’s right. “Babycakes!” Chuck Carter squeaked. Pete chuckled. “Timmy’s gonna love THAT,” Mikey said. “And you’re not bummed out about coming second place again, Mikey?” Pete asked. “Ummmm. You see that insanely cute, 340 pound bodybuilder up there? That’s my boyfriend. My fucking boyfriend! How can I possibly be bummed out about anything?” Mikey replied. “Yeah, well…me, Timmy and Chuck get to worship all 340 pounds of that muscle tonight as well you know, so don’t look so smug.” “Sometimes I wish I was gay,” Shaun Slater sighed. All heads turned to look at him curiously. “You guys just always sound like you have so much fun together,” he explained. “You can always join us, Shaun,” Mikey teased with one eyebrow raised. “Nah. There’s way too much ass here for just five guys”, he replied with a cheeky grin. Mikey felt something suddenly twitch in his shiny pink posing trunks. “Plus, Pete’s not gay,” Mikey added. “Oh yeah! I forgot. He’s only turned on by muscle. Have you found a word for that yet, Pete?” The Irresistible Ass Man asked. “Fucking horny?” an invisible Chuck Carter unexpectedly exclaimed. “Sorry!” he added, in a sheepish tone. “No worries, Chuck, mate,” Pete replied with a smirk. “Oh, and we might not be able to see you, but we know you’re blushing right now.” Noah North had spun around to face the audience and was now hitting an incredible abs and thighs pose to wild applause from the audience. His thick cock bulged out of his golden coloured posers to a laughable degree. “FUCK!” Shaun exclaimed. “And I get to spunk all over those shredded abber dabbers later,” Pete said. “AHEM! Sensitive straight man here!” Shaun exclaimed. “Now just to make sure, Chuck…” Mikey began in a teasing tone, “I am actually wearing MY posing trunks this year, aren’t I? You haven’t been rummaging through my bag again?” Both Chuck and Pete chuckled. “Hmmm. Cracking jokes to cover up the fact that you’re a wee bit jealous perhaps?” Chuck teasingly replied. “Oh, please,” Mikey replied. “I can shove the back of your boyfriend into my arse crack and shoot a big load into the front of him any time I want.” “I really need to start hanging out with more straight guys,” groaned Shaun. “ARGGHHHH!” A loud bellow erupted from the stage as they watched Noah hit an upstanding most muscular with his fists pushed together. “OH, FUCK YEAH!” Pete exclaimed over the raucous applause of the audience. All four lads stood and watched in awe as Noah cranked out another three crab most musculars, each one accompanied with a cockier facial expression and louder scream than the last. As he adorably waved goodbye to his audience with a cheeky grin on his utterly cute face, Noah turned and waddled off the stage and straight towards the four men he’d met exactly one year ago that day; except his eyes were only fixated upon one of them. Mikey smiled like crazy as he met his sweat and tan drenched boyfriend and embraced him with a hug. “You did so well, babe,” Mikey said. “You fucking owned that stage, Noah, mate,” Pete exclaimed. “I had some posing tips from Mikey,” he replied. With his arms still wrapped around him, Mikey pushed his head back to admire his boyfriend. From the neck down, Noah had the body of a 340 pound version of All American muscle monster Jackson James Jones. From the neck up, however, Noah bared very little resemblance to the bodybuilder Mikey had competed with a year before. His big, brown puppy dog eyes gazed at Mikey through his black hipster glasses which were perched on the top of his impossibly cute nose. Mikey had a sudden flashback to the first time he’d seen his boyfriend's utterly gorgeous face exactly a year ago today, staring at Mikey in awe as he signed in for his very first bodybuilding show. Even staring at him now, he couldn’t help thinking how much he looked like Tom Daley. The show’s commentator’s voice filled the arena. “Your next competitor is from a small town in…” but Pete interrupted. “Mikey, you’re up!” he excitedly exclaimed. “Rip up that stage, Mikeykins,” Noah said. “Wait!” Shaun said. “You haven’t told me what you’re doing up there, Mikey. I mean, how are you gonna top last year’s posing routine?” “Well, you know how last year I went out in my normal body and transformed into a monster? Well, this time I’m going out as a monster and I’m gonna de-morph half way through,” Mikey explained. “I’m gonna look down in shock, shrug and just carry on hitting some poses in my regular body.” “Awesome!” Shaun Slater replied. “As always!” Pete proudly said. Mikey shot his good friend Pete an affectionate smile. He would forever be in debt to the man who’d been working at the shop Mikey had stumbled across fifteen months earlier. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t be wrapped around a Tom Daley look-alike, who occasionally had 340 pounds of huge muscle sitting beneath his neckline, ready to go onstage at the world most bonkers bodybuilding competition in a pair of the hottest pink posers ever produced. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the commentator loudly announced, “make some noise for Mikey The Human Muscle Morph.” THE END

That final part was hella funny. I didnt see it coming at all. It was bloody great

Chapter Ten Mikey visited Pete in London several times before the bodybuilding competition at the Annual Superpower Games. Each visit would result in Mikey being worshipped, and both lads shooting their loads. Usually multiple times. Other than making each other cum with their worship sessions, things remained platonic between the pair. Mikey had tried to be affectionate with his muscle loving worship buddie on a couple of occasions, though it was never planned. Pete was never very responsive to these attempts though, and so Mikey quickly expelled any thoughts which crept into his head that things between he and Pete could take a romantic turn. Instead, Mikey reasoned that they had an amazing and special relationship, and their worship sessions were amongst the hottest and most unique of his experiences in his 300 pound muscle monster form, and that was more than enough for him. Up until the day of the show, their posing and worship sessions had remained a secret between the two of them. But now, on the evening of Mikey’s first ever appearance at the Annual Superpower Games, the pair had unexpectedly invited a third person back to Pete’s flat. The mystery man who, with the use of a superpower still unknown to Mikey and Pete, had transformed into the body of Mikey’s favourite bodybuilder; ridiculously good looking, twenty-five year old, 320 pound American meat mountain Jackson James Jones. Within five minutes of entering Pete's flat, both Mikey and the Jackson James Jones impersonator had stripped back down to their posing trunks. Pete sat on his sofa, looking up at the two phenomenal muscle monsters, still bronzed from their competition tan, standing side by side in the middle of his living room, both pumped and shredded to a shocking degree, all the time wondering whether he'd ever see such a magnificent or surreal sight again. "Okay, lads. Let's get a front double bicep!" And with those words, both of the muscle freaks sprang into action and started flexing at Pete's command. All of the mandatory bodybuilding poses followed, climaxing with Pete instructing both of the lads to hit a most muscular. While Mikey bought both of his fists together, released an outrageously cocky "YEAARRGHHS!" and aggressively scrunched his face up like some kind of animal, the Jackson Jones impersonator went straight for a crab most muscular. Bending down low, his enormous, hard traps erupted up to his earlobes and he released a loud, obscene, "OOOOOOHHH." "THAT'S IT, LADS! HIT THAT POSE!" shouted Pete. Mikey responded by outrageously slapping both of his enormous, and insanely detailed quads, before placing both of his hands on the side of them, and cranking down hard into another most muscular, his eyes shut tight, his face contorted to a comical degree, and his teeth gritted as he released another grizzly, animal-like growl. "GRRRRRRRRR!!" Jackson was imitating Mikey in a similar pose, but all Pete could focus on was his mate, and regular worship buddie, squeezing like crazy with all of his might as his thick pecs tightened and erupted from his chest, his gorgeous, blocky abs burst though his tummy, and the hard on stretching his now mucky, tan stained posing trunks visibly jolted underneath the shiny pink material. "COME OOOOON!" Pete outrageously shouted, in an attempt to encourage Mikey to crank out his next most muscular pose with even more aggression and force. Pete's efforts worked brilliantly, as Mikey lifted both of his arms up, and cranked them back down with brutal force into a crab most muscular, while releasing his loudest, and cockiest shout yet. "ARRRGGGHHHH!"! Jackson responded by belting out his own crab most muscular with an indecent "YEEEEAAASSSS!" and Pete watched on from the seat of his sofa, his dick juddering, and pre-cum dripping into his boxers as the two flexing muscle bulls before him tried to outdo each other in the most outrageous and erotically charged display of testosterone fuelled, attitude packed posing he'd ever witnessed. When the monsters had stopped posing, the atmosphere immediately lightened, and all three lads were grinning wildly and chuckling to each other. Jackson was bent over with his hands rested on his ridiculous quads, panting and trying to catch his breathe after posing so hard. Mikey, meanwhile, wasn't showing any signs of exhaustion. As part of his superpower, he could pose for as long as he wanted and never get tired. Pete knew that, if Mikey could, he would just carry on cranking out most musculars until he finally blew a load into his bright pink, mucky pup posing trunks. "Awesome job, lads," Pete said, still grinning. Mikey had placed his hand on Jackson's ridiculously broad back. Jackson straightened up, still panting slightly, his big abs moving in and out of his ever so slight turtle tummy. Mikey's hand had dropped to his side, and as the two shredded muscle bulls standing in the middle of Pete's living room looked at each other, the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift once again. Jackson was the first to make a move. Wrapping one of his huge arms around Mikey’s enormous back, he invited him into his hulking mass of monstrous muscle. Responding by wrapping his own arms around Jackson, Mikey sank his own freak show worthy body into Jackson's, becoming completely engulfed by his hard, shredded mass. Mikey’s thick, bumpy abs pressed against Jackson’s, his huge, balloon-like tits squeezed against his, their quads fought for space, and his rock hard, bright pink posing trunk covered hard on pushed as tight as it could against Jackson’s big, purple trunk covered bulge. His fingers dug into Jackson’s thick lats and, as he sunk his head into Jackson’s bull-like traps, he groaned with pleasure. Having his 300 lbs body engulfed by the huge mass of muscle belonging to one of the world’s top bodybuilders, Mikey felt like his cock was going to explode at any given moment. After their initial embrace, Jackson invited Pete over to join them, and he and Mikey proceeded to touch, explore and worship every inch of the Jackson James Jones impersonator's magnificent, beast-like physique. Mikey had touched his own huge muscle many times. He’d even touched Pete’s flexed bicep and modestly thick pecs before. But nothing compared to the sensation of feeling the gigantic sized, fully flexed mass of the American muscle God before him. Mikey had never been attracted to anyone as much as he was attracted to Jackson. It was like his ultimate fantasy had come to life. In turn, Jackson was as equally attracted to Mikey. Jackson also loved seeing Pete’s over-excited and awe stricken reaction to his mass and the fact that it seemed like he was on the verge of cumming in his pants any moment, as he worshipped the two magnificent muscle bulls in his living room. But what Jackson really loved was seeing Mikey in a state of pent up ecstasy as he squeezed Jackson’s tits and dug his fingers into his biceps. There was something slightly more sensual in Mikey’s touch too. In turn, Jackson was a lot more attentive and affectionate towards Mikey than he was with Pete. Mid way through being worshipped by the two lads, Jackson, with his arm still wrapped around Mikey, and their huge, bronzed bodies pressed up against each other, pushed his face towards Mikey’s, and gently brushed his nose with his, inviting him to draw his lips to his. Mikey took the invite, and the two muscle monsters were suddenly lost in a deep, passionate kiss. At the same time, Pete drew his lips to one of Jackson’s ginormous sized muscle tits, and began to passionately suck on the obscenely thick pec muscle. Before long, all three lads had made their way to Pete’s bedroom. Together, they were just one big heaving mass of pent up, sexually charged muscle. Three men completely lost in the act of extreme muscle worship. All ready for their cocks to explode with cum at any given moment. Jackson and Mikey could not take their hands and eyes off each other, while Pete was completely lost in the freaky muscle exploding and bulging off both of their monstrous bodies. With his hands running over Jackson’s barn door back, his torso, quads and pink posing trunk covered cock pressed tightly against his, and his wet tongue passionately dancing with Jackson’s, Mikey released a muffled groan. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was sure he was about to unleash the most tremendous sized load of spunk in his mucky, tan drenched posers. But Jackson had other plans for Mikey. Sensing that neither of them were going to be able to hold their spunk in for much longer, Jackson spun around, pulled down his shiny purple posers so they were wedged half way down his gigantic sized quads and pushed Mikey’s torso and trunk covered bulge against his obscenely sized arse. As Jackson climbed onto the edge of Pete’s bed so he was bent over on all fours, Mikey yanked down his tan stained posers, and pushed his huge, hard, throbbing cock into the tight, pink, twitchy hole nestled in the crack of Jackson’s ridiculously huge glutes. Loud groans of ecstasy filled the room, and as Mikey thrust his cock in and out of Jackson’s fleshy hole, Pete turned his attention to Mikey’s muscles; squeezing, feeling and worshipping his bronzed balloons of indecent mass. Fucking a man who had somehow transformed into one of the top pro bodybuilders in the world, while simultaneously having his muscles worshipped by his eager and very sexy muscle loving mate, Mikey had transcended to a whole new level of pleasure. Plunging his dick deep into Jackson’s enormous ass, Mikey suddenly came to a halt. He knew that his cock was about to explode in the next few seconds. One more thrust into the 320 pound muscle monster's tight hole and it would be game over. But Mikey had another idea. He lifted both of his arms up, Pete’s fingers still gripping into his right bicep, and, with his dick still in Jackson’s arse, Mikey cranked down hard into one more final brutal crab most muscular, while opening his mouth wide and releasing the loudest and most animalistic bellow he could. “YEEEAAARRRGGHHHH!!" As he hit the peak of his pose, Mikey’s whole body started trembling. He groaned and growled louder as pleasure consumed every ounce of his 300 lbs freakishly muscular body and his cock exploded with the most magnificent sized load, filling up Jackson’s hole, and giving Mikey the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Jackson groaned and yelled with pleasure as his own dick exploded with cum, and a few seconds later, the room was filled with Pete’s orgasmic cries. Still gripping onto Mikey’s obscene mass with both hands, fountains of spunk started erupting freely from Pete’s dick and drenching the two sweaty, heaving, interlocked muscle Gods before him.

Part 14: Hugo His world was dark and cold. He felt constricted, strangled, as if buried under a mound of soil. Panic had subsided into an otherworldly calm. He couldn't see or hear, but there was a certain degree of perception he couldn't completely explain. He had a strange series of… he wouldn't exactly call them sensations, but he concluded that he was being moved; was moving; had moved. How, by what, and where to, he couldn't say. It was clear that although his body was now beyond his means to manipulate, his mind appeared to be intact. He couldn't really perceive time accurately, but he was sure it was passing. You have power here, he assured himself. There must be some way to use it. There were others who had managed to separate their body and mind, project their thoughts elsewhere; observe, even communicate with people halfway across the world. But this was never something he had learned to do, and he doubted he could teach it to himself with nothing to go on. Except… it wasn't nothing, was it? Something had touched him that night at WAYLA. Some entity had drilled into his mind and he had felt its presence. It had been confusing and unclear at the time but in retrospect - perhaps freed from the distractions of his biology - he understood what had happened. He had been overwhelmed by his memories, relived two years of ordeals and triumphs all at once. He swam through the darkness back to that moment. Was it… yes. There was someone else there. A thin, delicate thread connected them to each other. He reached out. Took careful hold of it, grasped it tight, and pulled. If Will had any substance here; if Thought and Memory were no longer abstract in this bodiless void, then he focused them and all other forces he could muster on a single, simple idea. He pushed it away from him. He didn’t know if it would work, but it was all he could do to try. Cassidy called out: I need your help. *** Brent dozed lazily through the afternoon while Nate wet-vacced up the mess. Nate fed him pizza pockets and beer after he had the place mostly cleaned up, and afterwards Brent drifted in and out of naps. He would awake to mild alarm at being barely able to move, but then would settle into revelling at his size. He felt so heavy, so thick, and it was all he could do to keep his gargantuan cock from getting hard again, not wanting to burden Nate with another sea of jizz to clean up. They began to shrink back to normal in the evening. The process was much more subtle. As his overblown muscles began to deflate he felt his limbs aching, probably just from lying still for so long. He rose to his feet when he decided he had returned to normal, but a big thick cock flopping against his knees suggested he still had a bit of a ways to go. He lumbered out of his room and down the hall, finding Nate almost back to his usual height lying across the couch playing with his phone, wearing the shorts he'd arrived in and a borrowed shirt of Brent's. Nate looked up and his face blossomed into a wide smile. “Hey man! How you feelin?” Brent shrugged. “A little out of it,” he mumbled. He leaned back and stretched with a loud yawn. “But feelin’ good. Amazing, actually.” He shook his head, massaging his neck. “I still can’t believe this actually happened.” He looked down at his body. Even diminished, his muscles were still pretty thick. “Is STILL happening!” he added with a chuckle. Nate sat upright. “Yeah. S’pretty wild.” He nodded. He glanced down at his phone, then back up at Brent. “‘Know you wanted to hang out more with Pride an’ shit, but I’s out learnin’ how ‘a do this.” Brent plopped down on the couch next to Nate. His flaccid dick had receded up his thigh and he figured he was nearly back to his normal size. “How DID you learn all this?” Nate grinned. “Sorry man, can’ really tell.” “So… that night at the Black Eagle. You knew? Did you know the whole time?” Nate paused. “I…” he hesitated. “Guy I learned it from s’the same guy who pumped you up,” he admitted. “Serious though, man. S’all I can say.” “But like… he told you?” Brent pressed. “Is this someone who knows me?” He paused. “It’s not Luke or Jayson, is it?” “I put it together,” Nate mumbled. “S’all m’gonna say, brah. Period.” Brent nodded, leaning back. “This is nuts.” “THESE‘re nuts,” Nate reached over and tickled Brent's balls. Brent giggled and swatted him away. “It's just… wow… y'know?” Nate rolled his eyes. “Fuck, bro, will you get over it ‘lready?” “Come on, man, this is a big deal!” Brent protested. “Magic? It's fucking world-changing.” “Nah man, s’not,” Nate shook his head. “Jus’ cuz you didn’ know ‘bout it doesn’ mean s’never there, right?” He shrugged. “Sides, you did know ‘bout it. What ya think ‘at was at th’ Eagle?” Brent raised his eyebrows. “Yeah good point.” He paused a moment. “Hey. Do you know Mahtab Nilan… uhh, Nil… I can never remember her last name. It's long and Indian.” “Huh?” Nate looked at him. “Who?” “Mahtab. She… well we hung out a lot first semester. She's at York too. And she told me… well she started telling me about this group she was a part of, and how they were like… doing magic. Like real magic and I was… like at first I thought it was just a prank or something but when it… like she seriously believed it. I just thought she was legit psycho. So after the Christmas break I just kinda cut her off. I didn't want to deal with her. After the Eagle…” he dropped his gaze. “I wanted to say sorry but I didn't know, like, what would happen, y'know? And I just had been like, ‘don't tell anyone about it.’ Especially after the drug test and all that shit with Tyler and Farhan.” “I’unno man… thi’ shit’s all…” Nate shook his head vigorously. “Naw man fuck all ‘at. No mopin’, got me?” The finger he pointed in Brent’s face was stern, but the smile behind it was impish as ever. “Didn’ come here t’hang wi’ a downer all day. S’exciting. Get excited, y’fuckin dumbass.” Brent's smile returned. “Sorry. You're right. This IS exciting.” “‘Can make it permanent too, bro,” said Nate, putting his arm around Brent and rubbing his shoulder. “Big s’you want. Twenny-four-seven.” “Yeah?” Brent raised an eyebrow. “Jesus…” “Yeah, man. Gon’ get some shit sorted out an’en YOU might be the short one,” Nate winked. Brent's brow furrowed. “Huh?” “Think I'd go t’all the trouble an’ not use this on me?” Nate chuckled and shook his head. “Always knew I’s destined for bigger things.” “Wait… seriously?” Brent turned to him. “What'll you tell people?” “I’unno,” Nate shrugged. “Who gives a shit?” “Well like…” Brent stammered, “how big are we talking about?” “Stop worryin’, man!” Nate chided laboriously, squeezing his shoulder. “S’gonna be great. Ev’thing’s gon’ be fine.” He leaned his head on Brent's shoulder. “Jus’ got… gotta…” he voice drawled off. Brent felt Nate's grip on his shoulder go limp. “Nate?” he shook him by the knee. “What is it?” Nate sat upright, then stood. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable and confused. “I… jus’ hol’ on a sec.” Nate darted to the washroom. Brent sat forward as Nate shut the door behind him. “Nate? What the hell? Are you okay?” “S’fine!” Nate called through the door. Brent stood up, confused and not really sure what to do. He stood close to the door and held his breath, listening for anything from within, but there was only silence. He exhaled and plodded back to his room, the potential crisis making him suddenly and acutely aware of his nudity. He returned in boxers and a thin white undershirt, and was briefly relieved when he saw Nate emerge from the bathroom. But when he saw his face, Brent began to worry again. Nate wasn't smiling. He seemed pale and stressed and maybe even… afraid. “Nate?” Nate turned to him, and for a brief fraction of a moment he looked back at Brent with a strange longing, fear, and helplessness. But it was just a flash, like an errant frame on a movie reel. His grin returned, he shrugged, rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry man, I jus’ forgot some’in,” he chuckled. “I act’ly gotta split.” He reached out and pulled Brent's neck down, craning up to kiss him. It was a short, affectionate kiss - not his usual sloppy tongue-thrash. And as their lips parted, Nate held Brent's head close and pressed their foreheads against each other. It was nice, but it was weird. Brent could see that something had changed. The fluffy cartoon clouds of excitement for the future seemed to have suddenly turned into a lingering putrid smoke of doubt that they even had a future. Brent knew it had happened. He knew it. But as Nate drew away from him he giggled and smirked bashfully like he always did. Nate was trying to make Brent think that change hadn't occurred; Brent was too scared and confused to just call out the bullshit. They might as well had BOTH been mind-readers. “Nate…” Brent took a faltering step forward as Nate slipped into his shoes. “I… you know if there's ever something wrong that I'm… I'd have your back. I'd want to help. I…” he stammered. “Like, you get that, right?” Another brief break in the facade. The smile twitched, betraying its deceit, his eyes trembled with uncharted depths of understanding and… maybe regret. Depths Brent hadn't realized Nate possessed. And just like before, it fell away into the practiced casual, easy-going charm he always exhibited. He cupped one hand at the side of his mouth, called out “Gayyyyyy!” and disappeared out the door. *** As Nate rounded the corner and Brent's house dropped out of view, his brow furrowed, his grin hardened into a frown. He glanced around for somewhere he could focus. He'd tried in the bathroom but Brent was too distracting. He needed something nice and serene. There was an old folks’ home at the intersection. In the middle of a sparsely populated parking lot was a small island of thin yellowing sod inhabited by a gangly red maple sapling and a cracked cement garbage bin. It'd do. He jogged over to it, sat down with his back against the garbage bin, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sky was still mostly overcast but even through his eyelids he could see the light of the sun shifting behind the clouds. A cicada was keening nearby. The sounds of motors and horns and reverberating bass beats from Finch Steet rattled like stones in a dryer, and there was a distant echo of playground noise; an incoherent rabble of childish shrieks and shouts. This was better. This could work. Nate pulled himself out of all that and listened for what he had heard before. Yes, there it was. Someone had tried to present an idea. But it was all crumpled up like a wad of paper. He had to peel it apart very carefully, lest it slip through his fingers and he lose it again. Whoever had sent this had no clue what they were doing. Nate had been reading thoughts for a while, and had arrived at a number of insights. First and most importantly: every human mind was unique. While there was overlap in shared experiences everyone generally had their own set of interpretations, associations, and representations for even very basic and simple ideas. Reading surface thoughts, probing memories, and digging through someone’s knowledge was one thing. It was like looking through a library or a computer database - albeit without the help of a card catalogue or logically nested folders - but once you found what you were looking for, you were set. But someone was trying to send him an idea or an instruction, and it was so loaded with subtext and abstractions that it essentially had to be decoded. When it had hit him, he immediately felt a rush of adrenaline, which - coming on while lazily dozing next to Brent - had confused and alarmed him. He felt like he was being attacked. Even now he found this concept cloaked with desperation and dripping with panic. Whatever was going on, it was dangerous, maybe even deadly. Things began to align themselves in a way Nate found recognizable. He realized it had come from Cassidy, but the particulars were still muddled. He tried to follow the line back and… everything sort of exploded, beyond even a scope that Cassidy understood. Cassidy had unwittingly provided Nate with what amounted to a phone line in an otherwise locked room; a room in which Cassidy was not alone. It all unloaded on Nate so fast he was immediately flooded with memories and emotions and experiences. His heart started to race, stars speckled the inside of his eyelids, there was a tenebrous pitch rising in his ears, and pain lanced through his brain from every direction at once. Nate pulled himself out with a gasp and after a momentary reprieve, a sharp ache seeped into his head. He held the bridge of his nose and cringed, waiting for it to pass, too distracted by agony to sort out everything he had seen. But as the eye-popping migraine subsided into a dull, mild hangover headache, it all became very clear. Nate had never wanted this kind of thing. Drama and danger. His preferred genre of adventure was whimsical jaunt, not harrowing quests. Lives on the line? What kind of masochist wants to deal with that shit? Nate had a burly, growth-hungry beefcake a literal five minute walk from where he sat. A beefcake that LIKED him. Liked him a lot. He could go back there, he knew. He could just ignore all this bullshit and let nature take its course. He didn't know these people; what did he care? This didn't involve him. He didn't owe any of these people the time of day. He owed something to Brent. He owed it to Brent to stay alive, and not risk his life for a bunch of strangers… Right…? A mixed blessing of being a telepath was that more often than not you had a better idea of what kind of person one was than they did themselves. He'd always thought that skill had given him some insight into what kind of person he was: someone who didn't get involved if he didn't have an angle. He could go back to Brent, never mention any of it, and no one could ever give him any shit over it. He could leave all those people to whatever fate had in store for them. He could. That was an option. It was a decision he could make. It didn't matter that he was their only hope. It didn't matter that if he didn't try to help them, nobody else would. Fuck. Nate stood up and dusted off his shorts. He was just wasting time trying to convince himself. In reality, he already knew that he was about to do something incredibly heroic. He kicked dejectedly at the grass. “Aww, maaaaaan…” *** Just as Adam and Mahtab were retreating down the alleyway, Nate was walking up the street behind them. Everyone around him was buzzed and horny, so he had closed off his senses to them. There wasn't much point to scanning anyone; he had a pretty complete picture of what was going on. He wasn't there on recon anyway. He wasn't familiar with many of the active players, and how they might react to his involvement was just a guess. He'd decided he needed to get some backup that was more predictable. Even with the cloud cover it was still light out but the Black Eagle already had a line. Nate sighed and sidled up at the back, eavesdropping on a trio of twentysomething bears and cubs in front of him. “... but dude, look at the fuckin bouncer!” The larger of the bears was saying. “He was big but never THAT big.” “Lookit, jus’ cuz it's a good hoax don't make it any less a hoax,” countered a blonde bearded guy who looked like he had just started bulking up. “I saw a thing on Facebook that said it's a publicity stunt for Magic Mike.” “I dunno, man, that's pretty thorough,” replied a shorter tanned cub. “Like there's a bunch of Youtube vids, all from different accounts… and if they're fake I've never seen anything like that before.” “So what,” the blonde dropped his shoulders. “What, it's all real? Bunch o’ guys - at the fuckin Eagle - spontaneously turn into bodybuilders an’ pornstars an’ supermodels? For no reason? Got any ‘splanation for that?” “Hey man, I'm not sayin’ I can explain it,” the cub shrugged his thick shoulders. “But… well yeah. Look at that bouncer. How do YOU explain it?” Nate turned away, suppressing a chuckle, before realizing he'd been standing there for five minutes and the line hadn't moved. A quick read of Daniel - the freakishly overmuscled bouncer who was attracting so much attention - revealed that they were keeping their numbers low until more staff showed up. Until then, no one else was getting in before people inside left. Nate was surprised Daniel was thinking so clearly with all these guys flirting with him - feeling his arms and chest; asking for selfies with him; or just staring at him with shameless lust. The second bouncer, Hugo, was a bit peevish. While Daniel had had this job for years and was a loyal friend to the owner, Hugo only came in every now and then, and only did it so he could pick up guys at the bar. Hugo had already been in good shape, and the previous night Nate had grown him nearly a foot taller to a respectable six-foot-four, which he seemed happy with but was upset at all the attention Daniel was getting. Christ, Nate thought to himself. I make this guy taller overnight and he still finds something to bitch about. Still, it gave Nate a decent idea on how to kill two birds with one stone. “Off the stairs,” Daniel grumbled softly at the next couple of guys in line - two middle aged bears with tasseled leather jackets hanging open over their otherwise bare chests. The one in the cowboy hat took a step back. “I tell ya, man. Wasn't sure I believed it. Didn’ think you could get any bigger.” “Hmm,” Daniel acknowledged mirthlessly, and turned his gaze to the rest of the line. Hugo rolled his eyes. It had been like this all night. All these guys fawning over Daniel, whose stoic, joyless responses only seemed to drive them even crazier for him. That, and Daniel hadn't bothered to buy a new shirt and showed up for his shift bare-chested. Meanwhile no one even bothered to bat an eye at Hugo. Sure, he'd gotten considerably taller but he worked there so sporadically no one had retained a mental “before” image to compare him to. The dark-eyed blonde leaned against the wall with a sigh. He had imagined the life of a Church Street bouncer would be much more glamorous - though as the thought occurred to him now it seemed a bit silly. He was probably just exhausted. All the excitement from the night before had made for a restless sleep, not to mention a couple rails of coke. The novelty of all that weirdness was more than enough to keep him happy. But he felt something strange beyond that. He'd been so high last night it had been difficult so sort out one from the other. But he was stone sober, and there was a strange tautness in his guts that went far deeper than the run-of-the-mill anxiety he sometimes experienced at this job. He furrowed his brow. It felt familiar. Was it happening again? He got his answer as his clothes began to get extra snug around his frame. He looked down and saw his chest puffing out under his shirt. He spread his arms, glancing back and forth between them. “Uhh...Daniel?” “Mmm,” Daniel replied, nodding slowly as he looked out at the crowd, attempting (not for the first time) to fold his arms across his chest before realizing his arms were too big and settling for resting them on his hips. One of the leather clad cowboys was the first to notice, his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open. He pointed, trying to get his friend’s attention but apparently at a loss for words. Daniel turned to see what had him so agitated, and his eyes shot wide open. “Muddasic!” he exclaimed, reaching for his walkie. He had a little trouble finding an angle that would get it close to his mouth. “Code green! We gotta code green out front. I'll be needin some support out here on the double!” Hugo was already starting to feel the shirt straining to contain him. His feet were getting cramped in the converse hi-tops he had had to buy today to make up for his feet jumping three sizes last night. And it looked like he'd be making another trip tomorrow. He looked to Daniel for some help but Daniel had his hands full containing the line, which had begun to notice Hugo’s ongoing gains and were swarming the velvet rope to get a better look. Hugo was so wrapped up in his muscles bulging bigger that it wasn't until the cuffs of his jeans started riding up his swelling calves that he realized he was getting taller again as well. He couldn't be too far from seven feet. Two out of three guys in the gathering crowd had their phones out taking videos, and the clamour of disbelief was becoming deafening. “Take it off!” he heard someone yell. His collar was nearly strangling his neck and he was pretty sure a seam had split over one shoulder. “I don't think I can!” Hugo shouted back with a grin. “Show off your guns!” someone else called, and a chorus of hoots and cheers followed. Daniel’s gigantic frame was a literal wall at the base of the stairs, but he seemed to be struggling to keep people from climbing over him. Hugo, basking in the attention, raised both arms up, clenched his fists, and flexed. Immediately another wave of growth radiated through his body. His sleeves popped open as his biceps ballooned to the size of bowling balls. His shirt split right down the middle, revealing his hairless, gargantuan pecs atop a cut, bulging eight-pack. The seams of his jeans popped, yielding to his expanding buttocks and thighs thick as columns, all as he felt himself getting bigger everywhere. EVERYwhere. He opened his mouth and gasped as the fly of his jeans blew open and his inflating dick forced the zipper apart. The door opened and Carl and Darcy emerged, each holding a beach towel. They rushed down the stairs and both immediately took a step back as they looked up at Hugo. The growth seemed to have ended, and Hugo panted for breath as he looked down at himself, his destroyed jeans sliding down his legs. His T-shirt had become a miniscule vest, his new shoes had split open, and his CK underwear was barely holding on around his thick bubble butt and strangled cock and balls. The crowd cheered, and camera flashes sparkled through the street. He felt like he was headlining a rock concert. He had to be almost 8 feet tall, built like a mac truck, and only a quickly diminishing sense of modesty kept him from reaching down right there and jacking off his huge cock in front of all his adoring fans. “Do I…” Darcy tentatively raised his towel. “Should I cover him up?” “Nah,” Carlos sighed. “He's into it.” He brushed past a passerby who had skipped the line and was trying to get at Hugo, arranging himself opposite Daniel on the sidewalk. The crowd was losing their minds. People were roiling against Daniel trying to shout at Hugo. “Take it off!” “Do a lat spread!” “Show us your cock!” “Beefier!” “Are you on Grindr?” “Beefier!” Somehow the crowd had latched onto it, and were chanting “Beef-i-er! Beef-i-er!” over and over in unison. Hugo chuckled, spreading his hands helplessly. “I don't think it works that way, guys,” he said apologetically, pleased at the lower octave rumbling out of his throat. “Uhh…” Darcy had to intone loudly to be heard over the crowd. “Hugo? It might…” Hugo felt his face bristling, and put a hand up to feel a short but full and even beard covering his formerly clean-shaven face. The sensation seemed to be travelling down his body, and he watched a carpet of thick blonde fur unfurl down his chest, narrowing into a thinner trail as it loped through his abs. But just as it crawled under his tight undies and into his pubes - which he felt getting bushier - his newly acquired eight-pack disappeared under a generous layer of fat. “Whoa,” Hugo’s eyed widened at the belly ballooning into view from under his thick furry pecs. He put both hands on it and felt it expanding under his palms. It was soft but sturdy, and he gave it a few experimental bounces as it settled into a sizeable musclegut. Another splash of warmth burst outward from his belly. His pecs jutted out further, his arms thickened even more, his ass swelled against the wall, sliding up as he grew yet a few more inches taller, and finally his cock and balls grew too big for his underwear to handle, and they split open, spilling out his half-hard, two-foot chubby manhood, and allowing his softball ball-sized testicles to hang free. A flurry of camera flashes urged Daniel to check in on Hugo, and the big man’s stoicism faltered into awe as he looked up at Hugo’s gigantic frame, larger than not only anyone’s gains from the previous night but larger than anyone Daniel had ever heard of. His moment of reverie was enough for one of the cowboys to push past Daniel and charge Hugo. Darcy moved to cover up Hugo with his beach towel but the burly cowboy shoved him into the stairwell and pressed up against Hugo’s round gut, his head not even coming up to his chest. “I'll do anything you want. Please. Let me do anything. Please.” Him getting through opened the floodgates, and soon the sidewalk was filled with guys pleading for Hugo’s attention. “Fuck,” Carlos was forced to back away, and surveyed the mounting chaos outside of his bar; at Daniel struggling to get guys off the steps while simultaneously trying to stop others from joining in. “Hey… hey guys come on,” Hugo warned. “I don't want to hurt anybody…” “Hurt me!” a big, thick, fully decked-out leather daddy shouted up at him. “I've been looking for a man who could for years!” Even light nudges were sending guys sprawling backward against the crowd. Hugo realized that if he wasn't careful he could easily kill someone. “Fuck!” Carlos swore as someone shoved him away. Oh shit, Hugo thought. Am I gonna be like this forever? Multiple men were pressing against him, hands groping everywhere. Hugo didn't know what to do. And then someone got a hold of his cock. Hugo was completely unprepared for the sensations his new genitals came equipped with. Suddenly his anxieties dissolved. He wasn't worried about tomorrow. He wasn't worried about an hour from then. All that he knew was the now. And right now someone had their thick, sweaty hands running up and down his shaft, and was slowly pressing a tongue into his urethra. He couldn't even see who it was, there were so many guys all over him - squeezing his huge arms, craning their necks to kiss and suck on his hard nipples, running their fingers through the hair on his big hard belly. He didn't care that he was huge and naked on a well lit street with dozens of people watching and filming him. Hadn't he always been? This had become his past present and future. “FUCK!” Carlos shouted, setting his jaw and shaking his head. He cupped his hands over his mouth and commanded Darcy: “Call the cops!” “Fuck,” Darcy observed, and turned to clamber up the stairs. “Yeah. Fuck.” Carlos agreed. Hugo was breathing hard, his chest heaving with every moan. Someone was working his balls now. Someone was licking his feet. Hugo’s hands fumbled limp through them like he was feeling his way through a dark room, until one short otter in a spiked collar and elaborate harness grabbed his hand and started sucking on his sausage-sized fingers. He felt someone trying to get as his asshole but his butt was pressed up against the wall, so he thrust his hips forward and leaned back with his shoulders. His flash-harem adjusted quickly, and immediately he had one pair of hands on each testicle, and after finding his gigantic ass too thick to rim, the denim-clad bear stuck his two middle fingers in Hugo’s asshole. Why is everyone in love with me? thought Hugo. Why am I so much bigger and stronger than everyone else? Why am I so huge and powerful? Why am I being worshipped? I must be God. His newly-minted cult did nothing to discourage this theory. Further away there were panicked shouts, frantic conversations, a dull white noise of chatter. His immediate vicinity was awash with the sounds of pleasure. Moans, groans, gasps, slurps, kisses; the odd whispered promise of servitude to him. Every inch of him felt amazing, and there were just so many inches. Giving up on attempting to deflate the situation, Carlos lumbered off the sidewalk through the gathering crowd. Maybe it… maybe it wasn’t so bad…? But as he got to the middle of Church Street and turned around, that small hope dissolved. Hugo stood two feet - at least - taller than the alcove leading up into the Black Eagle. Huge, nude, and being pleasured by a crowd of leather and denim daddies. He could see where this was going, and with at least thirty cameras filming the whole thing he couldn't imagine this not making the news. And while he appreciated the publicity, Carlos had a feeling this time would end up being more trouble than it was worth. Hugo felt sweat dripping down his body, greedily licked off by a dozen eager tongues. “Oh fuck,” he groaned into the air, looking up at the darkening twilit sky. He felt a strange sensation in his crotch; a familiar bubbling, but less like a pot on the stove than a volcano. He clenched his ass reflexively, and whoever had their hand up there sucked their teeth as they found it trapped between two cheeks of solid brawn. “I’m,” Hugo gasped. “I’m…” his voice trailed off. He felt that building pressure move from his groin at an aching crawl up his pulsing, iron-hard shaft. The hands stroking it seemed to sense this, increasing their pace and becoming more florid in their massage. None of them had ever given a hand job to a schlong they could share with multiple people, and evidently this new opportunity was bringing out a heretofore untapped creative side. Further and further he felt the pressure extend down his dick, over and over amazed at just how much cock he had. Finally it reached his head, and exploded. Carlos threw both hands to his face in shock, disbelief, and the thought “what the hell am I supposed to do about this” as Hugo’s twenty-six inch cock hosed down the crowd of ravenous adorers in front of him. The cowboy who had his tongue up his slit was bowled over onto his ass, a thick layer of jizz covering his face. As he fell away the torrent sprayed forth and struck Daniel in the back with such force he staggered forward to retain his footing. The remaining worshippers giggled like children playing in a sprinkler as they were splashed with Hugo’s hot cum. While for some, getting covered in a nine-foot tall giant’s semen pulled them out of the moment, for others it only drew them deeper. Men licked Hugo’s spunk off each other, rubbed it on their skin like it was lotion, shook it from their hair as if they had just taken a shower. Finally the geyser extinguished and Hugo leaned back, panting heavily as his chest heaved. He massaged his belly as he waited to catch his breath, dull post-coital fireworks still popping through his brain. Carlos glanced around at the onlookers on Church Street in an attempt to read their expressions. Equal parts confusion, disgust, arousal, and fascination. A generous puddle of jizm had amassed on the sidewalk. “Daniel!” he barked. “We need to get him off the street! Now!” “You outta your mind, man?” Daniel retorted. “No way dat boy fittin’ into the bar!” Carlos clenched his teeth. “That’s why I said ‘off the street.’ Come on!” *** Tyson drew up the bottle of tequila a foot and a half from the bar, letting the liquor splash as he filled five neatly arranged shot glasses. He expertly spun the bottle in his hand before depositing it back on the shelf behind him. He slid a slice of lemon into each glass and slammed a salt shaker next to them, spreading his arms as he leaned on the bar like he was presenting a piece of art. “That’ll be thirty, please,” he said, adding a wink for good measure. The fiftysomething waifish diva flitted his heavily mascaraed eyes and slid two twenties across the bar, letting his hand linger on the bills so that when Tyson went to pick them up, the diva ran his fingers over the back of his hand. “Keep the change, gorgeous,” he cooed with a (probably fake) southwestern American accent, and delicately picked up all five shots at once, disappearing into the crowd. Paul, who had finally started to enjoy himself, stifled a laugh. “Good lord, you are such a bloody trollop,” he chuckled. Paul always got more British when he was on M. Tyson, meanwhile, had decided to play the night sober. He had a lot more mass and had reasoned that he didn’t know his limits anymore. He had resolved to test them in a controlled environment, but maybe after the weekend. He was happy with that decision because he was making a goddamn killing. Tyson was a natural charmer to begin with. Suddenly being one of the beefiest guys in the room had upped his game to another level, and he was raking in tips he could scarcely believe. To Paul, he just spread his arms with a grin. “Don’t hate the player, man.” Paul cackled loudly - even though it hadn’t been that funny a joke - and turned to the newest patron approaching the bar. “What can I get you mate?” The short fit buzzed white kid pointed across the bar. “Need t’talk at Tyson.” Tyson glanced over, immediately recognizing him as the guy who had almost fainted a couple nights earlier. And he’d been in just the previous night, as well, right before all the chaos broke out. Paul shot his co-worker an impressed smirk, and the two maneuvered around each other - which had been much easier yesterday - and switched spots. Tyson motioned his hand in front of his chest. “If you want to ask about… all this, I don’t really…” The kid shook his head. “No. S’not about that.” He leaned forward. “Aight, look. Tyson, you gotta come wi’ me. Righ’ now.” Tyson paused, but his look of concern quickly melted into a bashful smile. “Look man, I'm flattered and… like, I mean you're a pretty cute guy I wouldn't even be against it it's just, y'know, I'm working and I can't just…” “No. No, I…” the kid interjected, shaking his head. He seemed to lose his place for a moment, and then sighed, leaning further across the bar. “It's Blake.” The colour drained from Tyson’s face. “How… who…” “Blake,” the kid reiterated with more force. “Th’same Blake. S’in trouble, man. ‘M tryin t’help him but I need your help, Tyson. An’ we gotta go righ’ fuckin’ now.” Tyson stared blankly at him, stood up from the bar and looked around for a moment, before leaning back down. “Who the fuck even are you?” he asked with exasperation. “Nate,” he replied quickly. He put a hand to his chest. “I'm Nate, you're Tyson, ‘e’s Blake.” he softly pounded his fist on the bar. “‘Can ‘splain everythin, but we runnin’ outa time. We gotta go now, man. Righ’ now.” Tyson had been having a weird couple of nights. There had to be a point where he put his foot down and said enough is enough, not get wrapped up in some more bullshit. But if it was true… if Blake hadn't been seen since the night they were together, and was in trouble, then maybe it had something to do with Tyson. “Jus’ gotta trus’ me, man,” Nate shrugged. “Make up your mind, though. S’if you ain’ comin’ I gotta go on my own.” Tyson stood up again. He took a deep breath and glanced back at Nate, who was tapping an imaginary wristwatch. “Shit,” Tyson whispered under his breath, and slid over next to Paul. “Paul I gotta take care of something. I gotta go.” Paul made a face. “Dude,” he protested, gesturing to the crowded bar. “It's an emergency,” Tyson pleaded. “Yeah an emergency shag,” Paul shot back with a roll of his eyes. “C'mon man you know I wouldn't do this to you if it wasn't a big deal,” said Tyson, putting a hand on Paul's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Paul shrugged the hand off but condeded with a sigh. “What'll I tell Carlos?” “Let me worry about that,” Tyson replied, already shimmying away. He swivelled out from behind the bar and slapped Nate on the shoulder. “Let's go.” As he led Nate out of the stairwell leading into the bar, Tyson was surprised to find Darcy hosing off the steps, with no sign of Daniel or Hugo. “Darcy?” Tyson raised his eyebrow, looking at the pile of torn clothes and men covered in jizz. “What the hell happened?” Darcy was about to answer when Nate grabbed Tyson’s wrist. “‘Ll tell you all abou’it on th’way.” He took off at a run still holding onto Tyson, who nearly toppled over, still unused to being so top-heavy. Nate dragged him through the crowd until finally they broke through and hurried down the street.