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Read Part One HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Two The bed shook, the headboard banging against the wall. Big Ben liked having his fraternity brothers know when he was beating the monster. His battleship-sized feet hung off the end, his 50 inch TV blaring out the moans of some porn he’d stolen from another brother. But in Big Ben’s huge meaty hand was his phone, a blond twink choking down a fat cock drawing all of the giant linebacker’s attention. His other hand was furiously pounding at this swollen meat stick; his hearty bull nuts bouncing against the sweaty sheets. A load of cum was already drying on his heaving pecs. Big Ben was so grateful he wasn’t hairy. The flood of cum he shot every time he jacked off would’ve been hell to clean up. The look of his pecs having rich brown hair on would be sexy, and it only made Big Ben jack off harder. The room reeked of him, he was still covered in the gunk and sweat from practice the night before. He’d shower after he had come. After that he would wipe down his pecs, wishing he could get some guy to do it for him. He’d returned from practice and slept the rest of the day, more exhausted than usual. He could hear his brothers starting to wake, it was nearly time. Big Ben always timed his pre-shower strut so that he caught a couple of his brothers waking up. His heavy footfalls getting their attention as they wiped sleep from their eyes. They always laughed, though Big Ben could see some fear in their eyes as he thudded down the hall. Comments like, “Thank fuck my girlfriend isn't here” or “Taking the beast for a walk huh” would be uttered. Big Ben would just grunt or make some comment about the guy’s girlfriend. Then he’d get into the shower and as silently as possible he’d cover the tiles with cum thinking about doing the same to his fraternity brothers faces. Big Ben bit his lip as he shot. Cum splattering over the cold load from before, his balls unleashing an epic load. But Big Ben sat bolt upright, his hand looked odd on his cock, his fingers were wrapped around his fat cock, still rock hard and waiting to go for two or three more times. His fingers though were touching they hadn’t touched since he was 15. The floor shook as he got to his feet, wiping the cum off his thick chest with his blanket. He looked down as his now soft cock, the shock having killed his boner. It looked slimmer, not as salami fat as it used to. Even though he was near to grazing his head on the ceiling and making the oak floor struggle under his weight, he, Big Ben, the hulking linebacker, felt small. He grabbed his jockstrap from the floor and gave it a sniff, holding the reeking pouch against his face. The musk, his musk calmed him, the cotton tickling his stubbled jaw. He pulled it on, heading to the shower as quick as he could, for the first time in his life not wanting to be seen. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Melvin woke not to the sound of Chris’ alarm waking him hours before he needed to be woken, but to a horrific painful smell in his nose. He coughed and spluttered as he breathed in, it tasted like a locker-room. Reminding him of the smell of his fingers after handling Big Ben’s jock strap. “Good you’re awake” Chris said, he was already dressed and looked like he was heading out. Melvin let out some sort of sound that was meant to be words, but he was still too tired. “I’m going to check in on the jocks, I’ve got an hour or so spare.” He grinned, “Oh and check out Bert.” Melvin blinked a few times trying to get his eyes used to the bright light, Chris had opened the curtains and Melvin was blinded. He watched as Chris left, slamming the door. Melvin climbed out of bed, his baggy pajamas hiding his frumpy shape. He popped open a window. Must be the elixir making that smell. As he pulled back from leaning over the best he felt a strip of wetness spread down his shirt. It was Bert, or a cactus that must be Bert. Gone was the small little cactus, now a thick almost throbbing green foot of plant sat in the pot, two bulbous bulbs at its base. A large bright red flower had erupted at the tip, oozing ripe sap. Melvin sniffed the wet sap on his shirt, it smelt like the funk he’d woke up choking on. The door suddenly opened, Chris was back. “Bert…” Melvin started “He….” Chris butted in, “Looks like a penis. Yeah, I noticed” “So the stuff works,” Melvin asked excited. Chris nodded and stepped over to the desk picking up Bert’s pot, trying not to get reeking sap on himself. “What are you doing” Melvin asked following Chris as he headed to the door “I’m throwing Bert out, not having our room smell like a jockstrap,” Chris said and he turned, poking a finger into Melvin’s chest. “Don’t touch the elixir. We know what it does to a plant, but not what it does to humans.” Melvin nodded, “But can you buy me a new Bert?” Chris smiled sweetly, “Sure.” And he left, taking Bert with him, Melvin knew he’d never get a new one. ——————————————————————————————————————————— “19, 20, 21,” Barrett counted out loud as he continued his morning exercise routine,clad in only pajama shorts with the straps of his jockstrap peeking out from the waist line. His body dipped down and up with each push up, he was already sweaty, and feeling tired. He’d woken up refreshed, but oddly stiff, like he’d overworked himself at practice. But he hadn’t. He’d barely pushed himself. “25……..26...” he started, but his arms gave way half way through the last push up. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, the sounds of his frat brothers waking up echoing through the house. A second ago he’d heard the unmistakable sounds of Big Ben’s monstrous frame thudding past his room. He wondered if Big Ben was feeling just as odd as he was. It seemed that everyone at practice was off, and it wasn’t just because of the over partying on the weekend before. His room was massive, it had been his older brother’s when he was a member of the fraternity. A floor to ceiling mirror decorated one wall, hiding a closet. Barrett always hid how often he’d stare at himself in the mirror, flexing a bicep, arrogantly smirking at himself. But today as he sat up he looked at himself with concern. Even though he’d slept longer than normal he still looked tired. Greyish bags hung heavily under his eyes. Barrett stood up and stepped close to the mirror, flexing his bicep. It looked odd. It felt stiff, but looked softer. The skin wasn’t as taut over the muscle as it had been. He scratched at his balls with his free hand. “Gotta be sick,” he said to himself. He popped open the bedside table, ignoring the half full box of condoms he grabbed an assortment of pills. Throwing back his head he swallowed them down, covering all the bases: flu, allergies, headaches, he wasn’t letting this illness get any further. Barrett went to leave his room, time for breakfast, he stopped though and looked down at his ripped bare chest. He sighed, and like all the other footballers he grabbed something to cover himself up, unsure about his own perfection. He flexed his arm one last time, the sleeve of his shirt not near to bursting as his muscle bulged. He jogged down the stairs, whistling, putting on his cocky demeanour. The kitchen was alive with big beefy jocks grabbing their breakfast, barely any bare chests. Only the best built non-football players were shirtless. Barrett grabbed a piece of toast another brother had cooked for himself, the guy wouldn’t complain, at least not to Barrett’s face. He leaned against a kitchen counter, watching the group. His fraternity was a house of beasts, all the main guys from the football team in one place, and most of the other star players of other sports, with Barrett as the top dog. The rest of the football team’s massive roster were in lesser frats or lived off campus, Barrett couldn’t think of any freshmen still living in dorms, maybe one or two of the new guys hadn’t been sucked up by the fraternities yet. He scratched at his balls while he ate, his fellow football players looked just as tired as he was. Bags under their eyes, paler than normal. All with hunched shoulders and dim looks on their faces. “Gotta talk to Peters,” Barrett muttered Maybe they needed a break, whatever illness Barrett had looked to be spreading around the frat. He’d have a word with Coach Peters about an easier practice schedule. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Next door to Chris and Melvin, their rarely seen neighbour was still sleeping as the clocks passed noon. His name was Sean and he’d worked all summer so he could afford to pay for a single room. He didn’t want to share his personal space with anyone. His single room was dark with only the dull glow of his PS4 on standby lighting the room. The curtains were pulled tight and were dusty, never having been opened since he moved in. A plush gaming armchair sat in front of the rooms desk facing a large top of the line TV Sean had got from his parents for winning the scholarship to Lincoln University. An indent of Sean’s fat rounded ass was visible on the seat’s cushion, the fabric tainted with Dorito dust. Sean was a nerd, a massive gamer, and an avid reader of comic books. He was a stereotype. He was also a loner. He only left his dorm to use the bathroom, for classes and food shopping. He was greasy, spotty, and rounded with limp plump fat, but he was a nice guy. Always helping classmates in class, even though he hated public speaking. If he was a little more sociable he'd have a lot of friends, he’d already been invited to join a couple of fraternities and his professor wanted him to run for the student council, but Sean just wanted to be alone and play games with people on the other side of the world he’d never have to talk to. He was snoring loudly, the weight of his fatty chest causing the choke sounding rumblings as he lay on his back in bed. His greasy bright red hair plastered to his spotty forehead. Only his head was visible from behind the covers. He was only 5’6. Even the dorm room’s small single bed was too big for him. Drip, Drip, Drip. Drops of green liquid fell onto Sean’s blankets, above Sean a line of green was spreading over the ceiling. Rising up from a crack in the wall, a patchwork of vein like green stains were stretching out from behind a set of shelves cluttered with books and PS4 games. With an almost sentient intent the green liquid grew out over the ceiling, it drips moving further up Sean’s blankets till the drops started to land in Sean’s gaping maw. The drips increased in intensity, and size, soon it was like a steady stream trickling from the ceiling down Sean’s throat. He didn’t splutter or gag, the liquid quickly vanishing into the walls of his mouth and throat. But the taste was horrid, a foul salty taste. Like drinking cool sweat. Sean’s eyes fluttered behind his eyelids and the dripping stopped. In the dark though the green stains on the ceiling and the wall wasn’t noticeable, even with a bright light it would be hard to notice against the darkly painted room. Sean made a moaning sound and sat up slowly. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, a hand then wiping green liquid from his lips and onto his pajama shirt, thinking it was just drool. The chubby nerd climbed out of bed, his hand reaching for a cola bottle on the small snack table next to his gaming chair. He took a long swig from it and then dropped his fat ass onto his armchair. His console controller already in hand he flicked the PS4 on and started to play, he had a couple hours spare before class. With Sean’s attention on his gaming the green liquid snaked its way over the ceiling. A fat raindrop of the elixir fell, landing in the open cola bottle, just as Sean reached over to pick it up to take another sip. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Barrett was on the treadmill in the college’s expansive gym, he’d just gotten the shit verbally kicked out of him by the Coach. How dare he ask to lighten the load, the Coach had bellowed at him. He was even threatened with losing his captaincy, and again compared to his older brother. How his older brother would never have asked for something so stupid, especially when there was so much competition this year from other teams. He was being punished, half an hour on the treadmill. It was meant to be easy for Barrett, more a punishment that would screw up his schedule, but Barrett was struggling. It was like all his stamina was gone, he was sweating and panting. His balls were so itchy, the cotton of his jock rubbing his hefty balls and was making them beg for a scratch. He’d almost fallen over whenever he went to itch them, and it was messing with his mind. It was like when he was doing laps at practice, he just felt drained. He’d have to get an appointment with a doctor. He was sick. With still 10 minutes left Barrett slowed down the treadmill, now walking he coughed out and spluttered. He gripped his chest, under his toned pec muscles his heart was racing. He’d never been his unfit, he’d never struggled like this. His free hand scratched at his balls, they were overheating like the rest of him. Slick with sweat and so itchy, he’d have to wash his jock. His face was bright red as he dragged his worn out legs to a water fountain. His arms screamed as he braced himself against the fountain to take a dozen or so mouthfuls of cooling water. “Barrett” a voice asked Barrett stopped drinking and sighed, it was Yuri the captain of the college swim team. He was a frat brother. Barrett pulled himself up, standing tall to look down at his frat brother and rival. It was an unspoken rivalry, but Yuri had wanted to head the frat, but Barrett beat him to it. He was sure that Yuri hadn’t let it go. “Yuri” Barrett smiled “How you doing” He was trying to be cocky, trying to be Barrett, but he was still red faced and sweating through his shirt. “You ok” Yuri asked, the ripped half Russian looking amazing in his workout gear “You look sick” “Yea… I think I’m coming down with something” Barrett said dropping his attitude Yuri held out his full water bottle and Barrett took it. “I have a spare, drink this on the walk back” Yuri said with a smile Barrett knew it was sign of submission, he was showing weakness to someone he was fighting with, even if the fight was all in Barrett’s head. Yuri turned and headed further into the gym, Barrett watched him leave. He felt deflated, but he took a long swig from the water bottle. He took a few deep breaths, feeling his energy coming back. Barrett left the gym, his footfalls slow and laboured. His shirt felt a little loose, maybe it was just cause it was being weighed down by all the sweat. He scratched his balls, he had two things to do today get a doctors appointment and wash this itchy jock. First though he needed to sleep. He hadn’t planned on getting this worn out today, but if he had it wouldn't be on a twenty minute jog. He yawned as he stepped out of the gym and his shoulder thudded into a shorter very well dressed guy. “Sorry” Barrett muttered as he hurried pass The first time he’d apologised for such an action, usually he’d berate the other guy. Instead he continued back to the frat, swigging from the water bottle. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris stared as Barrett walked away from him. He rubbed his shoulder, Barrett was still solid, but the reaction was a change. He’d seen Barrett explode in anger after someone just looked at him wrong. But he apologised, the powder was working, not only draining Barrett’s size and strength, but taking more. It was sapping away at Barrett’s ego, his confidence, and it had only been a day. The powder worked fast, Chris could only imagine what would happen in a week or so. He sent a text to Melvin, saw Barrett the guy looks sick, it read. He was being careful, Chris didn't know where the magic book had came from. For all he knew there was an entire magical world which wouldn't look to kindly on him playing in their world. So he was being as normal as possible and he’d warned Melvin about doing the same. No mention of the stones or the plan on any computers or phones. Only the notes he’d written down in the magic book. He took a quick lap of the gym, only seeing Yuri the swim team captain on a rowing machine. Chris wondered whether he should move his sights onto the other sports team after the football team were drained. But then what would he do with all the elixir, it wasn’t like he and Melvin would need very much to get the bodies they deserved. That was if Chris even let Melvin have any elixir.

New story, been in the works and then forgotten about for a while. Came about after chatting to another member of the forum about how muscle-lost or muscle-theft wasn't getting much screen time here, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Got three parts written and got three more parts planned, tell me what you think Liquid Manhood Chapter One “Hold this” Chris ordered and stuffed the flimsy plastic bag into Melvin’s hands Melvin held the bag away from him, slightly wary of its contents. His hands like Chris’ were gloved not just to mask fingerprints but to stop any contact with the grey powder inside the bag. He was still unsure of the plan, but Chris had talked him into it. Melvin didn’t even think it would work, how could a powder do what Chris promised. “It’s gonna work” Chris said like he’d read Melvin’s mind “I’m sure it will” Melvin said his voice crackly like it had never fully broke during puberty “You saw what happened when I carved the symbols onto the stones” Chris stated turning back to look at his smaller roommate Chris stared down at Melvin, some menace in his dark eyes. He was trying to sense doubt, but Melvin won him over. Chris smiled and Melvin sighed internally. Chris could be intense at times. Melvin followed his roommate down the winding corridors of their university’s athletic department with the bag held an arm’s length ahead of him. The memory of the stones that the two had crushed into easy to transport powder was fresh in Melvin’s mind. They were just normal pebbles taken from the college green. But when Chris flicked out a pen knife and scraped strange runic symbols into the greyish surface of each pebble they changed. One blue, one red, one yellow and pink. Their hard grey surface flushed with their new colouring, and then how Chris had carefully crushed them with the but of his penknife. They reached the doors leading into their college’s locker rooms, a roaring cartoon lion had been painted on the doors. The Lincoln Lions, the 8 time championship winning football team. Chris hated them, and Melvin didn’t like them any better. Chris held out a lean hand and muttered something, there was a crack and the locked doors swung open. “The book hasn't failed me yet” Chris grinned and stepped into the dimly lit locker room. Melvin just nodded, the book scared him. Chris was obsessed with it, a massive, ancient, leather bound tome. He would spend hours reading it, translating vast passages into English, testing countless times the various spells and incantations, half of which barely worked. But this time it turned out the ‘lock pick’ spell worked just as it said it would. Maybe these ‘drain’ stones would work as the book claimed. “You’re more confident now aren't you” Chris said, and Melvin could hear the smile in his voice Chris strode confidently through the lockers. He knew what he was after. He must have staked out the place, Melvin thought. “Here we go” Chris said gleefully He pulled a wheeled laundry basket out from a small alcove between two rows of lockers and gently pushed it towards Melvin. “Hand me the bag” Chris ordered and Melvin passed it back “You search the laundry” Melvin nodded and watched as Chris tore the bag open. The grey powder pooled in the centre of the ripped plastic and Chris looked around for something to scoop the powder up with. Melvin started to look through the laundry for their desired prize and he grimaced. “Here, will this work as a scooper” He tossed a large sweaty athletic cup to Chris Chris frowned and let the cup drop to the floor before picking it up and scooping a cupful of powder out of the pile with it. “Ready,” he said as Melvin searched deeper pass the large jerseys and padded pants Wordlessly he tossed a jock strap over his shoulder, he’d rather bathe in the magical powder then touch the cock sweat soaked cotton. Chris grabbed at the jock eagerly and emptied the powder filled cup into the pouch. The powder glittered as it fell and then slowly seeped into the cotton as it made contact. Melvin watched... it was really working. “How….” He started. Chris anticipating his question started before he could finish speaking. “It’s the sweat, it’s why we needed to catch the laundry before it had been washed” Chris explained filling the cup again “The powder fuses with the fabric only if its been in contact with biological matter” “So the player's cock and balls,” Melvin said, tossing another jock over his shoulder “You got it,.” Chris smirked, tainting another strap with the powder Melvin knew he needed to find 83 different jockstraps to get the entire roster of players. Even then some might slip through the net. Their chances of getting them all had only been boosted because Coach Peters had ordered a full team practice in full uniform, the first one since the freshman year had started. Melvin knew that Chris had been ready to do this from the first day of the year, but he was waiting, waiting to get them all. He remembered when Chris had explained the plan to him, it was after he’d got drenched by a water balloon tossed by Barrett Wington, the golden blond captain of the football team and alpha frat boy of Lincoln University. Melvin knew Chris was manipulating him, getting him more and more angry at Barrett and the other jocks. Almost getting Melvin to beg for a way of getting revenge. He hadn’t expected such a massive plan, such a damaging plan, but at least he was getting back at Barrett and in turn every bigger man who had fucked with little shy Melvin during high school. “How many is that” Melvin asked, tossing another jock into the tainted pile. He’d already found another laundry trolley after emptying the last one of all the jock straps. “82,” Chris said. “Maybe one didn’t come,” he shrugged. Melvin gave the trolley one last look. “Nope… here it is.” He pulled the jock out from the laundry and hooked his fingers under the straps. It was a monster, a basket of cotton, and it reeked. “Who the fuck do you think packs himself into this,” he asked. “Damn,” Chris laughed. “Gotta be Big Ben.” Big Ben was a 6’10 linebacker, a walking wall. “You’d hope, cause no one else has the size to warrant a cock this big,” Melvin sniggered, tossing the tent over to Chris. It almost parachuted down into Chris’ hands, and, with a moment of thought, Chris poured what was left into the jock. “Big guy is gonna need a little more to bring him down,” He explained With the dirty jocks glittering slightly the two gloved freshmen tossed the jocks back into the laundry trolleys. They covered their tracks by pushing the trolleys back to their original places. “No evidence,” Chris said, washing the ripped plastic bag under a shower head before tossing it in the trash. Melvin nodded and traced his steps back, finding nothing to hint at their presence. The two left the locker room and, with a soft thud, the locks popped back into place as Chris pulled the door closed. “When will we know if it has worked,” Melvin asked when they returned under the cover of darkness to their shared room. “When the jars start to fill,” Chris said pulling off his gloves. The jars were four large glass cylinders with taps at the bottom. They sat on a high shelf on Chris’ side of the room. Each with a sticker with the different symbols of the stones they represented. Chris had explained that each symbol had a colour for what it would drain. Blue for Fortitude, or strength and agility. Red for Dominance, or attitude and power. Yellow for Stature, or size and grace. Pink for Virility, or looks and charm. These stones, when combined, would drain everything that makes a man a man. The inside of the jars had what Chris called a ‘condenser’ stone glued to the top. Chris had spent hours explaining the magic to Melvin since the start of the year. The ‘condenser’ would receive the stolen essence from the tainted jocks, and, in turn, the essence would drip down into the jars. When the jars were filling the taps would turn on and slowly empty the essence down the pipes into a larger jar on the shelf below. This jar was the ‘Master Jar’ as Chris kept calling it. The stolen essences from the four stones would combine into a complete manhood elixir. Chris would always end this explanation looking like he was about to cum. He was obsessed by it, but Melvin too was beginning to obsess over it too. “Should happen on Monday,” Chris explained. “There is a practice then, so it should start draining the first of the jocks then.” Chris dropped onto his bed and flicked off the light, leaving Melvin to find his own bed in the darkness. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Barrett swaggered down the corridor, his size 15 sneakers stomping across the floor. People stepped aside when he came towards them. It was almost enough to get his swinging cock hard. He was the big man on campus, a god, and part of a proud dynasty. Barrett Wington was only the latest Wington to come to Lincoln, but it was his older brother who’d left the biggest mark. Andrew Jackson Wington, or A.J. to most, was the captain who’d taken a terrible football team and made them champions. He’d started the team’s 8 year winning streak, which had continued under Barrett. He brushed a hand through his thick blond hair and then slapped his older brother’s football helmet which sat in a shrine outside the athletic department. It was a tradition, before every game and practice the helmet got slapped. But the shrine’s oversized picture of A.J in his Dallas Cowboys uniform made Barrett feel like he was a 10 year old again, only downside of being a Wington in Lincoln was that A.J would always be looking down at you somewhere. The guy was a hero, even though he’d only won two championships, while Barrett had won three. Then again, the added weight of three super-bowls really made A.J. a legacy to compete with. Barrett rolled his shoulders as he passed into the locker room, most of the guys were already there and changing. He stopped at his locker, his entire uniform was freshly washed and waiting for him. He smiled and started to strip. He decided to go shirtless today, the cheer team would be practicing on the other side of the field, he wanted to impress. Shirtless and with his tanned abs glistening under the locker room lights. He dropped his basketball shorts, his soft cock swung a little as he slipped his big wide feet through the straps of his jock and pulled it up. A chill ran down his spine, what the fuck were they washing these jocks in he wondered. He rearranged his packed pouch. “Better” he muttered in a smooth voice He led the team out onto the field and they started some stretches. His 6’4” frame appeared more bendy than many expected. Giving anyone watching a good view of his athletic ass as he stretched out his legs. The guys though seemed unfocused today, probably the hangover running through from the party on Saturday. “Light weights,” he muttered. A shadow fell over him. “What was that, boss,” Big Ben asked down to him. “Oh shit,” Barrett chuckled, spinning round. “How the fuck can you sneak up on someone?” Big Ben just laughed deeply and gave his crotch a tug. A grimace on his square face. “You ok,” Barrett asked then poked Big Ben in his solid stomach. “You feed that thing today?” Big Ben didn’t laugh. “Yea, I’m cool,” and he stomped over to do his warmups, the ground shaking with each massive step. Coach Peters appeared, a cigar in his mouth and a baggy sweat suit pulled over his flabby frame. “Boys…..” he bellowed and the team gathered Barrett gave his cock a scratch through his shorts as he jogged over. Big Ben looked like the monster was trying to escape with how rough he was rearranging himself. “It was a tough practice last week. No one let me down,” Peters continued chewing on the end of the cigar. “Today we are gonna be a little lighter, some cardio, then hit the gym.” Barrett smirked. “Some cardio” was code for “as many laps as you can do before you fall down and then five more.” Peters was a slave driver, a hard ass, but he was the best. Barrett led the pack of built, hulking athletes, his thighs flexing with each long stride around the field. He’d quicken his pace when he passed the cheerleaders though, get some distance between him and the other guys, make it look like he was always miles ahead. The entire time though he had this scratch at the base of his balls that he just couldn’t shake. No matter how many times he palmed his swollen nuts it was still there. “Man, I can’t go on,” Danny one of the players said as he caught up to Barrett. “Fucking off my game, I’ll see you in the gym.” Barrett slowed and watched Danny walk off the field.Others were joining Danny. “WHAT THE FLYING FUCK,” Coach Peters screamed at Danny. “My mother can run more laps and she’s been dead for decades!” Barrett winced. Peters could reach a high pitch when he was pissed. “Weird, isn’t it,” Big Ben said as he thudded to a stop next to Barrett. “Danny usually is the last to stop running.” “Fucking prides himself on it,” Barrett added. Both jocks scratched at their ample manhoods. “Something is up,” Barrett said and they looked curiously at each other. “No more parties,” Big Ben offered. “Damn right, can’t start getting sloppy,” Barrett answered and the two headed into the gym their hands deep in their sweaty jock pouches. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Melvin was crooked nose deep in a fantasy novel when Chris burst into the room. Chris was tall, about 6ft and very wealthy, dressed in all designer clothes he looked like he’d come off a runway usually. But today he was sweating, excited and red faced. “It’s happening,” he exclaimed and knelt on his bed and looked to the jars on the shelves. “What,” Melvin questioned, gently placing the book back on his own shelves above his bed. “I saw the football team in the gym. We should be getting some essence,” Chris said in a rushed voice. Melvin looked to the jars. They were filling, blue, red, yellow and pink liquid dripped from the stones at the top of the jars. About an inch of colourful liquid was filling each jars. “Shit,” Melvin said, awestruck. “I knew you doubted me,” Chris grinned as he checked out the master jar and its pipes. He pulled the jar back and then pushed it back further onto the shelf. He didn't want it falling off. A hairline crack appeared on the underside as it gently hit the wall, but neither Chris or Melvin noticed. With great excitement Chris turned the taps on each jar and the two roommates watched as the liquids slowly flowed down into the master jar. “Green,” Melvin said as the colours mixed and a rich emerald green colour emerged. “Never thought green would be the colour of manhood,” Chris chuckled lightly. Chris jumped past Melvin and grabbed Melvin’s potted cactus, “Bert”, from their shared desk. “What are you doing,” Melvin asked, trying to get Bert out of Chris’ hands. “Testing the elixir, we can’t just swallow it down, can we,” Chris explained. He held the pot under the master jar’s tap and turned on the flow, a couple drops oozed out and soaked into Burt’s surrounding dirt. Chris turned off the flow and handed Burt back to Melvin. “Give it till tomorrow morning,” Chris said and he just sat and watched the liquids mix. Melvin placed Bert back on the desk, next to “Ernie” his fellow potted cactus. “If Burt dies you’re buying me a new one,” Melvin sighed. Chris didn't respond.