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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/U93PYnB Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 

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  1. Marvelous Man - Chapter 22

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY Chapter 22: Two of Cups Pink cherry blossoms danced in the warm breeze, as the door to a roof access was wedged open. Sunlight illuminated the robotic figure stepping onto the simulated Japanese high school rooftop. The Soulem, cladded in a zaffre-colored fundoshi and red rectangular glasses, slowly trudged towards two muscled men hugging beneath a cherry blossom tree. Gemini coughed, “Um, hey guys.” Marvelous Man and Gene broke their embrace from each other. The musclebound superhero could feel himself blushing at being caught hugging the Totochtin prince. He wanted this intimate moment to stay private; especially from it being crashed by his soured love interest. As he and Gene looked back at Gemini, he saw the Soulem avoiding eye contact with mood rings flushed pink. “Sorry to interrupt, but the magical researchers need to talk to you,” said Gemini. The Soulem reported, “Something about upgrading your silver balls...which I’m pretty sure isn’t a sexual euphemism, but it could probably go both ways with you involved, heh.” “Yes, I can see the humor in your insinuation, Gemini. Thank you for telling me. I will take the leave.” nodded Gene. The Totochtin prince began his walk towards the simulation’s exit. As he passed by the cherry blossom tree, he stopped in his tracks. Gene turned around to face Marvelous Man. The rabbit superhero smiled, “Remember the wisdom I have imparted, Marvelous Man. You must make the effort to bandage it up. And when you are ready, I will happily partake in the fruits of the intercourse with you.” Marvelous Man could feel his body emit an extreme amount of body heat, that it felt like his own flustering was cooking him alive. He and Gemini watched the bunny demigod continue walking towards the rooftop access door. As Gene approached the door and exited through it, Gemini slowly shuffled about to face the musclebound superhero. The Soulem said nothing, while avoiding Marvelous Man’s eyes. The hulking bodybuilder did the same. “So…” hesitated Gemini, “This is awkward…” Marvelous Man replied, “Uh-huh…” The muscle demigod felt like this was his moment to say something. To make the first move in repairing their relationship. But...could not find himself to say anything. Every part of him wanted to either curl up into a ball or fly away. He then heard the Soulem speak up. “There’s...kinda a lot I want to say, but it’s actually hard to figure out where to start. Which is kinda funny...ya know, cause I got a computer mind and all. So it should be easy to figure it out...Sorry, I’m yammering,” said Gemini. He continued, “I guess I should say congratulations. After thinking it over, I’m glad you picked Gene. He’s...a lot nicer than how I’ve been. And I know he can make you happy, since he can detect emotions and all. I don’t even really know the guy, so I can’t just make off-handed assumptions about how he truly feels about you…” “Oh, no. It’s not like that,” corrected Marvelous Man. Gemini held up his hand, “Sorry, Justice. Please just let me finish. Before I lose the guts to say all this...or I might go back to being how I was,” The bulky android paused for a moment before taking in a deep breath. As he released his held breath, his shoulders sagged. Gemini then began to lightly pound his fists together; knuckles against knuckles. “...You were right. I was being a Dickasaurus Rex. I’m sorry,” admitted the Soulem. He explained, “And the more I look back on what I did with you, the more I realized how fucked up I was being. I forced my feelings on you and bullied you. And that’s not real love...and that’s not what a true friend does. Back in Sunnysville, I tried to understand your life...but I didn’t ‘get’ you. Ya know? Hell, I was being such an ass with Gene. Bet he didn’t even know what was really going on, huh?” Marvelous Man shook his head, while Gemini stared up at him. In the space of a nanosecond, a thought whispered in his mind. Was it wrong that he never said a thing to Gene about his relationship with Gemini? “No, not really,” he replied. Gemini walked towards the cherry blossom tree and laid his back against the bark. His cybernetic eyes briefly wandered up at the tree’s pink canopy before flicking back down at his hands. The gentle pounding of the bulky Soulem’s fists against each other continued. He sighed, “And then...after you called me out on my shit. It didn’t exactly click, cause all I felt was broken...inside. I ran back to my dad. Hoping to fix my pain. But all he did was try to explain love and stuff. That it’s not like those movies and books and whatnot.” The fist pounding ceased immediately. Gemini grasped his elbows as if he were hugging himself, while mood rings on his cheeks turned a deep blue. Teardrops began to form at the edge of his eyes. “And that’s when I got the call about your...disappearance. You were gone for two whole days, and...it was...I was terrified. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and whether you were alive or not. So that’s when I thought about if you never came back. I just...I’m not sure if I could handle that. Just a world without you, Justice,” said Gemini. He paused to wipe his eyes of the tears. The Soulem smiled, “And then a miracle happened! You came back. It was at that point that I realized it didn’t matter if we weren’t boyfriends. I just wanted to be with you. I-in your life, I mean. Being friends with you was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Stepping away from the tree, the robotic being gazed up into his overly-muscular friend’s eyes. The bulky Soulem’s mood rings flashed to rose red, while his face became serious. His arms shifted; one drooping down while the other held onto the relaxed elbow. “A-an-and! I know that all that stuff I did and how it hurt you...I know we can’t ever go back to being how we used to be. Things are different now, and I get that...but that doesn’t mean we can’t go back to being friends again. Maybe not on the same level, but we can still try to get close to that, right?” Marvelous Man felt stunned at what he heard. His friend’s disposition seemed to have flipped on the opposite side of the spectrum. The muscle demigod knew his friend was right...but he could not help but feel guilt at what happened. It was a mix of both feeling like he enabled his friend to have bad behavior and also hurting Gemini’s feelings. The hulking bodybuilder smiled, “Yeah, I forgive you. And I honestly do want to be friends with you again.” The Soulem’s mood rings flashed the color of sky blue. “Great! But, uh, just so you know...I’m still a work in progress. I’ll still be an asshole, but I’m trying to be better. Just call me out on it, okay? Can’t keep using my new body as an excuse for what I do,” grinned Gemini. Marvelous Man nodded, “I will. I’m just glad we could patch things up.” “But, ummm, Gene and I aren’t a couple,” he corrected. Gemini’s mood rings became grey, “Huh?” “He broke it off with me,” said Marvelous Man, “He realized he couldn’t love me the same way I loved him...it was for the better. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’s supposed to have a broken heart, and, uh, I still kinda do. But I think he was more broken up about it than I was.” The bulky Soulem paused for a second; his face projecting dumbfoundedness. Gemini’s mood rings shifted to white, “Oh...You okay?” “I think so. He said some things that put it into, uhh, perspective. I wasn’t any better than you when it came to love,” sighed Marvelous Man. He mentioned, “Plus, I kinda went through some traumatizing shit that having a wrecked love life isn’t so bad.” The robotic being looked away. “Oh, right...the kidnapping,” recalled Gemini. Marvelous Man slowly nodded, “Yeah, that...and some stuff that happened after…” “Did you want to hug it out and cry about it?” suggested the Soulem. The musclebound superhero smiled, “Naw, I’m all cried out right now. And I think I sorta reached some state of numbness...again. If that makes sense. But...I think I could use a close friend to talk about all this heavy stuff.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Wow...that’s some heavy shit right there,” remarked Gemini. The two friends sat at the bench beneath the blooming cherry blossom tree. Marvelous Man stared out at scenery beyond the roof’s metal fence. He sighed, “Yeah.” “But why do you call your opposite healing power a poison? I mean, you know what it means, right?” commented Gemini. The muscle demigod looked down at his friend. A part of him wanted to explode in the frustration of being questioned. Apollo had trained him in the ways of medicine and drilled into him the many facts of what is poisonous, toxic, venomous, etc...But he knew it would not do good to be so volatile at a newly repaired relationship. Marvelous Man’s eyebrow flexed in confusion, “Uh, yeah, I do.” “Just saying, it’s more of a venom than a poison, cause you’re directly inflicting it on someone,” said Gemini. Marvelous Man corrected, “That’s only when you’re injecting it into someone. Mine is more like...a secretion.” “Eh, having that dark power stab into people’s eyes to cause mental trauma sounds more like a venom. Besides, it sounds cooler,” shrugged the Soulem, “Oh! You should call it, Soul Venom!” The hulking bodybuilder giggled. He had missed moments like this. Events where he and Gemini just hung out as Justice and Gemini to talk about random things. Stupid things. Things that were childish but always had an odd depth to it. Even if it came down to talks of what color would they want grass to be. Or if the fetishism of creating a Soulem version of oneself and having sex with it is masturbation. Marvelous Man hummed, “That does sound cooler.” Seconds ticked by in silence. Neither being moved, as cherry blossom petals danced in the breeze. The mood rings on Gemini’s cheeks slowly changed to purple. “So...you have a unique celestial element, huh? And it’s supposed to help you win against the Skeleton Lord?” questioned Gemini. The muscle demigod nodded, “Yep. But it was more like I had a better chance of winning if I figured it out what it was.” “And it’s a virtue type of element, sooooo that’s gonna be harder to figure out,” noted Gemini. Marvelous Man sighed, “I guess. And it’s connected to my parents’ own celestial elements. My mom said it was a seed...whatever that means.” “So we got war, love, and...light? Or is it medicine and athletics?” said the bulky Soulem. Marvelous Man replied, “Heh. My dad just considered himself as complex. But I saw him as more of an art god when I tried to put a label on him.” Gemini’s mood rings flashed orange. “...How the hell are supposed to figure it out with such a mixed bag like that?! War isn’t even a virtue! It’s the opposite if it were trying to be in the same category somehow,” he grunted. Marvelous Man shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe if we tried to see the good side of it, it’d make more sense.” “And just what positive aspect do you see in war that isn’t connected to the profiteers of it?” said Gemini. Marvelous Man looked at the ground, “Well...maybe...I dunno...passion? Like, people only go to war to protect the ones they love and their nation. And love is, like, a chemical reaction for people to fight harder or just keep going at something regardless of difficulty. And it’s when it gets harder that a person refuses to give up.” Gemini looked at his friend with a stupefied look for a moment before staring out at the scenery. The color within his mood rings shifted back to white. “It’s so weird how you have such a unique perspective to things. It even shows in your fighting style. Well, either that or you just like being super extra...But even though what you said is a complete stretch, I wouldn’t say you’re wrong. True virtue is being able to give your own positive feedback no matter the challenge. Kindness instead of wrath and whatnot,” he replied. The Soulem continued, “So something that is connected to love, passion, and...art. Feels like it should be something super easy to figure out. But it’s like when you’ve looked over something you didn’t feel was important that when you really need it, it’s just not there. Sooooo...I dunno, soul? Since the soul can be linked to emotions and all. Seems like that’s what it is given how your powers seem to work with the venom and supercharge.” The muscle demigod thought about what his robotic friend said. It almost sounded like it had made sense...but his instincts told him that was not the answer. “Naw, it doesn’t feel like that’s what it’s supposed to be,” frowned Marvelous Man. Gemini sighed, “Well, shit.” The uncomfortable silence made its way back; filling the void of unsaid words. Marvelous Man felt he was going in a spiral that was slowly going down to an unfortunate end. Every time he tried to find a way to break from the pattern or forget about it, the feeling would always pull him back in. Ugly and numbing emotions would creep back in; never doing anything but always making themselves aware since the second encounter with the Skeleton Lord in the subway. It had been easy to immediately ignore such nasty things back then. But after his confrontation with his parents...the emotions had now started to pounce on the musclebound superhero. And with every second he was aware of them, they would gnaw at the core of his optimism. Marvelous Man needed to be rid of such things. He gambled everything on his friend. If not being about to exterminate the vermin feelings, then at least Gemini could help take some weight off of the negative emotions. His lips trembled. “Have you...ever wished you didn’t exist?...Or maybe...that people would be better off without you? Maybe even the world?” he asked. Gemini immediately glared up at the hulking bodybuilder. His face was completely flabbergasted, while his mood rings flared a bright yellow. “WHAT?! NO!,” exclaimed Gemini, “Justice, why would you say that?!...What’s-are you alright? Bro, where’s this thinking coming from?” Marvelous Man looked away, “It’s just...I don’t know...something I’ve just been thinking about for a little while...maybe even more since shit went down…I know I try to stay happy, but it’s been getting pretty hard right now. All I feel now when I’m alone and just thinking is guilt.” “ And...well...It’s cause it feels like all I’ve done so far is make everything worse for everybody else. And now...that feeling of not being able to shake off the bad stuff just keeps coming back. It’s like, it doesn’t feel fair that I’m alive when so many people are dead. Even when they’re not completely innocent or something, I’m not sure. I’m going through a lot of stuff so fast my head is just flying off and I don’t know how to feel anymore other than considering...not...existing,” he continued. Gemini placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Bro, are you feeling like that right now?” “I guess…” shrugged Marvelous Man. Gemini spoke, “Take a deep breath right now, okay? Just do it.” It was an odd request from the Soulem, but the hulking bodybuilder complied. Taking in a deep breath of air, his meaty pectorals slightly expanded. Marvelous Man’s pecs then deflated back to their normal state upon exhalation. The muscle demigod could not explain how, but it felt as if the stress he was carrying had been slightly relieved. “Now listen, it’s okay if you want to think that, but don’t ever believe in it. We can’t stop the thoughts we have and should just go through all the, ya know, processes of it. But it’s dangerous if you give thoughts like that the power to become truth, okay?” lectured Gemini. The Soulem continued, “I know a lot of crap went down. And whether you were part of it or not, it still would’ve happened. Those homeless people still would’ve died back at the subway and the crack den, but you were able to stop the Skeleton Lord from causing more harm. Hell, Gene is still alive cause of you. Oh! And those people at the park too! They would’ve bled out if you weren’t there.” Marvelous Man thought back to those events the Soulem listed. His friend was not wrong. Things could have gone a lot worse if he had not been there to heal his friends and the innocents. And now that he thought about it, if he had not been kidnapped by the PB&J Gang, the Skeleton Lord might have arranged Gene to be kidnapped instead. “I guess you’re right,” he nodded. Gemini spoke up, “Yeah, I am. I mean, you even managed to befriend Sugar Skull and bring him into the D.A.B.! Who else but you can do that? Though I think he might not be happy right now with Puzzles ‘stern talking to’ if ya catch my drift.” “And even if you weren’t Marvelous Man right now, you changed people for the better as Justice. Look at your parents. They’re...well...the stories always projected them as batshit insane gods, but you talk like they’re overbearing parents that love you too hard!” he exclaimed. The Soulem threw his hands up, “That’s a complete one-eighty if I’ve ever heard one! I know you said and did some things to them, but I’m sure they’ll come around if you give them some time.” Gemini paused for a moment; his mood rings turning pink. “And, well...I met you by chance. We became great friends, and you helped awaken me by being there for me. Maybe things didn’t turn out so well after that...but in the end, we made up...just right now though, heh…” he babbled. Gemini sighed, as his mood rings turned white. “My point is, your very existence makes all the difference and don’t you forget it. The positive things you provoke in people may be small compared to what you expected, but it all carries the same weight. Even if it’s as small as being their friend or even getting someone to try a new thing. And superhero or not, your existence inspires change in the people around you,” he said “But look, I’m no therapist, and I really think you should see someone about this. I’m currently pulling therapy articles from the internet for what you’re probably dealing with as we speak, but all I’m doing is putting a band aid on the situation.” Immediately after Gemini’s speech, the entire simulation shook with the intensity of a strong earthquake. While lasting for only two seconds, the quake was vigorous enough to upset the Soulem’s balance. Gemini fell forward, as an overly-muscular arm reached out to him. Marvelous Man leaped upward and swept his arm around his robotic friend; catching Gemini in the process. Steadying the Soulem upright, the musclebound superhero’s thoughts shifted from concern of his friend to the quake. His mind quickly pieced together that there must have been some outside force to cause such shaking. “What just happened? Was that an earthquake?” he said. Gemini held his fingers against his head, “Not sure. Give me a sec. Scrolling through social media.” The Soulem’s metallic eyebrows furrowed. His eyes seemed to look glazed over, as he streamed through data. Seconds after, he blinked his eyes back into focus. Gemini’s face expressed only horror, while the mood rings flashed to a bright yellow. “Oh my gosh...no no no nonononono…” he muttered. Reaching into the brown satchel strapped over his shoulder, Gemini pulled out a glass smartphone. He tapped on its glowing screen a few times before holding it up next to his face. The Soulem turned away from the muscle demigod; pacing back and forth in a frantic motion. He mumbled, “Come on, come on, come on! Please, oh, please pick up.” Gemini came to a sudden stop, as his face was instantly washed over with shock and then relief. “Dad! Oh my gosh. Thank goodness, you’re alright! Why aren’t you at work today?...You got the flu? Oh, thank fuck that happened...S-sorry, Dad. I-I’m just really scared right now, but at least you weren’t at work today...It’s-I’m, uh, not sure how to say this dad. There was an explosion at the Arkos Division, and it was so powerful that it just shook the D.A.B. headquarters right now...No, I’m fine…I love you too, dad...” he rambled. Marvelous Man’s eyes went wide upon hearing Gemini’s side of the conversation. He felt himself nearly reacting to what he heard, as a telepathic message interrupted him. The musclebound superhero heard his field analyst’s voice. Fairuza announced, “Gene, Marvelous Man, please report immediately to the Director’s office. If you spot Gemini on the way, please bring him. I tried contacting his phone, but it’s busy.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Seven minutes ago, an explosion occurred at the Arkos Division headquarters,” reported Puzzles, “It is not yet certain if it was an act of terrorism, but it was most definitely an attempt to distract us heroes.” “And the reasons as to why we know this is because at the same time of the explosion, our magical alarm wards placed around the Skeleton Lord’s fog had detected a spike in activity. A monster and two humanoids with undead features have been seen exiting the fog. A, uh, pardon the term, skeleton crew of drones and police officers placed there have been able to stop the intruders. Recordings of the intruders have yet to be released.,” he continued. Director Skye sighed, “We were lucky so few appeared. Any more than those three, and we definitely would have to send over some body bags.” Sugar Skull shuffled about in one of the office’s cushy seats. “What happened to the invaders?” questioned the ghoul. Puzzles pawed at his tablet, “They were immediately killed. The humanoids were armed with firearms. Once they aimed their weapons at the police, law enforcement attacked in self defense. The monster was also killed. Assumed to have been caught in the crossfire of bullets. Let’s see...no bodies were found. Upon death, the suspects had instantly disintegrated and left behind a distinct bleach odor.” Sugar Skull concluded, “Which is what the creatures of Limbo smell like. Uh, ummm...OH! Guaranteeing that the fog really is a gateway for the Skeleton Lord to exit through.” Marvelous Man felt both of his hands being grasped, as he felt nausea begin to overtake him. The surprising, tight sensation caused his queasiness to recede. Within each hand, the muscle demigod held Gene and Gemini’s hand. A warm, rubbery feeling in one clutch, and a soft hand that emitted flecks of anger underneath concern in the other. Elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined over each other, Director Skye leaned forward. He closed his eyes momentarily, as he exhaled a long, audible sigh. His eyes then flicked up at the team members; scattered about in either seats or standing in the center of the room. “Without collecting all the conclusive evidence, it’s too early to arrive at that kind of destination...Sadly, I am inclined to agree with you, Mr. Skull. I cannot ignore such a coincidence to occur soon after our earlier meeting,” said the master witch. The soft closing of a book echoed in the tension-filled office. Marvelous Man looked down to see Fairuza recently finished running a magical scan with her book. The field analyst had an apprehensive look on her face, as she shifted in her chair. Fairuza slowly raised her hand into the air, “Director Skye, sir, I’m afraid I have some more bad news. It’s about the explosion at the Arkos Division headquarters.” “...And what foreboding information have you discovered?” said the Director. Fairuza disclosed, “Multiple casualties discovered so far, and the explosion caused half of the facility to collapse. It’s unsure how many more are buried underneath the rubble. Survivor injuries has ranged all the way to critical. Medigel they have present had been greatly reduced due to the explosion and only have a handful on hand. Paramedics arriving soon.” Fairuza swallowed. She had a pensive look on her face. Her eyes gazed downwards as if she were carefully choosing her next words. “I was able to scan the area and find the login information of a security guard for their cloud’s security feed...They will no longer be needing it. Um, in any case, I’ll be accessing their cloud right now. Director Skye, where can I broadcast?” she finished. The Director’s hand began to glow blue with magic, as it casted multiple gestures at his wall-mounted paintings. What had been colored brushstrokes on the canvases were now a black screen with a runic symbol illuminating in the center. With the magical alteration complete, the master witch pointed at his modified painting with an opened palm. She gave a slight bow, “Thank you, sir.” Setting her yellow book on her lap with the front facing down, the mystical field analyst placed her index finger upon the center of the hardcover’s back. The tip of Fairuza’s finger began to softly radiate with magic. She then traced her glowing finger in a circular motion; causing the back book cover to shine a small magical seal. Fairuza then lifted the cover; revealing a square gap sliced into the page. A glint of a shiny object gleamed from the tiny chasm, as it rose up into view. The object exposed itself to be a crystal sphere made of an indigo rock that was freckled with white patches all over. The rising then stopped, as a pedestal made of paper could be seen holding the crystal ball. The crystal ball seemed to be perfectly sized for Fairuza’s palm, as she cupped her hands around it. Fairuza’s hands glowed a faint blue before the magical energy seeped into the indigo-colored sphere. The mystical field analyst stared into her crystal ball, as the enchanted painting’s image across from her flickered. With the runic symbol on the canvas completely dissolving, the login page of a website took its place. Fairuza continued gazing into her magical sphere, as the blank boxes of the login page had begun to fill with text. Everyone but Marvelous Man turned to the screen. The musclebound superhero kept switching attention from the screen back towards the mystical field analyst; confused by the interaction of magic with technology. Marvelous Man bent down to whisper at Gemini. “Ummm…” he asked, “So how is she…?” Gemini explained in a hushed tone, “There’s a computer chip in her merlinite crystal ball. And with the runes grafted inside the ball to interact with the chip, she can affect technology. But the magical capabilities of that can’t hack the government or anything. It’s more like a magical universal remote.” The mystical field analyst slowly exhaled. Her hands slightly trembled, as the skin stirred. The moving skin split open; revealing eyeballs flickering about before focusing on the orb. Marvelous Man flinched at the sight, while everyone else continued casting attention towards the painting. “NGHUH!” reeled the musclebound superhero. Gemini clarified, “She’s fine. I guess the inside of her crystal ball is laced with spells to multiply her consciousness. I wonder what it’s like to look at 4 different screens with one mind...FYI, each of her eyes are a copy of her mind. Can’t imagine what her migraine will be like after the fact.” Seconds passed before Marvelous Man managed to force his gaze away from the disturbing eyes breaching from Fairuza’s hand. Turning his stare towards the magical painting, he spotted a new update to the canvas. The screen had transformed into four different camera feed screens; each one fast-forwarding through a timeframe before skipping to another scene. Marvelous Man tried to watch, but the images moved faster than he could comprehend. Fairuza continued scrying her crystal ball in silence. After a minute had flown by the fast-paced images turned to black. The eyes on her hands then began to shut; withdrawing into her body. With the last magical eye closed, Fairuza looked up from her crystal ball. “It wasn’t an accident,” she said with a neutral tone. The Director inquired, “By whose hand?” “A man in Aztec-styled clothing. Putting him on screen,” Fairuza replied. It had been too much of a coincidence to think someone else would be running around in such a specific style. Marvelous Man kept his mouth closed; it was obvious who it would be but did not want to assume. The musclebound superhero continued watching the black canvas, as he gripped the arms of his jacket. The black painting changed its image; shaping into another recording. The camera feed showed two lab-coat workers standing in front of two glass pillar-like containers with unrecognizable technology attached to parts of it. The glass structures held two figures within; obscuring their faces by huddling down with their faces casted at the ground. As the scientists were making their rounds with checking on the computers attached to the containers, an unseen force pulled one of them back. The yanked scientist then bent himself backwards; standing on the tips of his toes as if possessed by an evil spirit. The neck’s left side of the attacked scientist then split open, as blood started to spurt from the wound like a sprinkler. The other scientist stood in motionless shock at the scene in front of her; unflinching even after being bathed in the splatters of her coworker’s blood. The male scientist was then released from the invisible grasp and landed flat on the floor. As it happened, a figment began to materialize next to the downed scientist. It started reconstituting as feet; tanned as dark as mocha. The building blocks of the visible being continued construction of the legs with the edges of a red cloak that was outlined with teal. As the materialization created a red-knotted loincloth with a teal outline, the musculature of the mysterious being appeared to be slim like a professional athletic runner. The man came armed at that time, as a bow and quiver came into visibility and slung over the shoulder. The entirety of the head and face was covered; topped with a snake-shaped wooden headdress like in the Aztec illustrations Marvelous Man had seen in world history textbooks. Sugar Skull crossed his arm, “So the watchdog has come to collect.” The video paused, as the Director looked towards the Limbo being. “You know him?” questioned Director Skye. The ghoul nodded, “That’s Itzcóatl. He’s one of the Skeleton Lord’s guardians and right hand man. He showed up at the Skeleton Lord’s newest hideout when I rescued Marvelous Man. He’s a hunter that hides in the fog like a shark.” “And to make him more annoying, he can become, ummm, invisible. The Bruja also told me his quiver is enchanted to make copies of his arrows. Haven’t fought him yet but seeing this shows he’s probably the most deadliest out of all of them,” added Sugar Skull. The rabbit demigod released his hand from Marvelous Man’s, as he turned to face the ghoul. Gene frowned, “But how did the Itzcóatl manage to invade the Arkos Division headquarters? The building should have been warded to detect the magically invisible.” As Sugar Skull opened his mouth, he was interrupted by an electronic voice. “Not if that guardian’s power is supernaturally-based rather than a mutation. They’re a superhero company based on only science. And because they’re so sure their machines can detect and quarantine magic, that they refuse our help or even do basic warding. It’s why their supernatural captives keep breaking out, and their machines are very limited at detecting the various frequencies magic has. Until it’s figured out what the base frequency of magic is, they can only detect the handful of spells or supernatural powers made public,” sighed Gemini. Puzzles spoke up, “Fairuza, continue the footage.” Everybody turned their attention back towards the magical painting, as the security recording resumed. Itzcóatl pulled out a dagger with a black blade that appeared to be made of obsidian glass. The guardian pointed his weapon at the injured scientist before switching the dagger’s attention to the female scientist and then towards the glass containers. The footage did not seem to have any audio recording capabilities, as the female scientist nodded while mouthing a reply. With shaky hands, the female scientist placed her face in front of one of the containment unit’s computers. The device appeared to be an apparatus designed for eye-scanning identification. Upon completing the process, the Arkos Division worker typed away at the keyboard. The glass container reacted to the input by melting a rectangular doorway on the side of itself. The female scientist then ran to one of the drawers lined against the wall and opened it. Pulling out what she needed, she scurried over to her bleeding partner. While the worker was applying what appeared to be a salve from a soft tube onto her partner’s wound, the prisoners within the confinements exited the two glass containers. Marvelous Man recognized first one; Zareb, the African guardian of the Skeleton Lord who commanded electricity with the twin axes. The other was a knight, who was defeated before the musclebound superhero arrived at the scene. Zareb raised his hands into the air; his hands wiggled about as if it were calling out to something. Black smoke similar to the fog ebbed from his forearms and flowed into his hands. The whisping miasma then shapeshifted into Zareb’s iconic axes. Clanging them together, the runes grafted onto the enchanted weapons glowed. Lightning emanated from the magical axes; shocking nearly everything in random arcs before striking the recording camera. The camera feed became black, as the lightning shot into its eye. “My best guess is that Zareb, the Skeleton Lord guardian with the lightning axes, caused some sort of negative reaction with his continuous voltage and...triggered an explosion. Until we know more, that’s all I can say,” reported Fairuza. The Director questioned, “And who is the knight? What exactly can he do?” “Other than wielding a glaive-type lance, I don’t know, sir. But he’s not as dangerous, if he was captured so easily,” replied Fairuza. “Not unless he wanted to be captured. Same goes with Zareb,” said the master witch, “And what about our guest?” Puzzles stated, “Gilgamesh is still on ice, Boss. Not taking chances with this one. He’s tried a couple of times to get out whenever he’s been thawed for questioning, but our wards have made sure to keep him caged. We’ve also made sure to enchant the time capsule spell he’s in with a curse to put the freeze on anybody that didn’t undo the spell properly.” “Good. With the Skeleton Lord’s muscle out of the game, it’s made things easier for us. Double down on invisibility jamming spells. I do not want that ghastly rat getting in here at all,” said Director Skye. Puzzles bowed, “Yes, Boss!” “Gene, you go to the fog entrance and be on standby. Until we get barriers up, you’ll be the first line of defense against the invading ghouls and all those Limbo monsters,” commanded the Director. Gene nodded, “I acknowledge.” “And take Sugar Skull with you. Maybe this time, he can actually benefit us,” added the master witch. Sugar Skull placed his hand over his chest, “Ah. I’m touched.” “Marvelous Man, I need you to head over to the Arkos Division and help the injured folks with your healing abilities. Use that expansive healing of yours. The supercharge one. If anybody is alive under the rubble, it could be their only life support until they’re rescued. Gemini, you go with him. See if you can dig up any information in regards to...well, anything. I suspect you and your father’s relationship with the A.D. could give you some leeway in attaining such,” ordered Director Doug. “Yes, sir,” said Marvelous Man and Gemini in unison. The musclebound superhero felt pride course through his body, as he remembered what Gemini said to him earlier. He might not be able to save everybody, but he can make a difference in saving some lives. It was time to focus on what he can do and give it his all. Director Doug leaned forward; fingers interlaced with one another. A bead of sweat began to form on the master witch’s brow. He gave a quick sigh before looking up. He declared “Mark my words, people. This is only phase 1 of what is about to come. Dismissed.” Next Chapter
  2. The Urn and The Ring

    This is inspired by a story I'd read a while back. Unfortunately I forgot the name! If you all like it, there's more to come. This is mostly setup right now, but there's plenty of hot stuff to come. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Darkness. The black void was everything, and then it wasn’t. Half-open eyes blinked a blurry world to life. The sunlight danced through the cracks in the blinds covering a window at the back of the room. The slivers of light highlighted the absolutely average body of Jeremy. A slight layer of fat was somewhat noticeable on his body, but it wasn’t unattractive. One wouldn’t really say it was attractive either – he was an average-looking college student. The light accentuated his perhaps larger-than-average bulge that filled his tight white Calvins. A trail of dark hair dusted the path from his crotch to his belly button, but he was hairless elsewhere. He was a pretty fashionable man, after all. The sunbeams crossed his eyes. His hand lazily searched for his glasses on the small table to the right of his bed. As the lenses crossed his field of vision, Jeremy’s dorm room came into focus. His eyes fell upon the body of his roommate and best friend, Sebastian. Sebastian was of true Spanish descent – his smooth olive complexion highlighted some of his distinctly European features. Jeremy felt the usual pang of slight jealousy; Sebastian, while not a model by any means, was quite beautiful, and hardly worked at all to attain his beauty. Jeremy sighed as the feeling that he’d been dealt a bad deck washed over him. It passed, like most things do, and Jeremy let a smile creep onto his face. He and Sebs had known each other for years, they’d been best friends in high school and had kept their connection strong as they headed into college together. They had been through so much together, and knew so much about each other. Sebastian was one of the few reasons Jeremy really felt like he was worth anything to anyone. “Hey Sebs, it’s time to get up. We’re gonna be late.” Jeremy spoke softly (Sebastian was a monster to wake up) and Sebs responded by turning over and putting a pillow over his head. Jeremy was greeted by Sebastian’s lean muscular back and firm ass. He was, admittedly, a little jealous. “Your loss then, bud. I’ll give you my notes if you want them.” Sebastian mumbled again, and sank a little bit deeper into his bed. Jeremy and Sebs had one class together, and it was Anthropology. Dr. Knight was known around their school for being wildly eccentric, and while that was true, he was also incredibly passionate. There was something about the professor that was alluring to Jeremy, and he revered Dr. Knight. His Anthropology studies were also a reason Jeremy kept on keeping on. There was something almost magical and enticing about learning about the cultures and ideas of the past. After all, it’s the compounding and synthesizing of all of those old stories and ideas that had gotten human society to where it was today, and studying the thoughts of the past often revealed the failures of the present. Humans could be incredibly prescient. Today the class was supposed to study some of the ancient artifacts that Dr. Knight had collected over the years, and while it was mostly trivial stuff to Sebs, Jeremy was addicted to the craftsmanship of the old jewelry and the urns and the ancient writing and… it all stoked a little fire in his brain. Throwing on a faded tie-dye shirt and a pair of well-fit jeans, Jeremy left his room, ran down the few flights of stairs to the first floor of the building. He grabbed a banana and some yogurt from the dining hall, and then began a brisk walk across campus to the Humanities building. He passed a couple of people that he recognized, but he didn’t receive any kind of greeting. If any of them recognized him, they didn’t care enough to acknowledge his presence. Jeremy was used to it, such was the nature of his life. Walking into the lecture hall, he noticed some of the archaic objects that Dr. Knight was to talk about during class. As was his routine, Jeremy made his way to the front of the room. In front of him on a table was a quite well-preserved urn, not unlike the one that John Keats might have described in his poetry. The images of the men of the old days were engraved all around the thing, crafting some sort of intricate tale. What that tale was, Jeremy wasn’t sure, but it was enticing and exciting for him. Jeremy found himself staring at the urn, despite it being beside a collection of old jewelry and a strange tablet with words written in some language he couldn’t read. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Jeremy looked up to the hardened old face of Dr. Knight. He’d been staring for far too long. “Yeah. I mean, it’s really cool.” Jeremy always felt somewhat nervous when talking to the professor. Dr. Knight was an old man, probably in his 70s at this point, but he would never reveal his age. He kept his snow-white beard well groomed. He gave off a unique vibration – cool, collected, incredibly informed, never condescending. Jeremy looked up to the man. “I don’t really understand the story it’s trying to tell, but I’m sure you’ll tell us.” Dr. Knight narrowed his eyes. His words were filled with the confidence deriving from his knowledge. “It’s not really that clear cut, I’m afraid.” Jeremy was confused, but such a mystery piqued his interest. “What do you mean by that professor?” “They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This urn appears slightly differently to everyone who looks at it. It’s difficult to understand, but the simplest way I can put it is this: everybody perceives color in a slightly different manner. The urn was crafted to play to that, so the art that you see is unique to the people who see the way that you do.” Jeremy just looked at his professor. He didn’t quite grasp the explanation offered by Dr. Knight, but it seemed cool. Jeremy’s curiosity overcame him. “What do you see, professor?” Dr. Knight seemed to pause for a moment. “Let’s talk after class, Jeremy.” Temporarily contented by that answer, Jeremy sank back into his seat. He was full of anticipation now, he wanted to learn more about this peculiar urn. He devoured every word of the lecture, his gel pen fanatically scratching at the surface of his notebook,” the ink becoming Jeremy’s knowledge, a permanent record of a past that has long since been gone. The tablet he had seen before was written in Sanskrit, Dr. Knight explained. It was a slab of clay that had been engraved by a Mesopotamian artisan, it was some sort of religious text. The jewelry was odd-looking and far too large. The fashion trends of the ancients were perhaps not too practical. Dr. Knight reminded the students that the jewelry was really reserved as a marker of status, and that people did not wear them outside of special gatherings and other such auspicious occasions. Finally, Jeremy thought, the professor began to describe the urn. It was discovered somewhere in Northern Africa, by Dr. Knight himself. He had brought it to many of his peers, and many explanations for the strange transient quality of the artwork had been proposed. Dr. Knight explained some of them, though he did not sound as though he had fully subscribed to any one school of thought. “As ridiculous as it seems,” he said, “it almost seems to be like some sort of magic, though we know that that isn’t possible.” They screened the urn for signs of radioactivity, anything that might elucidate what it could be. Nothing. “What we do know is that it is generally revered by those who get to see it. Please, take a look, stay after class, whatever you’d like. I really think that this piece is something inimitable – we will not find anything of its kind for a long while.” With that, the lecture was over. Despite the professor’s invitation, the room cleared out very quickly. College students had many more important things to attend to than stare at some old pot – like smoking some pot of their own. Jeremy, of course, stayed. Jeremy approached the urn, getting a closer look at the intricate design for the first time. There was nothing shifty about what he was looking at; the design was undoubtedly there. It featured engravings of what appeared to be a man– “Well?” Dr. Knight interrupted Jeremy’s thoughts. “I mean it’s really something. I see a man.” “Ah, as do I. Tell me more, describe what you see.” Jeremy began to slowly circle around the urn, following the little black engraving. “I see a man. And he’s climbing up something… it might be a mountain but it could also be a monster of some kind—I’m not sure.” As Jeremy looked closer and closer, the detail of the art was seriously astonishing. While it was definitely not realistic, the style was not intending to be. It seemed very peaceful yet also very realized, very deep. “And he’s reached the other side of that monster—I think it was a monster—and there’s more of him on the other side. He’s drawn prouder almost? And it’s almost like there’s something inside of him glowing…” Jeremy inspected the man closer, and realized that it really looked like this man was glowing. Okay actually, the man was definitely glowing. “What the fuck?!” Jeremy caught the professor’s attention. “I can’t see whatever it is your seeing. Describe it to me! Please, Jeremy.” “The man is fucking glowing. There is fucking light coming out of the pot. Is this thing plugged in? What the hell?” Dr. Knight looked at Jeremy. “I had suspected that this urn was capable of more than meets the eye but I’d never have expected this!” Jeremy, all the while, was drawn into the urn. To the stunning imagery, the vast expanse of the inside. He reached out, slowly extending a nervous and excited pair of hands towards the urn. His hands seemed to magnetize to the sides. “Holy shit professor! It’s pulling me in!” Jeremy’s body was being pulled toward the urn. The glow from the man began to fill the entire surface of the urn. The golden light coiled along the sides of the urn, filling the cracks and pulsing, almost as though it were connected to a heart. The inside of the urn began to glow. Dr. Knight could see that. “What a strange phenomenon! Jeremy, whatever you’re doing, do not stop!” “Oh I don’t intend to.” Whatever the energy was that resonated within the pot, it was pulling on Jeremy, tugging at his heart, his stomach, his essence. He slowly walked even closer to the urn, peering into the dark expanse within. He watched the pulsating golden light become brighter, bolder. He saw tendrils of light begin to escape the pot. They began to snake down his figure. “Professor… what is this?! I’m gonna die! No wait, this feels okay… actually, this feels great!” Dr. Knight watched with utter delight. “This is incredible! Unparalleled!” The tendrils of light swirled down Jeremy’s form, coalescing upon his left hand. The light spun its way around his fingers, one at a time, almost as though it were giving them some kind of strange blessing. It felt good. He felt like he was being filled with some otherworldly energy, some newfound power. The light focused on his ring finger, becoming blindingly bright. Dr. Knight looked away, shielding his eyes from the light that flooded the room. Jeremy felt his heart pounding as it never had before, in anticipation and filled with some new sense of power. The light became even brighter, until it seemed as though the room was just an empty void of white, and then it faded into nothingness. The urn was no longer glowing. Jeremy took a look at his hand, where the light had attacked him. On his ring finger, Jeremy saw a small black ring. He took it off. Examining the inside, he read, YOU HAVE UNLIMITED POTENTIAL. Jeremy had no idea what it meant. He had no idea what any of this was. It didn’t make any fucking sense to him. He needed to take a cold shower. This was all way too much. He grabbed the ring and thrusted it towards his professor. Dr. Knight looked at him, and then looked at the ring. “Keep it. Clearly it was brought out by you.” Jeremy didn’t quite have language inside of him at this moment. He just looked at the professor, gave him a false smile, and then turned and bolted out of the lecture hall. Jeremy nearly sprinted the entire 20 minute walk back to his dorm. He didn’t feel tired – it seemed as though it was the fastest he’d ever run. He wasn’t paying much attention to his physical self though. Jeremy’s mind was spinning, he was dizzied by the abnormality of it all. He didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe what he’d just seen. But walking up the steps to the front of the dorm building, Jeremy looked down at his left hand, thinking about the little black ring in his fist. That had all just happened. He needed privacy. When he got back to his room, Jeremy was relieved to see that it was empty. He opened his hand, the hand that he’d kept closed the entire way home. The letters on the ring were glowing. “You have unlimited potential… what does that mean?” Jeremy held up the ring to his face, examining its surface closely. It was mostly smooth, made of some strong metal, though exactly which metal he didn’t know. On the inside, the words were engraved in delicate but strong letters. They glowed a faint gold now, similar to that glow that the urn had radiated with. Jeremy thought about it for a moment, and then slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. Immediately, he felt different. Jeremy felt empowered. “This is fucking wild.” The ring looked pretty nice on Jeremy, too. He had never been a jewelry guy, maybe wearing the occasional necklace here and there, but this little black ring looked great on his finger. He went to the bathroom in his dorm, and looked at the ring in the mirror. Suddenly he felt a surge of something. The glowing got brighter, and then the ring tightened. “What the…” Jeremy was, of course, a little bit nervous. He tried to pull the ring off, but to no avail. It seemed to have bonded itself to him. “What are you?” Funny you should ask that. Jeremy heard a female voice, and he collapsed to the floor in shock. No, no… don’t worry. It’s me! Your ring. Or rather, I am the power of the ring. Jeremy had no fucking idea what was going on. He thought he was on some next-level drugs. Maybe he’d accidentally used some of Sebs’ mushroom honey instead of regular honey. But the ring felt… well, it felt real. Jeremy looked at the ring. Maybe he could ask it some questions? If it could communicate? No, fuck no, he was being ridiculous. Rings can’t talk, much less think. He was on drugs. You’re not on drugs, Jeremy. Take a deep breath. This is all real. And this ring could read his mind. Maybe he was schizophrenic. Maybe this was the first day he’d realize that he had a disorder. His brain was fucked up. He wouldn’t have doubted it after all the pot he’d smoked. Pot would never do this to your brain, Jeremy. Alright, he was going crazy. It was official. Let me show you what I can do. Look at yourself in the mirror. Jeremy did so. He thought that you weren’t supposed to listen to the voices when you had schizophrenia, but he figured it wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t really know what was going on anyways. Close your eyes. Visualize your perfect self. That was a strange request – not that Jeremy hadn’t imagined the perfect version of himself before… it just seemed strange to take orders from a female voice in his head. Just try it, Jeremy. You’ve got nothing to lose. She was right. He didn’t. Besides perhaps his sanity. Jeremy closed his eyes. Immediately, a different Jeremy began to pilot his brain. This one was one that had fantasized extensively. Jeremy imagined himself taller. Something like 6’5”, a height that would tower over his now 5’7” self. He imagined himself without his fat, he imagined a toned body. A muscular body. Open your eyes. Jeremy opened his eyes. What he saw made him aroused, excited, and also freaked out. He was growing. His body was stretching taller. Inch by inch, his legs got longer, his torso got bigger. The small layer of pudge around his midsection melted away revealing a surprisingly nice set of 4-pack abs. Jeremy began to understand what the ring could do, although he did not quite believe it. Play with it Jeremy. You know you want to. Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror. He had always wanted to be able to make himself the most attractive man in the world. It was a fantasy of his, to look better than all of the beautiful male models that he lusted after. The men with the muscular bodies, the men with lean bodies, defined bodies – like Sebs’ body. Jeremy thought of Sebs’ gifted figure. He could be so much more beautiful than Sebs. Jeremy could be anything that he wanted to be. Now that’s the kind of thinking I like. Remember what’s written. “I have unlimited potential.” The now tall and lean Jeremy smiled at himself in the mirror. He looked at his body. He imagined his body with 50 more pounds of muscle. He imagined himself at 180 lbs of ripped muscle. Instantly he felt his body heat up. His muscles almost seem to spasm, twitching and pulsing uncontrollably. It was euphoric. Jeremy felt himself growing bigger, and he peeled his shirt off of his growing body. He watched his neck become thick, his traps become corded with muscles. He wanted more than 180 lbs. How about 240 lbs? That would be good. He could still fit in somewhat well, though he would be unbelievably muscular and unbelievably handsome. Jeremy was going to be so much more than average. His waist tightened to a tiny 27 inches, and his back exploded in size. His pecs inflated as though they were balloons, jutting out of his chest with their dense and thick composition. His arms got bigger too, his shoulders expanding slowly into two boulders that would frame the rest of his body. His biceps swelled to at least 23 inches, and his forearms became thick with muscle. The growth hadn’t stopped in his upper body either. Jeremy’s jeans were becoming constricting to his now massive legs and calves. With a tiny flex of his godly ass, Jeremy pulverized his jeans. He liked the power his muscles brought him. The strength turned him on. Unlimited potential, Jeremy. You can change anything about anyone. With his suspicions confirmed, Jeremy willed himself to become stronger. His muscles became fuller, and his body almost glowed. He flexed his arm into the mirror hard, and his bicep sent out a shockwave. He smiled. He was infatuated by the power. He could have more if he wanted to, and he would, but he could wait just a little bit. It seemed as though he owed it to himself to have some fun with the ring. He looked at the small bulge in his briefs. He willed it to be bigger. Massive, but manageable. A foot long – erect, of course. His dick swelled in size, pulsing and becoming hard because of the pleasure that Jeremy felt thanks to the growth. He began to stroke his thick dick. He found it so hot. He imagined something he’d imagined before – every time he stroked his dick, he grew just a little bit bigger. His dick got a little bigger, and he grew just a little bit more muscle. This time, though, as he imagined it, it happened. The ring began to glow in gold as he stroked his dick, and his muscles expanded ever slightly, his cock becoming just a little longer. It sent Jeremy over the edge. He came all over his bathroom mirror. He flexed a little into the mirror, admiring his perfect form and figure. He was unstoppable now. And then Jeremy heard the door of his dorm open. Sebs had returned. Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror, looked at his dick, and smiled a cunning smile.
  3. Marvelous Man - Chapter 21

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1va_QP1NSQgduxt4gKPKujgkOQdP790ShBojSOWz6x6c) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, & SPECTRI All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1va_QP1NSQgduxt4gKPKujgkOQdP790ShBojSOWz6x6c) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, & SPECTRI Chapter 21: Insight Stepping through the exit of Sunnysville, Marvelous Man arrived back into his apartment from the closet door. The muscle demigod pulled the key out of the lock before closing the door behind himself. He gazed at his living room, as he turned around. It was still dimly lit with the light bulbs set to low and no sunlight in sight. Marvelous Man slowly made his way back to his bedroom. He glanced at a clock while passing by that had read half past three in the morning. His parents had no doubt kidnapped him soon after Gene fell asleep. Seconds had only ticked by in the real world, while the musclebound superhero got his rest in Sunnysville for however long it took before waking up. Opening the door to his room, he spotted Gene sleeping beneath the covers of his bed. Marvelous Man quietly undressed himself, while kicking away his articles of clothing to a side of the bedroom. The hulking bodybuilder then took soft steps towards the empty side of the bed; slipping underneath the sheets upon arrival. Marvelous Man laid his head against his pillow and turned to Gene. The Totochtin prince was in a deep sleep; giving off a small sigh with every few breaths. The white rabbit ears were relaxed and tucked behind Gene’s head like a sleeping rabbit. Marvelous Man continued to stare at his superhero partner, as his eyes slowly drifted back to sleep. >>>>>>>>>>>>>> The musclebound superhero awakened hours later, as the beams of morning sunlight cascaded through the bedroom windows. Gene stirred from slumber soon after Marvelous Man rose from his bed. As the two got ready to leave, they hardly said a word to one another. Both were preoccupied; Gene mentally contacting their mystical field analyst, Fairuza, and Marvelous Man texting. Marvelous Man could feel Gene emanating emotions of uncertainty but decided to question the bunny demigod after the meeting with Director Doug. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The two superheroes stood in front of the Demonic Authority Bureau headquarters. Marvelous Man stared off into the distance, as Gene leaned next to the entrance. Gene spoke up, “Who is it that we are doing the waiting for?” “A friend,” answered Marvelous Man. The musclebound superhero continued to watch the many people passing by the headquarters; heading down wherever the sidewalks took the citizens. Marvelous Man’s squinting finally broke into widened eyes, as he smiled. He then began waving his bulky arm at the public. He exclaimed, “There he is!” A skeletal ghoul dressed in a purple suit strolled towards the two with a relaxed gait. Sugar Skull appeared to have a cocky grin...though Marvelous Man could only sense it, since the limbo being had no facial skin or muscles. As the skeletal ghoul drew closer, Marvelous Man could hear Gene almost whispering at him in a hushed tone. “I would like to remind you that Doug will not be the pleased,” said Gene. Marvelous Man frowned, “Yeah, but this is important. We need to work together if the Skeleton Lord comes back. Besides, Sugar Skull saved my life, so Director Skye should be able bear him just this once.” Gene paused. He continued staring at the ghoul walking closer to them in a flamboyant style. The Totochtin prince stifled a giggle. “I cannot say the same for Puzzles,” smirked Gene. Marvelous Man grinned, “Heh, I bet he’s gonna flip. What do you think he’ll do?” “He will most likely stab the ghoul,” said Gene, “How did you manage to get the Sugar Skull’s phone number?” Marvelous Man replied, “He gave me his card a while back.” Upon the ghoul’s arrival, Marvelous Man exchanged hugs and pleasantries with him before heading inside the headquarters. Employees silently gawked at Sugar Skull, as the trio made their way towards the elevator. The limbo being made sure to flirt with every D.A.B. worker he passed by; giving out his business card with each one. From the people who looked at the cards, most wore a disgusted look on their faces. Others simply appeared to be intrigued. Arriving on the fifth floor, the three made their way towards the office of Director Skye. Marvelous Man allowed his friends to enter the room first before ducking inside. He made sure to tuck his head down to avoid banging his forehead against the doorframe. As he shut the door behind him, the air felt as if it had become heavy with tension. The musclebound superhero looked across the room to see his higher commands staring back at the trio. Director Skye was stationed behind his desk, and Puzzles was perched on top of the wooden furniture with an electronic scroll in his hands. The Director’s eyes were full of displeasure, while Puzzle’s was engulfed in fury. The smoke imp immediately tossed the electronic scroll onto the desk before standing up. Puzzles flashed his sharp, white fangs, as his hands began to glow a soft, blue light. He hissed in his thick, Russian accent, “YOU!” Sugar Skull stepped forward. The ghoul threw his arms up; his body language intentionally trying to draw attention towards himself. His purple teeth chattered in delight. “ME!” he shouted. A mystical rune appeared in front of the smoke imp’s hands for a brief second before shattering. In its place were a set of daggers; automatically settled in Puzzles’ grip. The hilt of the bladed weapons were striped in white and blue. The silver blade was accompanied by two smaller blades pointing out to the right and left; perfect for catching attacks. Puzzles leaned forward with his legs bent in preparation for a big leap. The Director calmly called out, “That’s enough, Puzzles.” Puzzles hesitated before slowly turning his head towards his master. His eyes, still clouded with fury, sparkled with confusion. “We do not attack invited guests...even if we were the ones who did not hand out the invitation. Until he instigates with ill intent, we simply cannot do harm against the Bruja’s ghoul,” stated Director Skye. Puzzles pointed his dagger at the ghoul, “HE is no guest, Boss! That is a thief! He has already done ill intent! We let him in once, and that fatherfucker steals one of our archived magical relics!” Sugar Skull took another step forward towards the witch and familiar. “I was actually borrowing, little imp. I gave it back,” countered Sugar Skull, “Besides, the Bruja did ask nicely with the promise of returning it. Even tried to pay with info. But you all said no, and I had no choice but to take it...Sorry, I mean borrow it.” As Puzzles opened his mouth to fire back, the Director spoke over his familiar. Though strained with little patience left in the tone of his voice, Doug tried to speak calmly in his Southern gentlemanly accent. “And what, pray tell, do you want to ‘borrow’ this time?” he said. Sugar Skull held up his index finger, “Actually, I’m here to offer my services and, uh, disclose important information. I didn’t want to come here at all either, but I can’t refuse my friend’s request when he needs help...And cause I need to kill the Skeleton Lord.” The Director and Puzzles paused before their eyes slowly shifted towards Gene Lightfoot. Gene’s eyebrows flexed in confusion, as it transformed into realization. The Totochtin prince shifted uncomfortably, as Gene stared back at the higher commands. “No, I am not the Sugar Skull’s friend! Why do you all think such the things?” replied Gene. Everybody else replied in unison, “Well…” “He’s made sexual advances on nearly every staff member he passed by. On the first day he came in before he stole our relic. You are the most likely to befriend him, because you never turn down sex,” stated Puzzles. Gene bit his lip. The rabbit superhero appeared to want to protest, but he then sighed with resignation a second later. Emotions of confliction emanated from him but lacked any intensity to emotionally influence the people around him. Marvelous Man spoke up, “Ummm, actually...he’s my friend. He’s the one who rescued me from the Skeleton Lord.” The Director looked up at the musclebound superhero. His left eyebrow lifted with curiosity, as he folded his hands in front of his mouth. “And I suppose there’s a long story to your great escape,” remarked Director Skye. Sugar Skull screamed, “GAH! Where did you two come from?” Marvelous Man watched the half-alive ghoul flinch back, as he recoiled in surprise from the scream. Tracing his eyesight towards the source of what frightened Sugar Skull, he saw two people sitting in the black lounge chairs against the office walls. Amidst the commotion with the Limbo being and Puzzles, Marvelous Man and Sugar Skull took no notice of the other guests in the room. Seated in the comfortable furniture was Fairuza; clutching onto her book whenever a stressful situation arose. In the other chair was Gemini. Flashbacks appeared in Marvelous Man’s mind at the memory of yelling at his friend, destroying a relationship, and then getting kidnapped by the PB&J Gang. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The master witch crossed his arms. Sugar Skull was in the midst of explanation before the Director interrupted. His eyes glinted with irritation, as his next words seemed to wretch out his mouth like a painful vomit. “So let me try to understand that last part. After you escaped into Limbo with Marvelous Man, you bargained the location of a Mana Stone in order to get away?” gritted Director Skye. Sugar Skull nodded, “That is correct, yes.” Puzzles pointed his dagger at the ghoul. Bloodlust raged in his eyes, as his fangs flashed once again. The glasses resting atop his nose began to fog. “Can I stab him now?!” snarled the smoke imp. The Director sighed, “Sadly, no.” “He gave away a Mana Stone, Boss! That kind of relic doesn’t just recharge energy on its own, it also multiplies a caster’s magical output! And he gave it away to a doomsday supervillain!” exclaimed Puzzles. Marvelous Man looked towards the ground; slightly hunching down. The guilt he had felt back in the pocket dimension diner came flooding back. He now wished that he had never been rescued, as it broke his heart that his superiors appeared intensely stressed. The hulking bodybuilder immediately perked up, as he felt something grab his hand. Looking over, he spotted Gene’s hand wrapped around his own. Marvelous Man could feel the bunny demigod’s calming emotions slowly rinse his guilt away. He could still sense small bits of anxiety in Gene’s broadcasted emotions, but the compassion was still sincere. The musclebound superhero stood up straight without realizing. Director Skye rubbed his temples, “Noted. But we got Marvelous Man back. And at the very least, Limbo is no easy place to cross. From what I remember, Limbo has different time zones reflecting eras of the people sent there during such eras. That said, Sugar Skull managed to buy us some time to prepare. Question is, how long?” “About two weeks at the very least. But best case scenario is that we’ve got a month or two. He might have the compass, but he could still get sidetracked or lost in a maze or something,” estimated Sugar Skull. The musclebound superhero’s mind glimpsed a film of memory. He remembered the hidden art fixture that could only be used with a certain glass marble. His wish for a happy ending hanged on his next words. Marvelous Man speaks up, “B-but that’s only if he can get back, right? Sugar Skull was the only one with a way out, so there’s no way he can get out…” Fairuza raised her hand before speaking up. All eyes had turned to her. “Well...actually...There’s more than one way to get out of Limbo. Sugar Skull just had the easiest. It’s most likely the Skeleton Lord will exit using the fog he created in the slums,” explained Fairuza. The hulking bodybuilder could feel his heart thump loudly, as his blood felt like it had become ice. He hoped that he would not hear what he was most likely going to hear. Marvelous Man just wanted this nightmare to be buried and left for dead. He hesitated“...You mean the fog that’s supposed to go away once the Skeleton Lord is trapped in Limbo?” “I’m sorry...but...no. No change in the fog has been reported since you’ve escaped. The fog could be feeding on an external power source. But due to its vast size, it’s hypothesized that the fog is still somehow connected to the Skeleton Lord. With that connection, he could somehow use it as a way out. Um, by the way, I’m glad you’re back and alive,” said Fairuza. The gravity on Marvelous Man’s heavy body seemed to have increased a hundredfold. His knees felt ready to give out, but the musclebound superhero held onto what will he had left to save face. The Skeleton Lord was soon to be overpowering and has a way back to return. He had barely survived when encountering the supervillain’s weakened state; doom was the only thing Marvelous Man could see in his foresight. Gemini jumped into the conversation, “We’ve tried to disperse the fog, but it seems to have a mind of its own. Wind magic and other such spells had no effect on it. Not even the tech from the Arkos Division could suck it up or blow it away.” “The magical researchers have managed to analyze the fog, and we discovered it’s actually essence. Ya know, life energy and such. No such records exists of such a phenomena, and the energy just refuses to be absorbed by anything. I’m not exactly sure what the fog is capable of, since it destroyed all the probes. But like Fairuza said, it’ll probably be used as the exit from Limbo,” he continued. The Director leaned back in his chair, “So we have two weeks to either think of a way to destroy the fog or stop the Skeleton Lord. And without hard evidence that the Skeleton Lord is an A-lister supervillain, we can’t call on the Nemesis Branch for help...makes me wish I had the absolute authority to label a threat level without evidence.” “Probably for the best we don’t, Boss. Don’t want to get hit with a discrimination lawsuit by some D-lister,” commented Puzzles. The master witch sighed through his nose, as he grunted with closed lips. Director Skye circled back to the topic, “That would definitely be unfortunate. So! We need some solutions, people. We are sitting in a pot ready to be lit, and the only people capable of handling this Skeleton Lord is in this room.” The ghoul gestured his hands to look like guns; pointing them at the master witch. “I’ve got you covered, Boss!” chimed Sugar Skull, “The Bruja is, ummm, enchanting some items to let two people other than myself travel into the fog, well...mostly undetected. Plus, it’ll decrease the accuracy against any attack that’s supposed to hit them. With it, we can go into the fog and kill the Skeleton Lord before he tries to attack the D.A.B.” The Director tapped his fingers together, “Not the best idea at the moment. But just to humor you, how long will this enchantment take?” “About two weeks,” said Sugar Skull. Gemini sputtered, “I’m sorry, but are you shitting me?!” “This is some very high magical stuff. It takes a week to make just one.” shrugged Sugar Skull. The smoke imp’s ears twitched. His eyes pointed towards the ground; bouncing left and right as if lost in thought. “Wait, why did you say the Skeleton Lord would try to attack the D.A.B.?,” questioned Puzzles, “You only gave him the location of the Mana Stone in Limbo...but then Boss interrupted you to repeat the...YOU DAUGHTER OF BLIGHT! YOU SET US UP!” Daggers raised, the witch’s familiar shifted itself back into his leaping stance. Smoke could literally be seen steaming out of his cat-like ears. “Sugar Skull, I do believe you should fess up. My patience with you continuously throwing people under the bus is melting faster than an ice cube on a black top. Did you give away the location of the D.A.B.’s Mana Stone?” frowned Director Doug. Sugar Skull crossed his arms, “I did. And I’d do it again to save Marvelous Man.” Seconds ticked by, as all sound in the room seemed to have ceased. The Director slowly inhaled a long breath through his nose before letting it all out in an equally long nasal exhale. His eyes seemed to grow cold and distant; as if he were trying to suppress and intense rage. The master witch’s left hand glowed with a blue hue, while flicking his wrist in a circular motion. A runic symbol flickered on the office door behind Marvelous Man for a moment before disappearing; causing the door to slowly swing open. “Everybody but Sugar Skull, you can all leave now. We will reconvene tomorrow with hopefully some new ideas to take care of this problem. In the meanwhile, I will have...a little chat with Mr. Skull here. Dismissed.” said Director Skye. The spinning, yellow flowers in Sugar Skull’s eyes transformed into red exclamation points. He turned to Marvelous Man; appearing to be silently begging for help. Marvelous Man could only look away with shame. The D.A.B. members obeyed without question; power walking as fast as they could towards the office’s door. In such a hurry, Marvelous Man nearly bumped his head against the top of the door frame upon ducking through the opened door. As Gemini was the last person to exist, the door instantaneously shut itself behind the Soulem. The sound of a cat screeching echoed from the office, as a loud thud reverberated after the feline screech. At the same time, the shoulders of the exited D.A.B. members flinched. Gene turned to his partner “Marvelous Man. Do you have the moment? I would like to talk to you about something important in the training room.” “Um, yeah. Sure.” immediately nodded Marvelous Man. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> At the basement level of the D.A.B. headquarters, the two partners stepped out of the elevator. Marvelous Man noticed that Gene was definitely not being his usual talkative self. The morning of almost no verbal exchange could have been due to everybody being busy with something, but the Totochtin prince did not even utter a single word during the elevator ride down to the training room. Marvelous Man could not help but feel uneasy at what was going to happen next. The only thing the musclebound superhero could feel from the bunny demigod was a sense of trepidation. As they continued, the two came to a fork in the pathway. The left path branched off to a set of doorways leading into the training room. As for the path on the right, it led into the control room that altered the state of the training room. Gene gestured at the training room doors, “Could you please head into the training room? I will join shortly. I must do the calibrations in the control room first.” “Okay,” said Marvelous Man. Complying with his friend, the hulking bodybuilder continued onward towards the left path. He made sure to duck his head, while opening the door to the training room. Marvelous Man’s heart thumped with nervousness; he hoped he was not somehow being led into a trap. The inside of the training room was empty; as it usually is. The interior stretched to the size of a baseball field and was completely matted with white tiles. Marvelous Man remembered a brief explanation on his first day in this room about how each tile carried an enchantment. The enchantments not only absorbed attacks, but could also create a temporary pocket dimension with unlimited space. And with some combination of science, the training room could print three dimensional objects with certain levels of intelligence to create artificial danger. While walking towards the center, the tiles began to hum. The tiles then flipped over one by one to reveal a color. The colors did nothing at first until the amount of flipped tiles multiplied to an insurmountable count Marvelous Man could not keep up with. Nearly at completion, the colors had begun to coalesce with each other. The mixtures began to form shapes, brightness, and sound. The shifting continued, while Marvelous Man began to notice a design pattern of the new world around him taking shape. It was daytime, and the muscle demigod was now standing on the rooftop of a building. The edges of the rooftop were fenced off; the reasons as to why seemed obvious. Marvelous Man then spotted pink cherry blossom petals drifting in front of them as well as its sweet scent. Turning around, he spotted the origin. A plot of dirt was somehow established in the center of the rooftop with a gigantic cherry blossom tree sprouting out of it. It casted a shade nearly big enough to encompass the whole rooftop. Beneath the tree was a small wooden bench; big enough to only seat two people. The scenery reminded the hulking bodybuilder of scenes from dating sim games and romance animes. Marvelous Man heard the sound of a squeaky door and turned his head to see a rooftop access door stationed further behind the tree at the other end of the roof. The opening door revealed Gene, as the Totochtin prince stepped through. Gene carried his usual calm smile, but his eyes betrayed it with unease. Marvelous Man waved, “Hey, Gene. This is...nice.” “Yes, it is,” replied Gene, “Like your people’s saying, I have taken a page out of the book. I have researched from the outsider media that when one wishes to confess their true feelings that could mend or break the heart, one must do it on top of the high school building. Also, the cherry blossom petals must be involved. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to request access to any of the high school's rooftop. So I borrowed this setting from the co-worker that likes to do the roleplaying in here.” “Uh-huh…” said Marvelous Man. Gene motioned to the bench, “Please, let us do the sitting.” The muscle demigod nodded and followed his friend back to the bench beneath the cherry blossom tree. His heart thumped with excitement, as he had seen enough anime to know where this going. The wooden bench gave a slight groan, as the hulking bodybuilder tried to gently adjust himself to the seat. With the bench being of a small size, Marvelous Man was in close proximity of Gene with their knees touching each other. His body flushed with intense body heat. The musclebound superhero felt like he had turned into a human furnace; not even the breezing winds helped cool him. Gene stared out at the expanse beyond the rooftop’s fence. His lips curled slightly inwards; the bottom of it being bitten. Seconds passed by, while Gene appeared to be lost in thought. “...I wanted to talk about the last night…” he spoke. Marvelous Man looked down at Gene, “What about last night?” “The last night...in your exhaustion, you said something very profounding. I realize now that you have none of the recollection due to the fatigue, but you meant every word,” explained Gene. Marvelous Man hesitated “Oh...uhhh, wh-...what did I say?” “You told me that you loved me,” answered Gene. The hulking bodybuilder’s eyes bulged, “Oh…” Marvelous Man’s thoughts were screaming into an invisible void. Howling at how he could have done such a thing. He could not remember saying that and felt embarrassed due to it. His large hands gripped the edge of the bench; fighting the urge to run or fly away. He then saw Gene turning to look up at him. “I deeply apologize! I do not mean to cause you any of the embarrassment,” said Gene, “I honestly enjoyed you saying that. My people have said that same thing to me, but...the intensity of the emotions in your words were far greater than any Totochtin ever uttering it.” The Totochtin prince continued, “It was like the many lovers in the outside world. I have sampled it before and found it rather cute. But to be given that emotion directly...it was scary. I never had any of the troubles of trying to recreate the same emotions I feel from others in order to bond well with them.” Gene stood up before stepping in front of Marvelous Man. The bunny demigod kneeled down on knee, as he slowly reached out. Gently grabbing the hulking bodybuilder’s hand, he held it out between themselves. “I am sorry, Marvelous Man. But I cannot love you the same way you love me,” he said. Marvelous Man blinked, “...Huh? Wh-what?” “I...I tried to say it back to you last night. That I loved you...but I could not. I was unable to match the same level of the magnitude that you did with the sharing of your true emotions,” explained Gene. He continued, “We must stop the dating. I realize now that I was treating your feelings like a game and was doing the ‘leading you on’. You saw the dates as more than just a fun activity. They were the bonding exercise that had the hopes of eventually causing me to see you the same way you see me. And perhaps...there were times when it came to the close of that. But it was never enough. My ideals of love. My culture kept me from aligning to the same level of how you feel about me.” This was not what Marvelous Man wanted. Gene was supposed to love him back! Then they would become lovers and have a happily ever after. He needed to save this. It was all he had left! “Th-then! We, uh, we should keep dating! Maybe, m-maybe…” stammered Marvelous Man. Gene shook his head, “It would not be right to you nor me. Perhaps if we kept doing the dating it could turn out exactly how you wanted. But such a thing would only result in hurting us in the end. That is the time that is wasted for trying to grow something that cannot grow. I am sorry Marvelous Man, but I cannot force myself to be the something that I am not.” Marvelous Man froze. The last part of what the Totochtin prince said had shaken a recent memory back into focus. He had said something similar to his mother; causing the goddess of love to question him what was the difference with what he was doing in the real world. ...Was he no different than his parents? Trying to contain a person they loved and assuming everything else will fall into place in exactly how they wished? He had experienced the receiving end of that thinking first hand, and he hated it. Treated as an object with no will of his own. He was no toy. And just because someone loved him gave them no right to tell him how to act, feel, or was entitled to only them...and neither was Gene. “Holy shit...I think I get it now…” realized Marvelous Man. Gene’s face flexed in confusion, “What?” Marvelous Man cupped his other hand around Gene’s. His mind flashed back to all the dates and interactions with the rabbit demigod. It was so obvious now! Was he just stupid or willfully ignorant of all the signs of their compatibility? Gemini pointed it all out, but he had refused to connect the dots...It appeared he was both. “I’m...I’m sorry too, Gene. I should’ve known better. You’re right. We’re great friends, but...we’re just not meant for each other. We’re too different in a lot of ways with almost nothing we can be on the same level with. Being able to empathize your loneliness shouldn’t be the only thing we have in common. It shouldn’t even be the only similarity we share! And you weren’t forcing yourself to be something you’re not…I was. You were one of the few good things that happened to me since I got here, and I thought we were sorta meant to be since you were the first guy I felt attracted to. And I guess deep down, I was also afraid of losing you,” he admitted. Gene stood up, “Marvelous Man...you will never lose me. You are the kindest outside man I know. I may have been the frustrated that we never had sex, but I treasured more that you wished to understand me.” Bending down, the Totochtin prince kissed Marvelous Man’s head. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, as he closed his eyes. “I may not be able to love you, but you will always be my favorite,” said Gene. Marvelous Man felt tears welling up in his eyes, as he felt a flood of sadness drowning his heart. He looked up to see his friend crying. The muscle demigod’s eyebrows flexed in confusion. He smiled, “Why are you crying? It should be me that’s crying.” “Because I could not make you the happy, Marvelous Man. I failed. Everyone else I have ever tried to befriend, I could easily make them the happy by feeling their emotions. But I failed you. You are my first. And I had none of the other choices but to reject you for your own happiness. I’m sorry,” sobbed Gene. Marvelous Man stood up and hugged Gene, “Don’t be. It hurts a bit that we can’t love each other like lovers, but we can still love each other as friends. Being your partner and being part of your life. That’s enough for me to be happy with you. It’s scary, but...I think I’ll eventually find someone. Someone that I could love, and they’d love me back. Someone I can be honest with...and even tell them my real name.” “Marvelous Man is not your real name?” sniffed Gene. The musclebound superhero sighed, “No. It’s not. It was a real Dickasaurus Rex thing for me to do...I was kinda afraid you wouldn’t like the real me. Marvelous Man is more interesting. Less emotionally unstable...And he wouldn’t have run away if you actually said that you loved me back.” “It is the shameful that I could not meet the real you. It could have been the fun. But..I am sure someone else loves the real you,” said Gene. Marvelous Man dryly swallowed, “There was someone...but I burned that bridge with him. He was being an asshole, but...I’m guilty of also leading him on. I don’t think we could even be friends again after I yelled at him and broke his heart.” Gene hugged back. The muscle demigod no longer felt Gene’s sadness. He instead felt a comforting love; a love that is felt between family and friends. “I am sure he wants to be the friends with you. And it might be the hard, but you must try to take the first step and forgive him. It is alright if you do not wish to do it now. But you cannot wait forever. Time can heal the wounds, but you must make the effort to bandage it up,” consoled the bunny demigod. Marvelous Man sobbed, “Thanks, Gene.” The two embraced each other for an unknowable amount of time. It had felt like eternity beneath the forever-blooming cherry blossom tree, as the two bathed in each others' emotions. Sharing love. Next Chapter
  4. Hey guys! I know it has been a while since I last wrote. The story is pretty much still unfinished but I realized that having all the chapters spread out wasn't helping either. My plan now is to post all the chapters here, edited of course, this being so if you reread you will get a little extra fun from it. I'll also be posting progress pics within the story of the character,Vonny, who is based off of me and has very similar muscle progress. This way you can imagine how the character is growing a little better along with reading. I will also be posting pics from the web of what other characters look like and some scenery in order for you all to fully experience everything. Thanks for being patient and I hope you all will enjoy. Leave a comment if you have and questions or ideas!
  5. Marvelous Man - Chapter 17

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ttWgu6jKoc52k89119nNB9i67VQz9vzRdVRrizgSR1I) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: CHRISTOPHER FLOYD & DONALD MORGAN All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ttWgu6jKoc52k89119nNB9i67VQz9vzRdVRrizgSR1I) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: CHRISTOPHER FLOYD & DONALD MORGAN Chapter 17: The Cobwebs of Sunnysville “Wait, that’s it?” frowned Gemini. Justice nodded, “Yeah.” “Just walk on through?” inquired Gemini. Justice answered back, “Yeah...I thought you said this was dimensional magic. You know how it works, right?” “Well, yeah, point A to point A2 instantly, but what we’re about to do is teleportation magic. Point A to point B...Assuming that…Sunnysville is in this realm...right?” hesitated Gemini. The Soulem stared into the closet that had the silver key in it. With it finally opened, Gemini was able to look at where the destination of the magical closet led to. His eyes laid upon the drab, white interior walls of the CashIThere loan office; the building that held the entrance and exit to Sunnysville. “Why does the other side look like the inside of a sad office building?” he questioned. Justice explained, “Well, my parents didn’t want me to accidentally find the door that led outside of Sunnysville to this apartment. So they hid it inside of a loan shark office, cause it’d be the last place I’d ever want to explore. But even if I did find it, I still needed the key to get through it. So I’m not sure why they hid it…” “Not so much the sharpest tools in the shed, huh?” remarked Gemini. The bodybuilder thought back to the childhood he had with his parents in Sunnysville. He remembered how they loved to overkill with dramatics, which caused them to overthink certain issues. The thought of his tenth birthday sprung to his mind. He wanted a bike, they gave him a motorcycle. Papa Ares included a helmet and joint pads for safety. Reflecting back on that event, Justice was now glad he was too small to get up on that motorcycle. He loved his parents dearly, but none of them are gods pertaining to intellectual features. His father, Apollo, might have been the exception for his deity over medicine and art, but his brightness was not the kind that helps one understand math problems. As for Ares, using weapons and a passion for violent outcomes does not at all require a brain cell. Justice’s mother, Aphrodite, causes the lower body to do the thinking; a skill she can pull off even in sweatpants and a moth-eaten t-shirt. Justice smiled, “I mean...huh...now that I think about it, they overspecialize so much in their areas that they have almost no foresight...and maybe common sense. I guess that’s what happens when wisdom isn’t their defining characteristic, heh.” “Same could be said about you,” sassed Gemini, “Welp, let’s head into town then. Lead the way in, slave. Now mush!” Gemini jostles the Dragon Pearls™ cord as if he were cracking a whip or the reins of a dog sled. Justice sighed, as he rolled his eyes and smirked. He wanted to tell Gemini to quit it, but the third wish would remain active until the Dragon Pearls™ were completely out of his bowels. Instead of feeling frustrated, his heart palpitated at the excitement of showing Sunnysville to his friend. The musclebound slave grabbed the silver key from the closet door; not wanting to be accidentally trapped on the other side when they closed the portal door. With no pocket to place the keys in, Justice kept it within his grasp. Strolling through the door with his ankle bells ringing, the hulking bodybuilder led the bulky Soulem through the dimensional doorway. It felt weird to walk into another world in such a casual manner and arrive in an area that was completely dull and empty. As Gemini closed the door behind them, the Soulem shivered. “Whoah,” said the Soulem. Justice looked back, “What’s wrong?” “I just got cut off from the wifi. Can’t access the cloud or anything. It feels weird to not have information at my fingertips. I’ve only felt like this during the few minutes I was first activated and when I transitioned to my new body,” answered Gemini. Justice asked, “Umm, do you want the password for the city wifi here?” “I’d very much like that. Thanks,” replied Gemini. Justice spoke, “It’s ‘flamingchariot’. One word, all lowercase.” He continued thumping his musclebound body through the empty hallway; echoing the jingling ankle bells on his gold-plated slave ankle cuffs. The two walked towards the end of the hallway and came to face with a door. Opening it, Justice strode through and arrived in the lobby. It looked the same as when he first came to this loan office. A place that reflected broken dreams and false hopes. A place that had metal bars on the windows, old black gum grouped with mysterious stains on the dark blue carpet, and the aged fluorescent bulbs with moths circling about it like sharks. Justice figured such a scenery would be the picture definition of shithole. Heading to the lobby’s counter, he spotted the miserable-looking clerk. She sat behind the white counter, reading a magazine with a lit cigarette in hand. The unkempt woman looked up at Justice; her hair still messy enough to serve as a bird’s nest and her coke-bottle glasses completely cracked. Upon eye contact through the counter’s bullet hole-riddled glass divider, she took a long puff of her cigarette. She exhaled in a deep, cracked voice, “Fuck off. Can I help you?” Justice flexed his eyebrow at the absurdity. He had forgotten how crass the clerk was. Saying nothing, the bodybuilder placed the silver key on the counter. Gemini stared at the messy clerk, while his mood rings switched to the color orange. “Well, aren’t you such a ray of sunshine cunt,” commented Gemini. As Justice turned away, the unkempt woman went back to reading her magazine. The bodybuilder smiled at Gemini’s remark; feeling happy that his friend came to defend him. He then remembered that his friend was defending him from a fake being who could only say one thing. Gemini frowned, “Mmhmm. Better check that attitude of yours next time.” “It’s fine, Gem. Let’s just go,” said Justice. The bodybuilder continued making his way towards the entrance with the Soulem following behind him. Pushing open the door, Justice strode outside. He looked about himself and noticed how odd it was that the location of a loan office was dark even during the day. Gemini huffed, “What a bitch. You don’t have to take that, you know.” “I know, but it’s okay. I think she was put there to keep me away from the portal if I ever got curious,” replied Justice. The Soulem remarked, “Then I dunno why she’s still got that attitude if you’re already using the portal. Then again, if I looked at her, I’d stop giving a shit about what I say to people too.” “It’s just how she is,” said Justice. The musclebound slave looked up at the sign of the CashIThere loan office. A few of the dull, yellow neon letters were still burnt out that made it seem like it was displaying “shIThere”. Justice smirked at the lit sign; causing Gemini to follow the bodybuilder’s gaze and transforming the mood rings to a shade of light blue. Apollo tried his very best to make the scene in front of Justice unapproachable yet a tad comedic. Gemini smiled, “Heh, shit here.” “Yeah. Or shit there,” spoke Justice. Gemini giggled, “Well, it’s definitely shit.” “It is,” said Justice, “Come on, I gotta show you the rest of Sunnysville. It definitely looks better than this.” “Let’s hope,” grinned Gemini. As the two began their walk again, Gemini looked down. The Soulem stared at the bodybuilder slave’s globular buttocks. It was inflated with so much muscle and fat, that it wobbled like two giant water balloons with every step Justice took. Gemini’s digital white eyes lingered on the glutes for a moment before descending onto the Dragon Pearls™ sticking out of the bodybuilder’s pumped anus. The color of his mood rings changed to black, as his eyes drifted to the three exposed orange orbs. Gemini would have to issue five more commands before the entire sex toy can be taken out of Justice’s rectum. The Soulem ordered, “I wish you couldn’t stop preeing!” Gemini yanked the cord that was attached to the silver ring on his finger. The fourth crystal ball exited the slave’s virgin hole with a loud, wet plop. Justice gasped, “GAH! FATHERFUCKER!!!” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Upon leaving the dark zone that held the CashIThere office, the two were immediately embraced by the sunlight Justice was familiar with. The duo continued their walk upon the sidewalk, while they took in the sights. Justice’s dark skin could feel the warm rays of the bright sun, and the cool breeze gracing against it. Another normal day in Sunnysville where the temperature was perfect, and it only rained on Mondays. “Gotta say, the weather here is kinda tropical. It feels nice,” mentioned Gemini. Justice nodded, “Yeah. It’s always perfect here.” The bodybuilder stopped in his tracks, as he felt the Dragon Pearls™ inside of him tug like an anal leash. Looking behind himself, Justice spotted Gemini gazing at the property on their right. “Guessing that’s Sunnysville’s high school?” pointed Gemini. The overly-muscular slave followed to where the Soulem indicated. Next to the two was an open football field, yet the Soulem finger was not aimed there. Across the sporty landscape was a large grade-school campus. The architecture stood three stories high and was made up of three buildings interconnected with one another. Planted next to the education facility was a large sign colored in yellow and orange. Printed on the sign in giant letters was, “Sunnysville School. Proud home of the Flaming Chariots”. Underneath the words was the school’s mascot; a being made out of wooden wheels with eyes covering the outer rims. The wheeled abomination was also embalmed in fire. Justice answered, “Yeah. But it’s also my middle and elementary school. It’s a small town, so all the schools got made into one big building.” “Huh. So how’d an angelic Throne get turned into a mascot? I get why it can be called a chariot, but it’s just inaccurate,” inquired Gemini. Justice explained, “A long time ago, I entered in a school contest for redesigning the flaming chariot mascot. And since I was playing this one game that had a whole bunch of mythological characters in it that you can summon, I found Throne in it and got the idea to use it for the contest. I ended up winning, and that’s how it became our school mascot.” The Soulem looked up at Justice; his mood rings now becoming gray. “Huh? But you didn’t you say you were homeschooled?” said Gemini. The sound of a school bell rang in the air, as Justice was about to reply. Students then poured out of campus building; heading to their respective homes. Justice spoke, “Come on. Let’s go. I want to get out of here before Greggory shows up.” The Soulem followed Justice’s lead, as they resumed their walk. The sidewalk the two walked on drew closer to the school before coming upon a split that one led towards the school and the other leading to a street crosswalk. “Who’s Greggory?” he asked. Justice sighed, “A childhood best friend I would hang out with from time to time. We did stuff together but never really talked.” “And he’s still in high school?” questioned Gemini. The bodybuilder replied, “He never graduated.” Greggory was another thing from Justice’s past he did not want to think about. Another android from Sunnysville that was incapable of socializing. He was another object in Sunnysville that Justice thought was a person. The moment Justice decided as a child that they were best friends, it was a role Greggory never stopped playing. It was another role Justice was trapped in. As Justice began to set foot on the crosswalk, he heard a young boy’s voice calling out to him. “Hey, buddy! Let’s hang out!” shouted the boy. The musclebound slave muttered, “Shit.” Looking down the concrete sidewalk leading towards the school, Justice spotted a young boy in a simple white t-shirt and jeans running towards him. The boy looked to be about the age of a high school teenager and waved at him while running at a speed faster than any normal child could possibly run. The child’s running pattern was almost like a machine running at top acceleration and was unhindered by the hefty backpack attached to the school boy’s back. “Holy hell, he can run. I’m guessing that’s Greggory,” commented Gemini. The teenager reached the massive bodybuilder in seconds. He immediately stopped exactly one step away from Justice and looked up at overly-muscular slave. The child showed no sign of exhaustion, and no sweat could be seen running down his white skin. The school boy smiled, “Hey, Justice, buddy. Let’s hang out. We can go to the mall and play at the arcade.” Every part of Justice wanted to talk to Greggory; as if he were reacting to a muscle memory. But he knew that it would just be taking part in a lie. Justice willed himself to ignore the teenager and look back at Gemini. He knew that as long as he did not make eye contact or say its name, the android would not respond to whatever he said. “J-Just ignore him. He’ll probably go away if we keep walking,” he said. Gemini frowned, “What? No. That’s rude, dude. He’s your childhood best friend.” “I don’t want to,” gritted Justice. Gemini commanded, “I wish you’d talk to him!” The Soulem yanked on the Dragon Pearls™. Another orange orb popped out of Justice’s wet rectum with a loud plop. The musclebound slave bent forward, as his muscles seized. He could feel his insides feel more vacant, while the pleasures of having his hole stretched electrified his hulking body. The bodybuilder’s bulge twitched, and its wet spot began to drip manly fluid at an increased rate. “NGH!...Hi, Greggory,” compelled Justice. Greggory chatted, “So you want to hang out?” “Maybe next time,” answered Justice. Greggory smiled, “Okay. Catch you later then. I’m gonna head home and eat my veggies before doing my homework and telling my parents that I love them.” The fake best friend turned robotically towards the crosswalk and took off. It continued to run at the same charging speed when it first approached Justice. “That’s an odd thing to say. What is he, a Saturday morning cartoon character for five year olds?” remarked the Soulem, “And I’m kinda surprised he never looked at me once. He just had laser-eye focus on you with those creepy blue doll eyes of his.” Justice muttered, “I guess…” “I’m kinda more surprised that he didn’t say anything about what you’re wearing. Or even that you’re leaking pre. Seriously, you’re leaving behind a snail trail with your own goo,” said Gemini. The musclebound slave did his best to ignore his situation but was still completely aware of the predicament. The silver spandex pouch with the golden letters “IT” printed on was nearly soaked. Over the span of time it took to walk from the loan office to the Sunnysville school, the wet blotch on Justice’s sexual package had grown far enough to reach the golden cock ring. The pre-ejaculate that had gathered at the tip like a dewdrop had now dripped every few seconds like a leaky faucet. Whatever strands or drops of pre that did not collide with Justice’s enormous thighs or feet would leave trails of large, raindrop-sized liquids on the sidewalk. Justice reasoned, “He only notices when I say yes or no, or when we do something together.” “Weird,” frowned Gemini. The bodybuilder huffed, “So, is there anything else you’re gonna force me to do, Master? Cause I’d like to show you my old home.” Upon hearing the comment, Gemini’s mood ring changed to black. “Ohhhh. I like the sound of that,” cooed the Soulem. Gemini ordered, “I wish that you’d address me as Master, and that your name and pronouns are changed to Slave.” The husky Soulem yanked his hand back as if he were starting up a lawn mower. Slave’s donut-shaped hole emitted a squishy plop, while the sixth ball of the Dragon Pearl™ toy came out of it. Slave moaned at lower octave, as the bodybuilder lurched backwards. Slave’s spandex-encased pouch twitched; increasing the rate of precum drops to resemble a faucet partially turned on. “That’s two wishes!” Slave grunted. Master shrugged, “The Dragon Pearls™ beg to differ. I guess conjunctions are a loophole, since they combine two sentences into one.” The hulking bodybuilder turned to Master and squinted down at the Soulem. “...Slave hate you so much,” frowned Slave. Master grinned, “Hey, at least I didn’t use that for my eighth wish. That would’ve really fucked you over, since the last one is permanent.” Slave rolled his eyes before turning around to face the crosswalk. Part of him did enjoy being controlled by Master, but it was still humiliating. Slave knew that telling the Soulem how the slave felt would arouse the Soulem even further. “Just don’t wish for something that would make Slave’s life difficult. Slave don’t want it to affect Slave’s ability to fight,” said the bodybuilder. As the two crossed the road, Master’s mood ring returned to white. He inquired, “Oh, yeah. That reminds me. Where did you get that name from? Marvelous Man, I mean.” “Slave’s parents kept saying they wanted to make Slave a marvelous hero. It stuck to Slave, and Slave thought it described Marvelous Man’s powers perfectly. And since Sl-...Marvelous Man found out that he is not as super as he thought he was, being marvelous is fine,” explained Slave. Master smiled, “Ah, looks like you found a loophole in my wish, heh. So what is your rank? Well, Marvelous Man’s rank.” “Rank-D. But it’s fine. Marvelous Man has accepted it. He might not be the best fighter, but he can be the best supporter. He likes it now, because he is more useful in other ways that other supers can’t,” said Slave. Master nodded, “That’s cool. Being able to heal is very rare. That kind of ability really helps cut corners on healthcare funding for all our heroes. Probably won’t be long until the Nemesis Branch tries to recruit you. It’s pretty much the golden ticket of superpowers.” “They kinda already did. But they told Marvelous Man to come back to them when he becomes a C-Rank,” mentioned Slave, “So if healing superpowers help cutting costs, are magical healers in demand?” Master sighed, “Eh, not really. Healing magic is rarely picked up as a magical profession unless you live in a low-income area. Why learn how to incantate a complicated spell on the battlefield when a soldier with basic first aid can bandage themselves up or use Arkos Division’s medical gel or whatever cure-all brand they’ve invented.” “So why not make healing potions or magic beans or something?” questioned Slave. Master exclaimed, “Ha! Only the D.A.B. bothers to keep up that practice. Ignoring the time it takes to make it, it can get pretty costly getting the materials and energy from the arcane practitioners to mass produce it for lots of people. Once again, why bother going through all that when you can science the problem with a bunch of machines with a handful of scientists and engineers.” With the way Master framed the usefulness of magic, why bother even having it in the first place? Slave knew if magic is truly outdated, then the Demonic Authority Bureau would have died out a long time ago. Slave wanted to believe that there is some reason magic is bothered to still be used. “You’re kinda making it seem like magic is…ya know, obsolete,” commented Slave. Master replied, “It does. But there are some things that magic can do, that science can’t. Kinda like you.” “Plus, magic is still used a lot in the middle and low-income areas. Ironically, it’s cheaper for them to use it than to try to purchase medicine or whatever. Some have been able to improvise with whatever they got around the house, and the magical researchers have been losing their shit over that,” continued Master, “There’s also a current rise in witches with the high schoolers and younger kids, cause magic is trending as the cool new thing to do.” Slave thought it seemed like such an odd thing for children to get into. As Slave thought about the only witch the massive bodybuilder met so far, Director Skye, Slave realized something. The reason why minors would become witches is more than likely because of the fluffy, impish perk that came with it. “Slave has a rough idea of why they would probably become witches,” said Slave. Master spoke, “Hm. Hey, do you think you could ask Puzzles more about it? I heard that he’s pissed about all those kids summoning their own familiars, and I want to know why. I thought he’d have liked to see more imps running amongst the populace or something.” “Sure, Slave guess,” said the slave. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The two continued their walk around town, as Slave explained the locations. All the stores were still functional but had thick layers of dust covering the shelves and displays. Only the objects the androids were programmed to interact with were the only clean ones. Master had made efforts to talk to the robots, but they continued to ignore his existence. Slave made the effort to distract the Soulem, but Master’s mood ring would eventually flicker back and forth with purple and orange. The Soulem stated, “So it only rains here on Mondays.” “Yeah,” nodded Slave. Master frowned, “That’s weird.” “I mean, it was weirder to Slave that it rains whenever in Skyway City,” said Slave. Gemini paused, “...That’s how it works anywhere in the world.” Slave did not reply, as Master looked up at the clear, blue sky. “Ya know, I’d ask if there’s some weather magic happening, but there’s something else permeating in this whole town. It’s like...magic but not magic. And it smells like rain too,” spoke the Soulem. Slave flexed an eyebrow, “You can smell magic?” Master tapped the tip of his large, silver nose, as his mood rings transformed to the color gold. “Yeppers. I had my nose modified to smell not just the normal stuff. It picks up on magic’s unique frequencies, and then my brain translates it into scent. So things like curses would smell like rotting meat to me,” explained Gemini. Slave grinned, “That’s probably the third most surprising thing about you today.” “Oh? Was the first my sexy new body?” flirted the Soulem. Slave giggled, “That was actually the second. Slave knew you’d eventually get a new body, but Slave did not think it would be so sexy.” “It was actually finding out that you were Chinese,” recanted the bodybuilder. Master’s mood ring color transitioned to gray. “Huh?” he said. Slave reasoned, “The Director said your last name is Master, right?...You know what Slave mean. Isn’t it Chinese?” As the best friends turned into a culdesac neighborhood, the color of Master’s mood ring became white. “Ohhhhh. Yeah, my dad is Chinese-American, so I identify as that too. Especially when my dad brought me back to China for a family get-together for the Chinese New Years. But nobody has ever questioned that, even though my last name is Yin,” answered Gemini. Master inquired, “So I’m guessing you’re a mixed race or just pure black?” “Slave mean...Slave think Slave Greek even though Slave black,” shrugged Slave. Looking ahead, Slave spotted a structure he spent a better part of his life in. Slave noticed the painted colors fade with age, as the hulking bodybuilder drew closer. It was a three-story house that was painted in coats of red, pink, and yellow. Any other person would have seen it as a life-sized dollhouse with no coordinated colors. Slave pointed, “That’s Slave’s home.” “Huh...not as luxurious compared to your apartment. Do any of your parents still live here? Cause your house...has not been well-maintained,” remarked Master. The two arrived in front of aged house, as Slave placed a hand on the old white picket fence stationed in front of Slave’s old home. Slave could feel splinters ready to prick his skin; a sign of being weathered down without any recent history of repair. Looking down, Slave saw the grass grown to shin-engulfing heights with spiky weeds poking out. Seeing such sights reminded Slave of old lady Judy’s lawn. It must have been a jungle by now. Slave then also spotted a trail created by the greenery being beaten down many times; leading from the old, wooden gate to the house’s front door. Slave frowned, “No. They left when Slave did.” “Hello there, neighbor!” said a man. Glancing up, Slave spotted an anthropomorphic moose standing in the lawn next door. The moose was dressed in khakis and a sweater with glasses. It stood there doing its usual routine every afternoon; watering the lawn. Slave could feel the old habit taking over. Slave waved, “Hi, Mister Wilson.” “Lovely weather, isn’t it. So swell,” spoke James. Slave nodded, “Yeah, it is.” The hulking bodybuilder turned to the gate and opened it. Leading Slave’s friend onto the grassy path, Slave could hear the Soulem call to Slave. “Wait, that’s a transpecies! You said you didn’t know they existed! There’s one right over there! Your next door neighbor!” accused Master. “He’s not transpecies,” said Slave, “He’s not even a real person.” The Soulem huffed, “What does tha-GAH!” Slave spun around upon hearing Master scream. The Soulem was hunched over; attempting to balance itself from what he just tripped on. “I’m okay...the hell did I trip on?” said Master. Slave gazed down at the object protruding onto the path. Slave could see a flat tire with rusted spokes. Squatting down with the wet spandex package touching the beaten grass, the massive bodybuilder parted the grown grass. The slave replied, “It’s...Slave’s bike.” Master looked at the object. The golden cruiser Slave once rode was now covered in rust. Parts of it, including the handles, had broken off some time ago and had become lost in the sea of grass. Slave left it on the lawn the same day the hulking bodybuilder left Sunnysville after discovering the new powers. Slave wondered how much time passes in Sunnysville. “Geeze, it’s rusted all over and broken into bits. How long did you leave it out?” said the Soulem. Slave answered, “A couple months ago. Right before Slave moved to Skyway City.” “Dude, just what the hell is going on. Nobody here acknowledges my existence, the store interiors are covered in dust, and your old house is the only one that looks like nobody has been in for years. And, my gosh, I can’t even connect to the cloud or usual servers. I’m only finding tidbits of history and current events. There’s not even a year available on the internet calendar! I’m wracking my mind thinking you used to be part of some cult, or you’re from another dimension, or if this is some weird playground kind of deal. You just...You need to tell me now, bro,” said Master. Slave could see the stress and confusion in Master’s eyes. The pain in Slave’s heart upon seeing it felt like a hundred knives stabbing into it. The musclebound bodybuilder tried to carefully ease the Soulem into Sunnysville and its culture, but it was obviously not enough. Slave knew what Slave had to do. The bodybuilder started, “Slave…” “Okay, I’m no longer entertained by this. I wish my previous wish was nulled. Speak normally,” commanded Gemini. The Soulem walked past the slave, as he pulled on the cord of the Dragon Pearls™. The seventh orange ball plopped out of Justice’s hole with a soft, wet noise. Justice groaned from the stretching pleasure, and an increased vacancy within the bodybuilder’s bowels. The glistening pre-ejaculate gushed with an increased flow from his wet, spandex package onto the grassy path. Gemini spoke, “Now c’mon. What’s really up with Sunnysville and all the people and stuff.” Justice paused. He tried to think of the best way to explain it all, but nothing came to mind that sounded acceptable. The musclebound man took a breath and braced himself for the anger Gemini would most likely react to. “Sunnysville...isn’t a real place. It exists in a...I guess you’d call a pocket dimension? And like I told you earlier and before we came here, none of the people here are real,” explained Justice. Gemini frowned, “I thought you were being a total edgelord. Like, because nobody got how you felt and stuff, that they didn’t seem like real people. Or they just seemed happy and well-adjusted all the time.” Justice shook his head, as Gemini’s mood rings transformed to purple. “Naw. They’re all just androids that Hephaestus made. But he did such a rush job making them, that they don’t have any social programming in them. They’re like NPCs. They only say one thing or only say or do something different if you say the right thing. If you don’t follow the script, they freak out. Let me show you,” he replied. Gemini inquired, “Wait, do you mean a guy named Hephaestus or the actual god of fire and blacksmith?” Justice ignored his friend and turned to face his next door neighbor. “Hey, Mr. Wilson,” he called. The moose replied, “Hello there, Justice.” “This is my best friend, Gemini.” pointed Justice. James Wilson immediately reacted like old lady Judy upon hearing Justice speak off-script. His eyes went wide and gazed through Justice. Justice knew the person was not real, but it still hurt the bodybuilder to see it happen. Justice felt the old guilt of hurting a Sunnysville resident when not playing the specific role. The moose spoke, “INPUT CANNOT BE DESIGNATED. DIRECTORY NOT FOUND.” Gemini’s mouth gaped open, as he saw the anthro moose reply. “...Holy shit,” he said. Justice nodded, “Yeah, and I think they only recognize me and my parents as people. I guess that shows how little time Hephaestus had when making all the townsfolk here.” “Oh, and about that other question you asked, it’s the actual god,” he replied. Gemini paused, “Oh.” Justice attempted to give eye contact with his Soulem friend. Filled with so much awkward feelings, it resulted in him staring at the grass. The musclebound bodybuilder clenched his hands, as he forced himself to continue talking. “Yeah...I’m...actually a demigod...or something close to that, I guess. I’m the child of Ares, Aphrodite, and Apollo, and they created me to be a superhero to represent them. And the reason why all three of them got together to make me was to increase my chances of survival, since supervillains are as powerful as them now,” he explained. Gemini spoke up, “That’s...pretty cool. So what does that have to do with you living in Sunnysville?” “A lot, from what my parents told me. It turns out that people who are born with more than one...divinity, I think you’d call it, are pretty powerful. But they have a tendency to become...psychotic and have a short life expectancy,” said Justice. Gemini noted, “And you have three…” “Yep. Three gods that gave me a sliver of their essence to give me life. I mean, I shouldn’t be alive right now. My parents guessed that one of the outcomes would be me literally exploding,” nodded Justice. He continued, “But since I didn’t, that just meant that I would probably go crazy and try killing everyone. So they put me in this pocket dimension and watched over me for over twenty years. The other shoe hasn’t dropped yet, but who knows. I somehow turned out right, and that’s why they let me out.” “Sooo…” hesitated Gemini. Justice interrupted, “What’s kept me stable? I think that it’s cause the essences I was given canceled each other to a weakened point that limited my powers. Kinda why Gilgamesh was stronger than me. But I like to think that it’s cause my parents loved me and tried their best to raise me right. There’s a lot of factors, but I just know that I’m unique and still alive.” “...Shit,” said Gemini. Justice sighed, “Yeah.” “Being here with only your family to actually socialize with and the rest of this world being fake, and you didn’t even know it...Must’ve really fucked you up,” commented Gemini. Justice looked up at the sky, “Especially with nothing ever changing, I guess it did. If it wasn’t for our friendship at stake to distract me, I’d probably be freaking out about your new body. I know I would’ve had a meltdown.” The bodybuilder slowly drew in a long breath; his pectorals lifting upwards. He then let out a quiet exhale, as he remembered something else. The musclebound slave mentioned, “Hm, ya know, I didn’t even know superheroes or magic existed. I just thought they were comic book stuff.” Gemini stared up at his friend with his mouth agape once again. The husky Soulem threw his hands up in intense bewilderment. “...Why?!” questioned Gemini, “It defeats the very purpose of making you into a superhero! Unless...they weren’t trying to inspire you to leave.” Justice shrugged, “Who knows. I’ve forgiven them for what they did to me. Don’t get me wrong, I really wanted to be angry and destroy everything here. But...They were just doing what they thought was right. They didn’t know any better. And I still love them. It might’ve been lonely here, but at least they were always with me. Plus...I’m also afraid I might never come back if I go off the deep end.” “And it makes no sense when I say this that...I hate this place, but I still love it here. It’s predictable here. Familiar. No fights. No stores suddenly closing. And nobody is changing. I can still remember some happy memories here, and all the good times I tried to create...I never realized how suffocating it is to live here,” he continued. Gemini inquired, “Well...did you ever come back here when the real world got too much to handle?” Justice thought back to all the times he laid in bed; staring at the silver key. How every time he passed his closet, the temptation of magically using it would eat at him. But every time it did, all he had to do was think back to his experiences in the real world. All the new friends he was able to make, and all the new things he was able to try. “This is actually the first time I’ve been back, since I came to the real world. It was always so tempting to come back here whenever I was upset at something. But deep down...I knew that if I ever came back here, I’d probably stay here for good. And if it wasn’t for you, Gem, I’d also stop being Justice,” replied the bodybuilder. Gemini cupped his chin, “...Yeah, I guess compared to how Marvelous Man is a blank book, you could be whatever you wanted.” “Pretty much. Anyway, let’s head inside. I’m kinda hoping my family have some leftover cookie cake slices in the fridge,” said Justice. Gemini sighed, “Okay.” Heading to the front door, the Soulem placed his hand on the knob. Gemini swung it open without hesitation, while the color of his mood rings changed to green. The husky Soulem immediately recoiled; clutching at his mouth and nose. “Oh my gosh! What the hell is that smell?!” he choked. As Justice began to lumber over to his friend, he was hit with a foul stench. It smelled like mold and rotting fruit. The musclebound bodybuilder staggered back from the vomit-inducing scent. He dared to peek at the entryway and spotted small objects covering most of the ground. Some of the objects were mashed into the ground, while others were still round. One thing Justice was certain was that they were all engulfed by fungus. He coughed, “I think those are Mr. Wilson’s muffins.” Gemini clamped his hand back onto the doorknob and pulled with abrupt force. The door slammed shut; closing off the waft of disgusting odor. “Why the fuck is your house hoarded up with his muffins?!” gasped the Soulem. Justice panted, “He...leaves them in my house...every Friday. But since…-” “Yeah, I get it. Nobody was around to eat them and they got this bad...Does this dimension exist out of time or something?” interrupted Gemini. With the nasty stench out of his lungs, Justice was able to stand up straight. He tried to remember what his family said to him about Sunnysville. The bodybuilder recalled, “I think so. My dad said this place is like a hyperbolic time chamber.” Gemini turned to the overly-muscular slave, as his mood rings became purple. “So, like, ‘a year in here is a day out there’ sort of thing?” he surmised. Justice shrugged, “I guess. That was the best answer they could give me.” “Wow...they really treated you like a tv dinner. Just stuck you in here and set it to nuke. Presto-chango, they now have their superhero ready to fit in with the modern times,” commented Gemini. The Soulem motioned his hands as if he were performing a magic trick. He fluttered his hands about to express a flashy explosion. The herculean slave giggled, “Yeah, I think that’s how it was when it started out. But I know that my mom for sure stopped thinking about that the moment I was born. Probably my dad too. I remembered that he told me that I was the most perfect baby he’s ever seen. Which is the biggest compliment, since he’s...hehe, a pretty big narcissist. And for Papa-” “I’m guessing that’s Ares?” said Gemini. Justice nodded, “Yeah. He kinda put me on a spartan regimen where I was constantly exercising every day and was taught about war tactics. But when he pushed me too hard and caused my knee to dislocate when I was nine...I think that was when he realized I was his kid and not a soldier. Since then, he’d spoil me and train me at my pace.” “But that’s when my dad, Apollo, had to become the strict parent. He’d try to teach me about discipline of the self when performing art or bodybuilding and tried to teach me values by putting me in the boy scouts.” he continued. The Soulem laughed, “Pfff, hah! Boyscouts?!...Actually that does make some sense about you. Such a damn gentleman all the time.” The musclebound bodybuilder smiled. It felt relieving to talk to someone about his life, and it was with someone he trusted. He did not expect Gemini to take everything so well, but it was nice to see his friend still accepted him. With such a secret no longer a burden, a calming euphoria washed over Justice. A thought crossed his mind that if he was trapped in Sunnysville with Gemini, he’d be alright with such a predicament. “It’s all I know,” shrugged Justice. Gemini looked up at his friend, while his mood ring color became sky blue. He smiled, “Welp, we can’t go in there. Anywhere else you want to show me?” “Hmmm...wanna go to the beach?” suggested Justice. Gemini nodded, “Sure, I’m game for that.” The hulking slave took lead; heading towards the beach with Gemini holding onto his anal leash. Justice thought it was nice to be the one who knew things instead of feeling like a cultural imbecile. “It’s too bad we couldn’t go inside, so I could show you my room. My walls are racked with bodybuilding trophies and all my martial art belts and stuff. Got some classic video games too,” he mused. Gemini teased, “I bet you had a race car bed too.” “I actually do. King-sized and with a waterbed mattress,” grinned Justice. Gemini remarked, “...That’s awesome.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The sky had started to take on an orange hue, as the sun began to set. Seagulls could be heard cawing; mixing with the sound of clear, blue waves crashing onto the sand. At this time, the fake people always playing on the beach were packing up to go. On the black boardwalk, a level above the sand, the two were leaving an ice cream cart with delights in their hands. Both of them carried a waffle ice cream cone with a large scoop of strawberry cheesecake flavor. As the best friend duos licked and bit into their treats, they settled onto the edge of the boardwalk. “Oh my gosh. This is so weird!” exclaimed Gemini, “Not the ice cream. It’s so fucking delicious. But even though this is my first ice cream, I get, like...a nostalgic feel from it. It’s both a new and reminiscent feeling I’m getting from eating this.” Justice watched his friend’s black tongue lap at the ice cream and its cheesecake chunk contents. He could not help but be confused at what he was seeing. “So I know this is going to be really obvious when I say this, since I ordered for you. But you can eat now?” he asked. The Soulem shrugged, “Yeah. I have an organic converter in me that burns food into energy. That way, it’s the first reserves I’ll use up, so I won’t have to plug in that often. Plus, it’s pretty therapeutic for Soulems. Helps us take part in the social interaction of human meal time, and it feels really nice to chew and taste.” “Oh...does that mean you poop now too?” said Justice. Gemini smiled, “Nnnnope! Unless, it’s a fetish thing, I don’t got that porthole installed. And cause I’m one-hundred percent top. But yeah, my organic converter creates no waste other than a vapor exhaust.” Justice flexed an eyebrow in confusion, while licking his ice cream. “Meaning?” he said. The bulky Soulem held up his white finger to signal his unavailability to give a verbal answer at that moment. Having finished all of the ice cream exposed above the cone, Gemini began to bite into the waffle cone. He rapidly bit into the cone and chewed his mouthful contents; finishing the sweet snack in seconds. After swallowing the last of it, Gemini paused. A second later, he emitted a loud belch. The Soulem smiled, while flexing his eyebrows several times. He held up his hand to display his face; signifying the answer to Justice’s question. The bodybuilder grinned, “Hehe, that’s cool.” “Not as cool as you,” replied Gemini. The Soulem’s eyes went wide and immediately looked away. His mood ring color had now flashed to pink, as Gemini stared intensely on the ocean in front of the two. He swallowed, “I just wanted to say...I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting like a sexual predator. And that I got angry at you. I get it now. The ignorance and stuff.” Gemini formed a fist with both hands and began to lightly pound them together. “And...I need to come clean about something else. My upgrade was supposed to be a surprise for you, because...I wanted to tell you something...That...you were what caused my awakening,” he admitted. Justice continued to bite into his ice cream at a slow pace. He could feel his heartbeat rise, but he did not want to confirm to himself what his trepidation was about. The Soulem continued, “And as you know, awakenings for a Soulem can happen from experiencing lust or love or other complex emotions. And after you were showing off your silver thong, I felt a thirst...B-basically, I was horny. But...later, after I realized what I went through...I still couldn’t get you out of my head.” “I felt this need to...be...with you. It wasn’t about sex anymore. For the first time, I actually felt lonely not living with you and having to go back to the D.A.B. to recharge and stuff. And I wanted to do more with you. To...hear you laugh. To see you smile. To hold you when you cry...To hold your hand and feel the very atoms and heartbeat of you...I realized that...that…” he hesitated. The husky Soulem stopped bouncing his fists together and gripped the edge of the pavement. Gemini slowly turned his face to Justice with the mood rings emitting a rose red color. A clear lubricant began to collect on the edges of the Soulem’s digital eyes. He confessed, “I love you.” Blood thumped in a deafening rhythm in Justice’s head. He could feel his manhood inflating and straining against the spandex that encased it. He felt happy...then scared...then something else. A spring of different emotions converging at once overwhelmed the bodybuilder’s psyche. Without realizing it, his body reacted to the sudden emotional stress. Justice scrambled to stand up; dropping the ice cream in the process. Taking a leap forward, he attempted to sprint as fast as his musclebound body could move. As he managed to take two steps forward, the Dragon Pearls™ magically bound to his pumped anus yanked on the ring attached to Gemini’s finger. The Soulem was immediately dragged across the ground. “OW. OW. OWWW!!!” cried Gemini. A second after being pulled onto the pavement, the silver ring came off of Gemini’s digit. The overly-muscular slave instantly froze in place; stuck in a running pose. The bulky Soulem pushed himself up and stomped towards the inanimate Justice. Gemini’s mood ring transformed to orange. He shouted, “Fatherf-BITCH, DID YOU JUST TRY TO BOLT ON ME?!” “I’m sorry,” whimpered Justice, “...I didn’t know what to do, and I just freaked out...it’s what I do when I’m really mad or stressed. If I was Marvelous Man, I could’ve handled it better...” Gemini exclaimed, “Maybe just say that you’re not into me?! I mean, it sure as shit would’ve hurt a lot less than being pulled across the pavement! Which, by the way, not cool, bro!” Justice remained silent, as the Soulem finally caught up to the musclebound slave seconds later. Gemini walked around Justice and stationed himself in front of the hulking bodybuilder. Justice could not look his friend in the eye and remained staring at his mammoth pecshelf. “...I couldn’t say that to you...because...that’s not how I feel. Being here with you...I felt...happy. I didn’t feel trapped. And you tried your best to understand me. It’s...one of the reasons I like about you...You’re an ass for being honest all the time, but you listen to me. You actually want to know me other than how much I can lift or if I’m a top. I feel like we have a lot of similarities, and it’s nice to know that I don’t feel like an outcast when I’m with you,” said Justice. Gemini huffed, “Thennn, why not just take it slow, and we, ya know, date.” The hulking bodybuilder wanted to immediately say yes. His voice began to rise in agreement, but the image of Gene Lightfoot instantly materialized in his mind. His heart felt torn. He wanted to be with Gemini, but he was giving his work partner a chance at love. The idea of keeping such a fact secret from the Soulem popped up. But doing such a thing would eat at Justice’s conscious for the rest of his life. “I would...but...I’m already dating Gene,” answered Justice. The Soulem frowned, “Wait...that illiterate bunny man? Fffff-of course you would. Who wouldn’t with all that erotic emotion he is literally emitting.” “Hey! Don’t say that about him! Of course he can read, and that’s not why I’m seeing him,” spat Justice. Gemini pointed at his head, “Uh, no he can’t. Those rabbit ears of his only translates oral language. Anything wrote down is chicken scratch to him. I should know, I was the one who was told to set the language on his electronic scroll to his native language. But surprise, surprise. A country that is closed off to outsiders, and its language that isn’t widespread, isn’t available on any digital format.” Justice thought back to all the times Gene did not or refused the opportunity to read. There was the time the bunny demigod did not use their personal scroll to review information sent by Fairuza. Then there was the first date the two had. The rabbit superhero looked perplexed by the English menu at the Toto’s restaurant and decided to order whatever Marvelous Man chose. At the art museum, Gene asked Marvelous Man to read the placards out loud...Even though it added up, Justice felt it was still not a nice thing for Gemini to say. The hulking bodybuilder looked at Gemini. Realizing his friend was a robot, Justice figured there should have been more than one way to fix the language issue with Gene’s digital scroll. “But…” said Justice, “Can’t you just modify-” “I’m not that kind of Soulem, dammit! I don’t have the mind of a computer programmer, and I can’t ‘ghost’ myself into the coding! Just-fuck. Getting off track. Just...why? Why are you into him if it’s supposedly not for sex?!” shouted Gemini. The overly-muscular slave thought back to the personal interactions with the bunny demigod. Gene was a super strong superhero that had an abundance of beautiful physical features. But the rabbit superhero never let his powers inflate his ego and approached everything with gentleness when it did not involve lewd practices. He always seemed calm and happy but never hid his sad and pained side whenever he interacted with Marvelous Man. The only times he was truly angry was upon witnessing any injustice. He was a model superhero in Justice’s eyes: flawed, empowered, and kind. Justice explained, “He’s...a nice guy. He cares about the people nobody wants to pay attention to. And he’s really strong too. But I also understand his pain. That he has to be here to find better things in life, but nothing ever feels like it can be a second home. He might seem shallow, cause he likes sex...a lot. But he’s much deeper than that. People don’t care to know more about him once they get what they want from him...which is banging him. We’re different in a lot of ways, but we’re able to share our frustrations together.” “I’m sorry, Gemini. I didn’t think of you in a romantic way until now, cause...I was just happy with the way things are. But…” he continued. Gemini proposed, “Then date both of us. I’m...I can do a polyamorous thing. I mean, you got a big enough bed to fit all of us and stuff.” It sounded like a perfect fantasy in Justice’s mind. His giant memory-foam mattress with all three laying naked on it. He’d be sandwiched in between his two lovers with Gene on his right and Gemini on his left and holding both their hands. The threesomes they would have would be legendary, and he would be able to share his love with both of them. But whenever he would give Gene attention, he would feel those mood rings burning into his back with a radioactive green. “It wouldn’t work out. I know you’d get jealous. Wouldn’t be right if I put you through that,” sighed Justice. He requested, “Just...just give me two weeks. By then, I’ll have it figured out.” Gemini paused. His eyes darted left and rights, as if he were mulling over what Justice had asked of him. “Did he even say he loved you? Or at least like you?” questioned the Soulem. The hulking bodybuilder thought back to all of his interactions with Gene Lightfoot. The only reason the bunny demigod went out on a date with Justice, was because Gene thought it would be fun. They shared tender moments together, and the Totochtin prince said he was on the same best friend level as Director Doug. And the kiss the two had...was it really only Justice that enjoyed it? He hesitated, “I mean...we ha-” “Answer the question, Justice. Yes or no?” interjected Gemini. Justice paused, “...no.” The Soulem huffed, as he turned around. Back facing Justice, Gemini crossed his arms. His body lightly swayed about for a few seconds before facing back to Justice. The Soulem’s face showed resignation, while throwing his arms up in an exaggerated fashion. “Fine. Whatever. Have your two weeks. But don’t expect me to be surprised, if I’m not as receptive to when you finally come around. I’m only agreeing to this, cause I love you,” he said. Justice dryly swallowed, “I’m sorry. I really am. This is the first time I’ve ever had to deal with this…with love and the complex stuff, I mean.” “Yeah, yeah. Join the club. Let’s just go now. I’ve learned your origin story, so let’s get out of this town simulator.” frowned Gemini. Justice’s eyes darted about, “Ummm, I’d like to, but I kinda need you to...ya know.” “Oh...right,” said Gemini. Walking around the petrified, musclebound slave, Gemini stopped behind Justice’s basketball-sized glutes. The bulky Soulem leaned down and reached underneath the perfectly round buttocks. He grabbed an orange sphere that was dangling outside of the bodybuilder’s donut-shaped hole and stood up. He commanded, “I wish...that you couldn’t remove a tattoo I put on you.” Justice looked over his shoulder. “Huh?” said Justice, “That’s a weird thing to-GYAH!!!” Next Chapter
  6. Muscle Worship Univeristy* is a place where students from around the world can further their academic goals in a setting where muscle growth and admiration are given free reign and encouraged by the faculty and programs to create the strongest, most muscular students possible. With so many hard, competitive, testosterone-fulled bodies in one place (both the professors and those they teach), there's bound to be some heated encounters. This is an idea I had the other day that I thought would be interesting to explore. Instead of a traditional written narrative or web comic, what if I made a storyline that incorporated a number of visual media to help explain the details and give this universe a sense of place? I can sort of write, sort of draw, and sort of morph, but I thought I could do a better job combining various skills into one setting to make for a more interesting reading experience. You could see internal memos sent to staff, student text messages, research reports, ads for events and gatherings, booklets outlining available courses etc. Where this project will go from here is something I'm not sure about. In a perfect world, there would be a whole wesbite dedicated to it, where you could click on different parts of the campus and see stories and videos (some indpendent from each other, others interwoven) from within those settings (dorm, classroom, locker room, football field, lab etc). However, the reality is I don't have the skills or talent to put something like that together, though I would be open to collaborating with others. Realistically, I'll just make posts in this thread for free (NOTE TO MODS: Please don't move as this is NOT an advertisement) to get feedback from all of you. If I feel there is enough interest, then MAYBE I'll start a Patreon for it, or I'll just keep posting in this thread. *I chose "worship" over "growth" because I thought it would more clearly tell others about the erotic nature of the material.
  7. The Olympia Bar

    Hey everyone. This is my first story for the site as I finally plucked up the courage to write it. I've had this idea for a while. I apologise that it takes a little bit to get into the good stuff but I like to at least have some kind of set up for characters and scenarios for anything I write. I have some ideas where I want the stories to go but I'm not certain, so any ideas for what you think would work, or any sex scenes you'd like to see happen just put in the comments and i'll happily oblige. Chapter 1 – The Test Batch Jack awoke as the sun shone through the gap in his curtains, creating a streak of sunlight on his bed and annoyingly, right on his eyes. He lifted himself out of his bed groggily, trudging over to his window to pull the curtains rather violently back together before flopping back down onto his mattress and wrapping himself in his warm, comfy duvet. “Jack!” he heard his brother, Steven yell “Jack get up! You’ve got school today haven’t you?” Jack mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, pulling the duvet over himself tighter. But when the alarm clock blared to life, he gave up his fight to catch a few more minutes of sleep, slapping the alarm clock to shut it up before standing up and stretching properly. He walked onto the landing and bumped into Steven, who stumbled backwards startled. “Oops, sorry bud,” he smiled pleasantly “I was just coming to make sure you were awake.” Jack looked at his brother, stood shirtless in just his pyjama bottoms. Why did he have to have a hot stud brother? Steven and Jack were practically opposites and had little in common so it was always a wonder how they got on so well. Steven was 21, 6’2”, sporty, active and a gym rat, complete with a ripped body and admittedly gorgeous toned muscles to compliment his sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked like a model, to be frank. Jack on the other hand was 18, 5’7”, nerdy and slim, played video games, watched anime and sung. A lot. In fact he studied musical theatre in college. Far from the sporting icon that his brother had been as college, Jack was an average theatre geek. Granted he luckily had his brother’s deep blue eyes which they’d both inherited from their mum, but had his dad’s brown hair, which he kept medium length and messy, the typical ‘twink’ hairstyle. And yes, he was gay. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just jumping in the shower so if you need the toilet, I’d go now,” Jack responded to Steven. “No bother, just be quick. Mum said I have to drive you to college today and I don’t want to miss my Monday workout.” “Ok, I’ll be quick,” Jack sighed before walking into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door before he stripped off his boxers and sleeping t-shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, sighed and proceeded to step into the shower. He wasn’t unattractive per se. Some people would like him being the twink he was, but it wasn’t what he wanted to be. He wanted more than just average. His mental health wasn’t exactly helping either. Having being diagnosed with anxiety and depression, Jack didn’t look upon himself too highly. Just as he thought this he came to soaping up and lathering his junk, which in all honestly was rather beyond average. At 9 inches hard, Jack would go so far to say that he had the biggest dick in his year, at least as far as he knew. It was one of the only things he assumed he’d inherited from his Dad and he wasn’t complaining. After he finished playing with himself a little, he washed and conditioned his hair, taking care to really rub the product into his scalp. Finally he rinsed off and stepped out, towelling himself down the dry. “Hurry up Jack!” Steven shouted, much to the irritation of Jack. Choosing to ignore his brother, Jack went to his room to dry his hair and get dressed at a leisurely pace, just to annoy Steven. Finally, he knocked back his anti-depressant pill with some water before he headed downstairs. Lunchtime at college. After three boringly long lessons (mathematics and Computing respectively), Jack was looking forward to his theatre lesson after dinner, however dreading the gym lesson he had afterwards. “Hey, Jack,” the athletic looking boy next to him spoke “are you ok? You look a bit lost in thought.” “Oh, I’m fine,” he replied, still not looking at his friend as he spoke “just not looking forward to gym later. “How come?” the boy asked inquisitively. “I just don’t enjoy it,” Jack sighed “I’m no good at it, and I’m stuck in a class with you and all the other jocks and athletes, just because my brother was THE star athlete a few years ago. I get too nervous and terrified to do anything.” “You need to control that anxiety mate,” he advised “besides I’m always there to help. Just partner up with me like you always do.” “Thanks Caleb,” Jack smiled reluctantly. Jack knew he was only as close with Caleb as he was, was because their brothers were best friends. If that were not the case, Jack doubted he’d have given Caleb the time of day. He’d had too many bad experiences with athletes. “Hey, you say you struggle with gym and you tire out too easily, try this!” Caleb suggested, offering Jack what appeared to be an energy bar, still wrapped and untouched. “Huh? What is this? Why are you giving it to me?” “It’s a new energy bar. Olympia they call it. It’s a new product that my dad bought a trial box of for us to have during workouts, but they contain nuts which I’m allergic to.” “Erm, ok. I guess it can’t harm me.” Jack accepted the gift with a smile. He looked Caleb up and down discreetly. He never could quite understand what Caleb liked about him, but he wasn’t complaining. He was a great best friend regardless, and it wasn’t bad that he was easy on the eye too. Bordering on twinky and athletic, Caleb wasn’t that buff but very well-toned, which complimented his modern quiff styled black hard and green eyes perfectly. He was often the subject of Jack’s late night masturbation sessions, along with Mr Malone his theatre professor. “Jack? Jack!” Caleb shouted, clicking his fingers in front of Jack’s face and drawing far too much attention to the pair of them for Jack’s liking “you zoned out again bud. What’s wrong with you today?” “I’m fine,” Jack responded “seriously. I should probably head down to the theatre though so I’ll see you in gym!” And with that, Jack up and left the cafeteria. “C’mon Jack! I know you can hit that note!” Mr Malone said, clearly disappointed but trying to be encouraging. “You seem so lost in thought today, what’s wrong?” “Trust me sir, you’re not the only person to have said that to me today,” Jack chuckled lightly, jumping down off of the stage. “Can I have a word with you?” his professor asked kindly, picking up what looked like one of the same energy bars that Caleb had given him earlier. “Sure sir,” Jack smiled. “Everybody, please work on the factory scene, I’ll just be a few minutes,” Mr Malone told the rest of the class before he walked Jack outside of the door. “You know you can talk to me if something’s troubling you Jack. If there is then please do, I can’t have you being distracted. You’re playing one of our lead roles, and if you can’t hit the notes I’m going to have to re-cast Marius.” “I know sir, I’m sorry. I’m just going through a lot,” Jack said calmly, looking at his teacher in the eyes. He didn’t want to say exactly what it was, but he hoped that the tone in his voice and look in his eye got his point across just as well. Mr Malone breathed lightly, letting silence fall over the pair before he unwrapped his Olympia Bar and took a bite. “Oh damn…” he moaned as he chewed “that’s tasty!” “Where did you get that?” “Oh it’s a new product! I ordered a trial box as I get too tired at this place. I’m here ridiculous hours during the weekdays, and I’m marking all weekend so I need all the energy I can get!” “Oh, it’s just Caleb gave me one just like it earlier, I’d never heard of it until then.” Finally Gym class had arrived, and Jack was halfway through this week’s set workout routine, the coach barking orders at individual students and typically barking insults at Jack for being so ‘pathetic’ and ‘unworthy of sharing his brother’s name,” which of course did wonders to his self-confidence. “God…this is…nngh…heavy!” Jack grunted, sweat coating his brow and forehead as he struggled to complete 10 reps on the bench press with a disappointingly ‘light-weight’ in comparison to the weights some of the other students were lifting. "Oh hey guys, look at the wimp trying to be like us!" a rather large, intimidating boy sneered teasingly, flexing his impressive teen muscles to show off. “Leave him alone Damien!" Caleb snapped "oh c’mon, you’ve got this Jack,” Caleb encouraged him while he spotted his friend, worried he was going to have to grab the bar just to save Jack from dropping it and choking himself. “Urgh…no I haven’t!” Jack exhaled as he put the bar back on the rack in defeat, huffing as he stood up to head to his locker. “Where are you going?” Caleb called after him, concerned. “There’s no point in me being here,” he yelled back, fighting back tears. Jack sat underneath his locker on one of the uncomfortable benches and held his head in his hands. He was knackered, drenched in sweat and none the fitter for it, broken if anything. Fed up, Jack took the Olympia Bar Caleb had given him earlier for an energy boost so he could make the walk home without feeling like he’d collapse at any moment. “Hey,” Caleb spoke softly as he walked into the room, Jack halfway through eating the bar “it’s ok. So you’re not a gym rat, but you’re great in the theatre! You know you are.” “I don’t know,” Jack replied after a moment’s silence, swallowing the last of the bar before he dabbed his brow with a towel, picked up his bag and headed for the door to walk home. Jack collapsed onto his bed, a welcome feeling after the stressful and strenuous say he’d had. To top the day off, he was feeling a little funny in his stomach too. Just what he needed, an illness. Granted it was probably just his anxiety playing up again, he often suffered stomach pains in times of constant worry. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Steven opened Jack’s door slowly, popping his head into the room almost comically as he checked on his younger brother. “Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” he asked comfortingly, walking towards Jack’s bed and taking a seat next to him. “I…” jack tried to say through sniffles and tears “I’m a failure.” “No you’re not,” Steven patted his shoulder in a loving way only a brother can “you’re just having a bad day. You’re going through a lot, but we’re all here for you. Have you taken your tablet today?” “Yeah, I have.” “Oh, ok. I have no idea how to help make you better then,” Steven answered honestly “but I’m here if you need me.” “Thank you,” Jack muttered quietly before he felt a deep burning spreading throughout his body. “What the?!...” He jumped out of bed as a sudden burst of energy shot through him and he keeled over, his stomach searing in pain. The energy he felt turned into something stronger…power almost. Then the impossible happened. Jack felt his body growing. His pecs popped out and pressed against his shirt as his arms swelled in size, biceps balling and growing into large lumps of solid muscle, striations cutting through to define the bicep and tricep. His back burst out and tore the back of his shirt due to his pecs already bulging, the increased mass making the shirt ride up to show his stomach which had become a rock solid, cut six-pack in moments. His legs flexed and grew, his skinny jeans standing no chance of surviving the sudden increase in size. With legs cut like diamonds and strong to match, all that remained was his already large crotch. Jack groaned in pleasure as the feeling entered his cock, which was already rock hard, and lengthening slowly. Balls swelling to the size of snooker balls and dropping even lower, cum swirling and pumping inside them, an excess amount ready to launch from Jack’s growing dick, now at least a foot long and as thick as his wrist, veins bulging and pumping blood into the engorged member. Suddenly, as the growth ended, Jack roared out as he came, shooting an enormous load all across the bed and his own brother. As Jack came down the intense feelings he’d just experienced, Steven looked on in shock, after wiping his brother’s cum off of his face. “What the…what just happened?! Jack are you ok?” “Oh…fuck Steven. Better than ever!” Jack growled lustfully, stroking his new abs with one hand and the other arm flexing to show off his engorged biceps. “Jack, you just turned into an amateur bodybuilder, right in front of me. And you’re hung like a horse. And you just exploded your load all over me. What the fuck?! How did this happen?!” Steven shouted, taking off his cum-drenched shirt to reveal his own ripped torso. “I…I don’t know! But I don’t care, I’m bigger than you!” “I know! But how?!” “As I said Steven, I don’t know and I don’t care. Fuck I’m horny…” Jack grabbed his still rock hard 12 inch cock, jerking slowly before looking at his brother. “Care to help?” “What the fuck?! NO!” Steven snapped before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Shrugging as if nothing had happened, Jack slumped onto his bed which creaked at his new weight. Cock in hand, he slowly jerked his newly grown python as he searched up some hot bodybuilder gay porn, moaning as he watched two big muscle studs kissing passionately as one pounded the other’s hole. However his porn was interrupted when he received a phone call. Checking the caller ID, Jack was surprised to see that it was Mr Malone. “Sir? What’s wrong?” Jack asked “it’s 8pm why are you calling me at this time?” “Jack, did you eat the Olympia Bar Caleb gave you?” Mr Malone’s raspy, panting voice responded over the phone. “Erm yes why…” suddenly it clicked in Jack’s mind. “Sir, have you by any chance experienced some kind of…erm… changes?” “Yes, and from you asking that question I assume you have too,” his professor explained, his voice obviously slightly deeper than it had been before. “Can you come to my place?” “I guess, I’ll head out now!” Jack was barely fitting in the clothes he’d put on. He’d sighed when he realised he was going to have to buy basically an entirely new wardrobe, but it was a small negative to a huge positive, and he meant huge. As he approached Mr Malone’s place he could hear the grunts and groans already, and what sounded like tearing clothing. His cock instantly rock hard, he ran up his professor’s driveway and knocked on the door, impatient to see what his professor looked like now. “It’s open!” a surprisingly deep voice growled. Jack stepped inside and looked into the living room only to nearly cum there and then. Mr Malone was still growing, nearly 7 feet tall where he’d been 5’11” before, and was a wall of bulging muscle and veins. Brick like abs and enormous pecs visible as he reared back and flexed, shredding his shirt completely, jeans and underwear tearing too as a monstrous 19 inch cock flopped out and sprung up past his abs. “Fuck sir…” Jack stated, eyes glazed over with lust as his arousal took over. Before he had a chance to do anything, Mr Malone picked him up by his neck in one, ridiculously strong arm and slammed him into the wall. “Thank god you’re here Jack,” Mr Malone grinned before planting his lips on Jack’s a deep, passionate, manly kiss as his 19 inch monster and Jack’s huge 12 incher grinded against each other. “We’re going to have a wild night,” his professor promised as he broke the kiss, rubbing his leaking cock head all over Jack’s ripped torso before dropping him onto the floor. “Go upstairs…” ___________________________________________________________________________________ Well i hope you liked it guys. Feel free to leave comments, feedback and suggestions on what you'd like to see in future chapters, and i can't wait to continue this story. Thanks for reading studs.
  8. A Few Minor Adjustments

    Hello. My name is Ryan and I am a geek. Honestly, I've tried to make myself look cooler with pierced ears, tattoos, and bling, but I'm afraid all of that only emphasizes how desperately I'm trying not to look like the short, skinny white boy I am. In high school, I did have a few girls who liked me and told me I was cute, but it's not like they were ever gonna date me. No, they wanted to date the jocks, then call me on the phone afterwards and dish, weeping about what a jerk the jock had been. To them, I was the "gay best friend" that every romantic comedy and sitcom told them they needed as an accessory. Never mind that I wasn't actually gay. I suppose I couldn't blame them for making the assumption. It's not like I was doing anything that would prove them wrong. Like, say, having sex with a girl. I'm only five-seven and I've always had, like, zero muscle-mass. My folks knew how much it bugged me to be so puny, so Dad bought me a set of weights, but sweating and straining just to curl a fifteen-pound dumbbell was not my idea of a fun time. Besides, all that exertion never seemed to add an ounce to my lanky-ass body. The weights sat in a corner of my bedroom, growing cobwebbier by the day. I started college with the naive hope that it would be a less superficial environment than goddamn high school and people would put more value on intelligence than appearance. As my parents were wishing me goodbye, Mom couldn't stop crying and calling me "my baby", right there in my dorm room, right in front of my dick of a roommate, who was barely stifling his laughter. I just knew he would be mocking me and calling me "Baby" from then on. Fortunately, Dad didn't cause that kind of embarrassing scene, but he did slip me a parting gift as we walked back to the car. It was a new digital camera that they were working on at the tech company where he works. "It's a prototype, kid, so be extremely careful with it. Don't leave it lying around and, for god's sake, don't let anybody else use it." I assured him I wouldn't, and he smiled back, "I know you won't, son. Hey, snap a selfie once in a while and send it to me, so your sad old parents can see how you're adjusting to your new life." I got a lump in the pit of my gut. I thought I would be happy to finally be off on my own, but I think it was just as hard for me to watch my folks drive away as it was for them to leave me behind. Dad rolled down the window as he drove past and said, seemingly as an afterthought, "There's some pretty sweet software on that camera. You should fiddle around with it." Then he winked. My dad was a brilliant scientist, but he could be kind of a doofus. (Like father, like son, right?) I had never seen him fuckin' wink in my life. Glad my roommate wasn't around to see that. As the car disappeared in the distance, I heard my roommate yelling at me. "Hey, Baby, we're gonna go eat at the commons. You wanna come with us, Baby?" I looked over and saw him give me an exaggerated wink. He was surrounded by a group of similar bros, all testosterone and stupidity in their muscle shirts and backwards baseball caps. The other dudes followed my roommate's lead, cracking up and calling me "Baby" without even knowing why. What a barrel full of douchebags. I already hated college. The actual school part was fine, but all the social skills I never learned in high school might have come in handy here. By the first Saturday night, while everyone else in the dorm was out getting shit-faced, laid or both, I was sitting in my room, alone and depressed. On my desk, I noticed the camera Dad had given me and decided I ought to let the 'rents see how their son was coping...or wasn't. I stood in front of the mirror in my small-size t-shirt and my skinny jeans and attempted to smile, but a smile would have been false advertising. Better to show how I was actually feeling. With a frown on my lips and sadness in my eyes, I snapped the shutter and the photo filled the digital screen on the back of the camera. Christ, I looked about twelve. No wonder I didn't fit in here. I touched the screen with my thumb, intending to delete this grim photo, when a menu of options popped onto the screen. Great, just what I needed, fuckin' Instagram. The only thing that could make me look more pathetic would be looking pathetic in sepia tones. But I noticed that the options extended beyond the usual filters, color, brightness, contrast and cropping. Like, for interest, "BACKGROUND". I could edit the background? When I clicked on that, a circle popped up onscreen with the word "DORM" at the top. Damn, photo recognition software is getting advanced if it can tell just from the picture that I'm in a dorm. I figured it must use GPS or something to figure that out. I grazed my thumb over the circle and, like the click-wheel on my dad's ancient iPod, it allowed me to cycle through other options. The first one I stopped on was "CHURCH". Amazingly, the software immediately replaced the postered walls behind me in the photo with a massive stained-glass window. I had never seen any design software that could so swiftly and seamlessly alter an element of a photo like that. It would have taken me ten minutes of clipping and erasing in Photoshop to accomplish what the camera had done in an instant. As I scrolled through other options, there was my sorry ass standing in a restaurant, on a beach, on a boat, in front of the Eiffel Tower. When I landed on "LOCKER ROOM" -- just a blue-green wall and some kind of door -- I must have accidentally clicked the "ACCEPT" button in the middle of the circle, because an hourglass appeared and animated sand fell through it as the background rendered in high resolution. From out of nowhere, I started to feel very claustrophobic. The air around me seemed to be thickening, like an invisible layer of warm Jell-O wrapping itself around my body. I couldn't move as this sensation enveloped me. And then, BOOM, it was over. It felt like I had passed through a gooey membrane and come out clean on the other side. I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, happy to still be alive. A voice echoed from above me, "You okay, little dude?" I looked up and discovered I was no longer in my dorm room but in a locker room. I was sprawled on the hard tile floor, and a massively pumped weightlifter was looming over me. "I didn't even see you come in," he said, extending a hand, which I gratefully accepted. He practically dislocated my arm as he yanked me to my feet. I thanked him and he patted me on the back with his beefy palm, knocking the wind out of me again. As he walked out, I could hear the heavy clanging of weights in the next room. I stared in the mirror and saw the same old me with a new background. The turquoise walls perfectly matched the photo. I looked back at the camera, still clutched in my palm, and wondered what other astonishing alterations it could make. "CLOTHING" was the next option. The first click-wheel offered general categories ("SHIRT", "PANTS", etc.), which opened into sub-categories once you clicked them. When I chose "SHIRT", the display correctly identified that I was wearing a "T-SHIRT" in the photo. I then scrolled through the menu as my purple tee morphed onscreen into everything from an "ANGORA SWEATER" to a "ZEBRA-SKIN VEST". On the more revealing selections, the camera accurately recreated parts of my body, like my bony shoulders and my sunken chest, which you couldn't even see in the original photo. This whole experience was simultaneously creeping me out and making me hard. When I selected "TANK TOP", it allowed me to choose from a huge array of colors, patterns, and logos. A Gold's Gym shirt seemed the most incongruous on my weakling's body, so I went the ironic route and hit "ACCEPT". I braced myself for the Jell-O feeling again, but it didn't strangulate my whole body this time, just my torso. My chest and arms felt shrink-wrapped as my purple shirt shifted through the color spectrum through blue and green before stopping at yellow, and the arm and neck holes grew wider and wider until an authentic Gold's Gym tank was draped limply over my gaunt frame. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I searched frantically for what other unexpected gifts might be waiting inside the camera. "BODY TYPE" seemed too good to be true. As before, the dial had automatically set the baseline to correspond to my current state: in this case, "ECTOMORPH". One click to the left landed me on "ENDOMORPH" and I watched on the screen as my body ballooned to a level of obesity that looked comically implausible and dangerous for my health. I spun the dial in the other direction, which showed how I would look as a "MESOMORPH". I'll be honest, I nearly came in my pants when I saw my head on the body of a well-built jock, with solid pecs that seemed ready to burst the straps of my tank top and bulging shoulders and biceps that looked ready to burst through my skin. I could have happily chosen "ACCEPT" immediately, but was curious what other options were available. "BEAST" amped the muscle enlargement further to that of a competition weightlifter, while "BEHEMOTH" pushed the limits of plausibility past the biggest steroid abuser alive into the realm of comic-book superheroes. I knew I would be more than satisfied as a simple toned mesomorph, but I bumped myself just slightly into don't-fuckin'-fuck-with-me "BEAST" mode. My thumb pressed "ACCEPT" and I waited for the constricting feeling again, but this change went the opposite direction, as if my body was exploding from the inside. The cells under my skin were churning, multiplying, creating lumps of muscle on my weak arms and narrow chest, veins surging and surfacing with each heartbeat, inflating me into a slab of prime beef. My bones were aching, stretching, thickening, turning my fragile limbs into sturdy weapons. By the time the evolution stopped, I was closing in on six feet and over two hundred pounds. Adding some final touches, I swapped out my ripped Levi's for shiny workout pants and chose a simple baseball cap from the "HEADWEAR" menu. I couldn't resist turning it backwards. Since I already looked like such a bro now, I might as well commit all the fuckin' way. When in Bro-land, do as the Bro-men do. Satisfied with my makeover, I hit "SAVE" and slid the camera into the pocket of my shorts. I stepped out of the locker room and discovered I was in the weight facility used by the college's varsity athletes. I couldn't imagine a more alien environment, but as I checked my reflection against the other jocks around me, I now fit in perfectly. I walked straight toward the free weights to see just how much this body could do. I grabbed two sixty-pound dumbbells off the rack, lifting them as if they were nothing. The massive guy who had found me on the locker-room floor walked over to give me friendly tips on my form, giving no indication that he recognized me as the "little dude" from our earlier meeting. I wondered how long he had worked to become so ripped. I bet it was longer than the ten minutes it had taken me. I couldn't believe how cool it felt to be accepted by my fellow lifters, guys who would have looked at me with pity an hour ago. They didn't seem to get my geeky jokes, but I found that was easily fixed. I just opened up the camera, selected "IQ" and slid the dial down about twenty points. I immediately felt a whole lot more relaxed and shit. I figure when exam time comes, I'll just take another selfie and boost the old IQ back up again. Sure hope I remember to do that. I also couldn't stop staring at the other guys' rock-solid arms and wide backs and firm asses. I hoped no one noticed that I was getting a major chubby that was tenting my workout pants. I clicked open the camera to see what options it offered for "ORIENTATION" and discovered that the dial had already set itself to indicate that I was "BISEXUAL". Well, shit. Maybe those chicks back in high school were half-right after all. I'm always the last to know anything. Returning to my dorm room, I stripped off my shirt and admired my bitchin' new body in the mirror, exploring the crevices of my six pack with my fingertips. I was sure of at least one thing: my lame-ass roomie wouldn't be calling me "Baby" any more. Not unless he wanted to get his ass kicked. Or unless I wanted him to suck my dick. I decided to text the photo to Dad, who would undoubtedly be curious to see what his gizmo had accomplished. I messaged him: "Played around with the camera tonight. Thought you'd be impressed with how quickly I've adjusted. I think you're gonna sell a lot of these cameras. Thanx, Dad!!!" I followed up with an afterthought: "Please send money for new clothes. xo" After I texted my dad the photo showing how much his camera had changed me, I zonked out pretty fast. Growing six inches and eighty pounds in one night will do that to a guy. Not sure whether it was the sound or the smell of the fart that woke me up, but the combination of the two was lethal. I rubbed my eyes and held my breath as I heard the low chuckling of my dumbshit roommate Cole. The fucker was plastered, and his idea of subtle humor was to wake up his roommate at 3am and fart in his face. "Hey, baby, can I borrow a diaper from you?", he said in a demented whisper, hardly able to contain his laughter. Even his dimwit buddies hanging in the doorway were telling him he was being immature and should leave me alone. I just reached up and gripped his wrist, then twisted his arm around his back, amazed by my strength. He sure wasn't expecting that from his wimpy roommate. "Ow, ow ow!," he yelped. He whispered to his pals by the door, "Fuck, I'm in the wrong room!" His loyal friends freaked out and ran away. "No, you're in the right place," I whispered. "You just fucked with the wrong guy." I climbed out of bed while maintaining hold of his arm. I flipped on the light over my bed and could see clearly on his face just how much pain he was in, so I let go. His arm fell slack at his side. He rubbed his shoulder and turned around. I got a real kick out of watching his eyes as they caught their first glimpse of my broad chest and my giant arms, then moved up and up until he saw me grinning down at him. I now had a good couple inches on him and, except for the part covered by my exercise pants, all of my new muscle was on prominent display. He stared stupefied at my face, which basically hadn't changed but looked a shitload more bad-ass on this body. If he hadn't been so drunk, his brain probably would have exploded at seeing the stud his "baby" roommate had become. Instead, he was just really, really confused. He poked his index finger into my firm pecs, like he was trying to make sure they were real. "Didn't you used to be a little pussy?", he asked. "Yeah, but the campus food plan is awesome. Lotsa protein," I said, continuing to mess with him. "This is only after one week. By next week, I won't fit through the door." Cole stood dazed in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over like he had passed out standing up. Just like he had been doing to me, I touched his chest with a finger. He toppled right over and was snoring on the floor within a minute. I couldn't leave the idiot just lying there, so I lifted him up and carried him to his bed. He felt surprisingly light in my bulging arms. I scooted a trash can next to his bed, just in case he needed to hurl during the night. On my way back to bed, I noticed I had gotten some texts while I was asleep. Dad had written back after seeing the photo of my new body: "WHOA, buddy. I guess the camera DID work. You might want to scale it back and take things more gradually. Massive changes like that can be hard to adjust to." That was followed by: "Oh, and you won't need to buy new clothes. Just use the camera to adjust your old ones into whatever you like. Have fun, son, but don't go overboard. Call me if you need advice." Despite what Dad thought, I felt like I was handling the changes pretty well, especially since he gave me the thing with no instructions. He always liked to do that, bring home some project from work and ask his geeky little kid if he could figure out what it did. It was a fun father-son bonding type of thing. I'm pretty slick with computers and shit, so it was never much of a challenge, but he'd never given me anything nearly as amazing as this before. I carried the camera back to bed and stared at the picture of the new me. I didn't even realize at first that I was stroking my cock, queering off to my own picture. When I looked at my dick, it seemed really small in the grip of my new sinewy hand. Seemed like I ought to be able to do something to change that. I aimed the lens at my semi-hard cock and focused. I'd never taken a dick pic in my life. No one ever wanted to see my dick in the flesh, so who would want a picture of it? I clicked and the rear screen displayed my little friend. I brought up the menu and had to scroll pretty deep through the options before I reached the controls for "GENITALS". The options were "MALE", "FEMALE", "BOTH", "NEITHER" and "NON-HUMAN". Guess those scientists at Dad's company didn't want to leave out any potential customers. I stuck with "MALE" and discovered the options for "LENGTH - SOFT" and "LENGTH - HARD". I only bumped up the soft length a little, figuring I didn't want fitting my dick into a pair of underwear to become more of a challenge than solving a Rubik's Cube. I can solve a Rubik's Cube in under a minute, by the way. Not bragging, just the truth -- although these big new hands and this lowered intelligence might slow down my speed a little. Then again, considering how long I was making my "LENGTH - HARD", I didn't figure I'd be having too many more Saturday nights sitting alone with nothing to do but fondle my Rubik's Cube. I clicked "ACCEPT", then "SAVE", and flipped off the light. I was amazed how far my hand had to travel up and down the shaft of my cock as it grew to its new full length, and my fingertips didn't even meet my thumb on the other side when I gripped the fucker. Once I finally fired, I coated my chest and abs with more cum than I thought I had in me. Guess everything about me was bigger now. * * * In the morning, I woke up full of energy for the first time in my goddamn life. I actually felt like going for a run. On purpose. Not even because it would be good for my body, because obviously I could adjust this body however I wanted without a lick of exercise. No, I just wanted to go for a run because I thought it would be fun. I pulled on my clothes from the night before, then snapped a selfie in the full length mirror on the back of our door. I musta spent half an hour going through the menus to decide what shirt and shorts and sneakers I wanted the camera to give me. I knew I could get sucked into a video game so deep that ten hours would pass and I wouldn't even get up to take a leak, but I never thought I could be just as addicted to picking out clothes. Once I chose a white tank top and some red running shorts that looked snug around my package, I checked myself out in the mirror and decided I would look even hotter with curly blond hair. So there went another ten minutes, as I figured out the exact shade and length I wanted. I settled on a nice rich honey color and adjusted my cap so it would fit (backwards, naturally) over my new halo of curls. I looked righteous. I clicked "SAVE" and the changes were locked in. Cole snorted loudly, still lying on top of his rumpled bedspread, tongue hanging flaccid from his mouth and basically looking like shit. One hand was lazily scratching his belly underneath his beer-stained sleeveless tee and the other was stuffed down his cargo shorts. A naughty thought passed through my head. I snapped a quick photo of him, then tucked the camera in a pocket of my shorts and headed out for a nice long run. The campus was beautiful that morning, with just a taste of fall chill sneaking into the morning sunshine. I'd never noticed how many people exercised in the morning, maybe because I was usually still in bed at this time. When I looked down, my arms and legs were swinging so fast and powerfully that my shadow was basically just a dark smudge speeding across the sidewalk. As my big feet pounded the pavement in my new Air Jordans, I smiled at all the chicks and guys who were running or walking or riding bikes or doing yoga, and nearly everybody smiled back. And why wouldn't they? They weren't looking at geeky Ryan Bradford any more, with his pencil-thin arms and legs. They were checking out Ryan Bradford, campus stud, whose muscles barely fit in normal clothing. I didn't even feel like the same person any more. A dude like me oughta have a nickname. What would my drinking buddies call me, if I had drinking buddies? Or any buddies? How about Ry? "Hey, I'm Ry," I muttered to myself as I ran. I liked the sound of it. "Yo, this is Ry." I chuckled my deep new chuckle. It was a thrill to see how many girls were staring at me, but the looks I was getting from guys were kinda freaking me out. Before last night, I found it hard to believe that any girl would be charitable enough to go to bed with me, but I never even considered that a guy might want to do it. I just wrote off all my fantasies about big hunky jocks as envy, not lust. Now, I felt like I could walk into any room on campus and seduce anyone in it. Male, female, both, neither or non-human. (Just kidding about the non-human thing. Gross.) By the time I reached the lakeside pier, I must have run ten miles but I still wasn't breathing hard. My shirt was soaked with sweat, so I pulled it off, the sunlight glistening on my wet torso. I stretched out my legs on a bench. They seemed to go on forever, like they were longer than my whole body used to be. The lake and the trees looked so scenic, I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. I checked the editing options, but wasn't given anything unusual. Guess Dad's company hadn't figured out how to make the camera turn a sunrise into a sunset, or a tree into a polar bear. Yet. I deleted the scenic photo, and the last photo I had taken showed up onscreen: Cole, sprawled in bed. I amused myself thinking about what modifications I would make to the jerk if I could. What was I thinking "if"? I could! Too bad the options wouldn't let me change him from a prick into a decent guy. I could turn him into a GQ model and he'd still think it was hilarious to fart in my face. Then again, if I changed his body enough, maybe it'd change his behavior too. I was definitely acting differently as Ry than I had as Ryan. Maybe Cole could stand to be a little less like Ry and a little more like Ryan. I brought up the "BODY TYPE" menu, where Cole was a obviously categorized as a "MESOMORPH". I nudged the wheel toward "ECTOMORPH" and watched his muscles wither away until he was practically skeletal, even worse than I had been. Not sure even Cole deserved that big a punishment. I slid the wheel back toward "MESOMORPH" and got so aroused as his muscles grew back that my boner started to strain my shorts. My finger wavered on the dial until I hit a sweet spot where he was just muscly enough to turn me on but still puny enough to have an inferiority complex. His clothes now looked baggy on him, and he looked a couple inches shorter. I clicked "ACCEPT" and chuckled, wondering what must be going through Cole's mind at that moment as the changes took place. "What's so funny?" It was a chick's voice. I looked around and saw a girl on the bench across the pier, looking right at me. She was just the kind of girl who always wanted to be my friend in high school. They weren't total space cadets, because they appreciated my less obvious qualities enough to hang out with me, but they were definitely more interested in the football team than the chess club. This one had her red hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore glasses that screamed "I listen to NPR", but her legs were tanned and toned enough that you knew she hadn't spent the entire summer in her attic writing poetry. She was trying not to look like it, but I could tell she was scoping me out. "Oh, just a picture of my roommate," I said, still surprised every time I heard my new voice. I knew I had knocked down my IQ last night, but I sounded dumber than I felt. "Dumbass passed out drunk last night, so I..." I realized I shouldn't explain any more. "Just did something funny to him is all." "Ah," she said, smiling mildly and going back to her reading, not interested in hearing some sophomoric "dude" story. I hated that I was still so terrible at conversation, no matter how I looked. I noticed that she was reading a book I had also read over the summer. I could've struck up a conversation about that, but I suddenly realized I couldn't remember what the book was about any more. I didn't want to look too vain in front of her, so I decided to wait until I got back to my room to take another selfie and bump my IQ back up. I stood up slowly, making sure the chick could get a real eyeful of my body as I stretched. I had no idea if I was stretching right, and based on the way she was smirking, I probably wasn't. I walked over and extended my sweaty hand. "Name's Ry. Hope to see you around." She declined the handshake, smiled back mildly and said, "Kay," which I assumed was her name but could've been her just saying "'kay" to get rid of me. Still, I'd made first contact. I jogged back to the dorm, feeling even more energized than before. I felt incredibly horned up from changing Cole's picture and talking to Kay and just the general friction of my shorts against my hard-on. I was ready to take a good long shower and a have a good long wank session when I got back, but when I got to the room, Cole was curled up in his bed, looking ready to shit his pants. His thin but still muscly arms were wrapped around his thin but still muscly legs, and his face had gotten skinnier too. He looked more like a sophomore in high school than a sophomore in college. With a shaky voice that sounded like it had barely escaped puberty, he said, "I think I caught the same thing that you did, only backwards. Look how little I am!" I played dumb, even dumber than I was feeling. "Holy shit!" I sat down on the bed beside him and furrowed my brow. "I wonder what's causing this." "I never heard of nothing like this. I tried looking it up on the Internet, but I didn't even know where to start looking. Maybe it's God's revenge for me having so much sex." I looked down at my body. "So is this my reward for never having any?" Cole actually laughed, and not in a mean way. I didn't know he could do anything that wasn't in a mean way. He looked so scared and vulnerable. "I wanna go see a doctor." "I'm sure there's no need for that," I said reassuringly. "I bet you'll be back to normal by tomorrow." He looked back at me, doubtful. "My buddy Trent dropped by, but all he did was laugh at how I looked and my squeaky-ass voice. You'll help me, won't you?" His big eyes were pleading. "Sure thing, Cole." He leaned over and wrapped his lithe arms around me. When I hugged back, I could feel my erection lengthening. If Cole held me any closer, he was sure to feel it too. "There, there," I said, trying to pull away from him, but he was clinging to me desperately, making my cock grow even longer. As I squirmed to avoid intimate contact, I noticed the camera sliding out of my pocket and landing on the bedspread, with the adjusted photo of Cole still lit up on the screen. If he saw that, I'd be fucked, and not in the good way. I snatched up the camera and held it behind his back. I rested my chin on his shoulder and patted his back. I could feel his teardrops mixing with the sweat from my run. Let me say up front that I'm not proud of what I did next. I could blame it on the massive changes my body had gone through, which Dad had said took time to get used to. I could blame it on not having as much brain power as usual. I could blame it on having more testosterone in my system than Lance Armstrong on a bender, reliving old times. I could blame it on feeling Cole's tight little body pressed so close against me. But the truth was, I just desperately needed to get off. So I looked at the photo of Cole and quickly found the menu for "ORIENTATION". Cole's initial setting was, not surprisingly, rock-solid "HETEROSEXUAL" Since my giant cock needed a blow job right fuckin' now, he had to be into it one-hundred percent, so I swung him all the way to "HOMOSEXUAL". I wasn't dicking around. I clicked "ACCEPT", promising to myself that I would switch him back to "HETERO" as soon as I was done. The change in Cole's behavior was subtle, definitely not as dramatic as if I had made the switch right in the middle of him farting in my face last night. He was already hugging me, but feeling Cole's soft lips kissing my neck was strange. Fantastic, but something I could never have imagined would happen in a million years. He leaned back, his eyes looking a bit mystified, as if they weren't yet as fully with the program as the rest of his body. Then he pushed me back on the bed and climbed out of his oversized shirt, revealing that he still had decent muscle tone and the hints of a six-pack. Instead of the burly bruiser he had been this morning, he now looked like a scrappy high-school wrestler, and he was looking down at me with pure lust. He yanked down on my shorts and we were both amazed to watch my cock rise to a rigid ninety-degree angle. I didn't have a ruler handy, but we were probably looking at ten inches. I had set my max for twelve, so amazingly I still had some room to grow. Cole looked at it hungrily and bent down, burying his head in my pubic hair, which must have been pretty rank after my long run. "Mmm," he moaned. "Oh, yeah, baby." For the first time, I didn't mind him calling me "baby". Cole licked his way up my shaft before working the head and as much of the shaft as possible between his lips. Maybe the camera had implanted some techniques, but he sure seemed to know what he was doing down there. He stuck one hand into his loose cargos and started to stroke himself. He worked my balls and shaft with his other palm while tending to my head orally. I grabbed the foot of his bed with my hands and braced my feet against the headboard as his attack became more intense. I was getting so big down there that I worried he couldn't handle it, but between his teeth, his lips and his tongue, he kept working me into a frenzy. I tried to keep my moaning down, but the guys in the rooms next to us must have heard the banging of the bed. They'd probably assume it was just Cole and some chick. A chick with a really deep moan. My arms and legs tightened as I braced myself for an orgasm that could be measured on the Richter Scale. Jizz blasted into Cole's mouth and down his throat until the little guy had to pull away or else he would choke to death. He leaned against his headboard as my cock continued to blast his face and chest with hot cream. The pumping gradually slowed until my limp-ish cock flopped onto my abs and we both sagged lifelessly on the bed. Cole looked shell-shocked. "Sorry, man. Something just came over me." "Yeah, that was me." I smiled, looking at the glistening puddles on his skin. He laughed, pushing me playfully with his bare foot, then wriggled out of his shorts, giving me a good look at his erect cock. It was damn impressive, especially on his compact new body. Proportionately, it was probably bigger than mine. He seemed perfectly happy stroking it himself, but I figured I owed the guy now, so I crawled my way toward him. I knew basically what I was supposed to do, although I'm sure my technique was amateurish even for a first-timer. Fortunately, Cole was gentle and helpful. He ran his hands through my curly hair and told me how hot it looked. Then he guided my head onto his cock and talked me through what he wanted each step of the way. He gushed sooner than I expected, sending most of his cum onto my chin and chest, but he looked very satisfied. As I lay down with my head beside his, I felt something hard beneath me and heard the faint click of the camera. Cole curled up next to me and traced his finger along the contours of my muscles and into my belly button. "That was so 'not me', man. But I dunno, for some reason, it felt so right. Did you like it? Were you satisfied?" "Yeah, Cole, I had a great time." It was downright cute how vulnerable and considerate Cole had become. "I know people 'experiment' with sex in college, but I never thought I would," he said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just temporary. Maybe it'll blow over by tomorrow." "I'm sure that's it," I told him. With any luck, when I made him straight again, he'd retain some of this kinder attitude and wouldn't be such a giant ass any more. "So," he said in a sing-song voice, grinning at me, "you wanna fuck my ass?" He seemed very eager, but my conscience was weighing on me already for turning him temporarily gay. I didn't want to take any more advantage of him than I already had. It was almost like I'd slipped him a technological roofie. I told Cole I was going to take a shower. Between the cum and the sweat, I had never reeked so badly in my life. My running clothes stank nearly as bad. Once I was cleaned up, I knew I would have to conjure up some fresh clothes with the camera. I stood up, carefully palming the camera in my hand so Cole wouldn't see it, then slipping it into my underwear drawer. I took a long hot shower, kneading the shampoo into my plentiful curls and realizing I had no idea how to care for a hairdo like this. Then again, maybe once I altered the photo, my hair would just stay like that until I took another photo and changed it again. Sure would've helped if Dad had given me some helpful hints. I wasn't just tinkering with some ordinary product from his company like a virtual-reality system or a 3D printer. Well, actually, in a weird way, this was sort of the ultimate 3D printer. And I definitely felt like I was in a different reality. With a towel wrapped around my waist, and envious glances directed my way from my neighbors, I strutted back down the hall to my room. When I got there, Cole was gone. I hadn't seen him in the shower room or the bathroom. His oversized clothes were still lying on the bed and the floor where they had landed during our fuck session. Hard to imagine he was running around naked. As I looked in my own closet for something that even approximately fit me, I noticed that a few items were missing. Nothing special, just a small black tee, some skinny black jeans and purple high-tops, but they all would have easily fit Cole at his new size. Still in my towel, I ran back into the hall and looked for him. I asked around whether anyone had seen Cole. Nobody had. Nobody seemed to have any clue who I was either. I ran back into our room and looked out the window, to see whether Cole was wandering around outside the dorm, but I couldn't spot him. Fortunately, we had exchanged phone numbers on the first day, before I realized what a tool he was, so I grabbed my cell phone and called him. After the first ring, I noticed Cole's cargos inching slightly across the floor. Another ring, they moved again. I reached down and pulled his phone from the pocket of his discarded shorts. I figured I'd better undo the camera's effects before he got into a situation he didn't expect. I opened my underwear drawer and was relieved to still find the camera there. If he had discovered it and taken it with him, who knows what could have happened? I sat down on my bed naked and opened the revised photo of Cole. The word "SAVED" appeared at the bottom. I hadn't remembered saving the image...unless that was the click when I accidentally sat on the camera. I tried to re-open the photo and make further adjustments, but none of the menus would open. Come to think of it, I had never gone back to make additional changes after hitting "SAVE". Finally, a new message came on the display: "TAKE NEW PHOTO TO MAKE MORE CHANGES". Shit. So I would have to take another picture of Cole before I could change him back? That meant his horny little gay ass was wandering around out there, and it was all my fault. I tried to fit into some of my old clothes, but everything was far too tight. So, since Cole had borrowed some of my stuff, I figured I could wear some of his. God, he had terrible taste, though. The nicest shirts he had were either football jerseys or camouflage jackets. It took me a minute to remember that it really didn't matter what the clothes looked like to begin with. I could just change them to whatever I wanted. With that, I pulled on a sweatshirt, orange hunting pants, and muddy cowboy boots and took a picture of myself reflected in the mirror. I didn't have time to dawdle getting my wardrobe perfect, so I quickly converted my outfit into a short-sleeved blue button-down, gray wool trousers and black penny loafers. Instead of drying my long curly hair, I just shrank it into a blond buzz cut. And I had the presence of mind to bump my IQ back up. While I was at it, I even gave myself an extra twenty points. I was going to need all the brain power I could get my hands on. I clicked "SAVE". Now, I asked myself, where would Cole go if he were gay? I had no inkling where to start my search for my roommate Cole, having selfishly turned him from an abusive nincompoop into a frisky cocksucker just to satisfy my own sexual needs. Despite having boosted my intelligence substantially with the astonishing camera which my father had given me, I had little clue where my transformed roommate might have gone. Cole's cell phone, which I had retrieved from the pocket of the cargo shorts he left behind, began to vibrate. The screen displayed the name "SHILOH" with an accompanying photo of one of Cole's posse extending his middle finger. Those gentlemen were all class. I answered the call, stating, "Cole's phone." The person at the other end laughed. "Uh, yeah, hi, Cole's phone. Is Cole there?" "No. You're Shiloh, I take it?" "Yeah, this is Shy. Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck do you have Cole's phone?" With irritation, I replied, "I the fuck am...a friend of Cole's, and I the fuck have Cole's telephone because he left it behind." "Where'd he go? Trent said Cole looked mad sick and would probably be in bed all day. I was just checking to see if he's okay." "He's far from okay. Do you have any ideas about where he might have gone?" "Shit, I dunno. Let me call the other guys and see if any of them have heard from him. I'll give you a call back." "Thank you. I'll await your call." I hung up, wondering why I sounded so uptight. Was it because I had raised my IQ that that I was talking like I had a stick lodged up my rectum? "Rectum"? What was with my vocabulary suddenly? For the first time in my life I looked cool and sexy, yet I sounded like an insufferable pedant. It was time for another readjustment. I raised the miraculous camera to take another photo of myself in the full-length mirror. I was becoming ever more proficient at operating the variety of menus and submenus, which I used to nudge my IQ back down to its usual level. Fortunately, my standard level of intelligence was still well above average, just not obnoxiously so. I somewhat reluctantly bade farewell to my heightened intellect with a simple tap of my finger... ...and a rush of relief spread through my body. Being smarter had literally made my brain ache. It felt unnatural. I was glad to feel normal again. Well, at least as normal as I could in my new studly body. I took a seat, drumming my fingertips on my desktop and waiting for Shiloh to call back. I studied the camera, wondering how it operated. It looked like an ordinary digital camera, but its power to edit not just the photograph but the person in the photograph was phenomenal. It could definitely be misused in the wrong hands, and I wondered if "the wrong hands" included my own, seeing what I had done to Cole. Maybe that was why Dad had given me the camera without any instructions. Maybe he wanted to see what errors in judgment might be made even by someone who he trusted. If I couldn't handle the responsibility of using the camera, imagine the havoc that would be caused by someone with less impulse control, like Cole. The phone rang, displaying Shiloh's name again. I picked it up. "Shiloh. Any luck?" It was a relief to let words just fall from my lips again without my brain obsessing over proper sentence structure. "None of the guys have heard from him since Trent dropped by this morning. But I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure he's fine." "I'm not so sure about that." "Why not? I mean, who are you anyway?" "I'm...just a worried friend. Just like you. Can you help me search for him?" "Sure, I guess, if you're that concerned." "Where should we meet?" Shiloh thought for a second. "How 'bout the pier? He might be there, doggin' on chicks." Given how he was behaving before he left, I doubted that Cole would be "doggin' on chicks", but it was as good a place as any to start. We described what we were wearing so we would recognize each other at the pier. Shiloh said he was wearing a white "wife-beater", blue jeans and a purple baseball cap. Turned backwards, undoubtedly. It was like Cole and his buddies had been issued a bro uniform when they enrolled. I hurried to the pier as fast as I could, although it had been much easier running there in athletic shoes that morning than in the penny loafers I was wearing now. It was late afternoon and the place was crawling with minimally-dressed students, soaking in what might be the last warm day before autumn took hold. I felt way overdressed and considered sneaking off somewhere to zap myself into something more comfortable, but the truth was I thought I looked damn good. Just because I now had massive guns didn't mean I had to be flashing them constantly. I saw plenty of guys in white tanks and jeans hanging around, but only one in a purple cap...backwards, as expected. I dimly recognized Shiloh as one of Cole's crew, but he was clearly the runt of the litter. Although he was obviously trying to fit in with his fellow dudes, his efforts were almost too blatant -- not unlike the ways I had tried to make my weedy little body look cooler with tattoos and jewelry. It was hardly surprising that I had almost totally overlooked Shiloh, compared to Cole and his bulkier, hulkier comrades. Shiloh was short and skinny with pale skin, sloping shoulders and wispy chest hair poking out above his tank top. He had a pugnacious but fairly average face, with caterpillar eyebrows, dark eyes, a broad nose, thin lips and a rounded chin covered with scruff. I walked over with a friendly smile and said, "Shiloh, right?" "Uh, yeah. The guys call me Shy," he said, sizing me up. Clearly my bulky body was not what he pictured from our phone conversation. "I'm...uh, my friends call me Ry." Yes, all of my vast circle of non-existent friends. I extended my hand and shook his, realizing too late how hard I was squeezing his thin fingers. "You spotted Cole yet?" "Nah, I just got here," he said. "Trent said Cole looked really skinny this morning." "That's right. He might look shorter than usual too." Shiloh stared at me skeptically. "What the fuck? How does a guy get shorter overnight?" I just shrugged, playing dumb. As we prowled the pier, I hung a few steps behind Shiloh and couldn't help but fixate on how tightly his jeans fit, with no wallet in his back pockets to interrupt the smooth curve of his butt. I wondered if Dad had known that his camera would make me so sex-obsessed. Was that part of what the beta test was designed to explore? It was starting to feel more like an alpha test. My attention shifted from Shiloh's ass to a familiar pair of tan legs on a familiar bench. Kay, the girl from that morning, was lying on the same bench, only barefoot now, still reading the new Malcolm Gladwell with his latest theories on how everything works. Shit, I could finally remember the book and what it was about! She and I could have had a genuine conversation about it, if only I weren't in the middle of searching for Cole. "Hey, it's Kay, right?", I said, looming over her. She peered up, shielding her eyes and slightly confused. "I'm Ry. We talked this morning." It wasn't much of a conversation, but we HAD talked. "Oh, right," she said as the light of recognition went on. "I see you're wearing clothes now. You got a haircut too!" "That's right. I did." I brushed my palm across the bristles of my buzz cut. "You like it?" "I kinda liked the curls," she said with an inscrutable smirk. I felt like I had disappointed her. "I can always grow them back." I had zeroed in on Kay so much, I'd almost forgotten Shiloh was beside me, but Shiloh seemed used to being overlooked. "Oh, this is Shiloh. We're looking for a friend of ours we thought might have come to the pier. Since you've been here all day, maybe you noticed him. About yea tall," I said, raising my hand up to my chin level. "Dark wavy hair. Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Purple sneakers." Kay shook her head. "Sorry, I've been reading. You're probably the only person I noticed all day. Your friend sounds cute, though. Hope you find him." She raised her eyebrows and smiled. I grinned back and thanked her. I could swear she was flirting, but then everyone I saw today seemed to be turning me on. I might have to go into the camera settings and pick either totally straight or totally gay, just so my libido could ignore half of the world. As Shiloh and I walked away, I realized I didn't know exactly what to talk about with one of Cole's buddies. Wasn't their conversation mostly about sports and chicks? "That chick was pretty cute, don't you think?", I offered. Shiloh didn't seem all that impressed. "I suppose. If you're into that type." We swung by the campus clinic to see if Cole had come by to get checked out, but the receptionist didn't remember anyone of his description. We didn't find Cole in any of his other usual hangouts either, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that we would simply run into him by wandering the sprawling campus randomly. My big-ass body was starving, so we stopped in a Mexican restaurant and strategized. As I watched Shiloh stuffing a burrito into his mouth, for some reason it reminded me of Cole giving me a blowjob this morning. I realized I had to level with Shiloh about how much his buddy had changed. "I think you should know. What happened to Cole, I don't think it just changed him physically." "What do you mean?", Shiloh asked, chomping down another bite. "I think he's behaving differently too. Last time I saw him, he was acting...pretty damn gay." Shiloh burst into a laugh that sprayed rice and beans into my face. He looked embarrassed, reaching over with a napkin to wipe me clean. "Sorry about that. I just find it hard to believe that Cole would be gay." "Maybe he's been in denial." Or maybe a magical camera turned him gay. Nah, too crazy. "Is there, like, a gay part of town where he might have gone?" "Over on Sixteenth Street. Some people call it Sixty-Nine Street." He added, "So I hear." "Maybe we should head over there and look around." Shiloh looked dubious. "You and me walking Sixty-Nine? People will think we're a couple." Would that be so terrible, even if he was a bit puny for my tastes? Funny how I'd suddenly developed standards and thought I could afford to be choosy. "Cole might not come with me," I said, "but he might listen to you. You're his friend." "Aren't you his friend too?" Let's see. Cole had abused me from the moment we became roommates. Then this morning I turned him into a little gay boy without his permission. "I'd say we're more like acquaintances." Shiloh was skeptical of my theory but agreed to continue the search. Judging from the rainbow flags and other obvious signs, it appeared that the core of 69 Street was barely a block long. Shiloh seemed nervous to be around the neighborhood, but I was enjoying the sensation of guys ogling me with no hesitation. I unbuttoned a couple extra buttons on my shirt to display my pumped pecs. Despite the aura of cool I was hoping to project, I was pretty embarrassed when we went into one sex-toy shop, and Cole was blushing so hard, his skin almost matched the purple of his cap. The place still had those coin-operated porno viewing booths that I had heard about -- I guess for the last remaining pervs on earth without internet access. I wasn't about to knock on the doors to find out if Cole was using one of them. On the off chance that he was, I decided I wouldn't be asking for my purple sneakers back. Not seeing Cole prowling the aisles, we got out of there fast. As we stepped outside, Shiloh literally collided with a pedestrian, sending them both reeling in opposite directions across the sidewalk. "Watch your step, honey," the pedestrian said with annoyance. I instantly recognized the voice from this morning. Shiloh stared with fascination at the other guy. "Cole? Is that really you?" Shiloh's confusion was justifiable. With its turned-up nose and pillowy lips, Cole's face had already been changed by the transformation, but Cole had been a busy boy refining his look since then. He was still wearing my purple shoes but at some point he had ditched my black tee and jeans and was now wearing a white fishnet tee that exposed his abs and low-slung lime-green shorts. He had obviously spent some time in a salon too, as his nails were now black and his hair sported a magenta streak that matched his eye shadow. I may have turned Cole gay, but I took no responsibility for his fashion sense. Cole rushed over and hugged Shiloh. "Shy, baby! I'm so happy to see you!" Shiloh patted Cole's back, his eyes registering amazement, while Cole showed now hesitation as he groped Shiloh's cute butt. When they parted, Cole's attention shifted to me. His eyes roved my body and a smirk crossed his lips. "Oooh, and I remember you, big boy." He slinked over to me and pressed his lips on mine. I couldn't resist kissing back, and the intensity of Cole's passion was possibly even greater than it had been earlier in the day. Our public display of affection was so public that I could hear guys on the street whistling or clapping or yelling "Get a room." When we parted, I noticed Shiloh's dumbstruck stare. I looked back, doing my best non-verbal "I told you so." "What are you boys doing in this neighborhood?", Cole asked. "We came to take you home," Shiloh said. "Why would I go home? I'm having a blast, honey. I've never felt so happy." "But this isn't you!", Shiloh insisted. "I know. It's better, baby. You should try it sometime." Cole winked at me before his eyes drifted to a large hairy biker dude in leather pants walking past. Cole's head pivoted to keep an eye on the big guy and, as he set off in pursuit, he called back, "See you later, boys." Shiloh watched as Cole chased after the brutish guy and struck up a conversation. Shiloh turned to me and said, "I think you better tell me what's really going on here...baby." I froze, knowing that I'd been found out. "You are Cole's little roommate Ryan, right, Ry? The one he teased so much and called 'Baby'?" I nodded. Shiloh studied me. "Unbelievable. You look...totally different. So whatever changed Cole is probably the same thing that changed you, right? What is it you're not telling me?" I was pretty sure I was going to need Shiloh on my side to wrangle Cole if I had any chance of converting him back, so I pulled Shiloh in between two buildings where we wouldn't be overheard. "What I'm gonna tell you will sound nuts, but it's true. Can I trust you to keep a secret?" Shiloh nodded. As I looked in his eyes, he seemed to have an inherent honesty and integrity, which made me wonder again why he ever hung out with Cole and his buds. Still, I felt I could trust him. Without divulging any more details than were absolutely necessary, I showed him the camera and described how it could be used to essentially Photoshop someone so that their body changed in real life. "How does it work?", he asked. "I have no fucking clue," I said with complete honesty. I figured a demonstration would be the best proof I could offer, so I pulled up the last photo I had taken of myself and showed him the various menus. Since I had never saved the photo, it was still editable, so I decided to alter my clothing, looking around to make sure no one was watching. I quickly chose a wardrobe that might be more appropriate for this neighborhood. Shiloh watched in amazement as, one by one, I "tried on" new clothes on the camera screen which then appeared on my actual body with a simple click of the "ACCEPT" button. Within a minute, I went from my conservative outfit to an orange sleeveless tee, a pair of ripped-knee jeans and rhinestone-studded All-Stars. While I was at it, I decided to give myself a new tattoo, opting for a Maori design for my chest and upper arm. I felt a concentrated barrage of needle pricks as the pattern emerged across my skin. I even selected "JEWELRY" and added seven silver hoops to the upper edge of my right ear, gritting my teeth as the pain of seven piercings was condensed simultaneously into the space of five seconds, then quickly fading away. When the transformation was complete, I extended my arms to my sides and said, "Ta-da!" Shiloh gaped in awe. "Satisfied? Now let's go get Cole and turn him back." As I turned back toward the sidewalk, I heard Shiloh behind me. "Do me." I looked back, knowing that I should resist, knowing that I didn't need this situation to get any more complicated than it already was. "Do me. Please?" I could see a familiar longing in his eyes, the same desperation to be noticed that I'd carried within me for so long. Silently apologizing to my dad, I walked back between the buildings and asked Cole to pose against the wall. I snapped a shot. I studied his photo, my mind racing at the possibilities. "So what do you want me to change?" "Anything. Everything. Just make me look cool. Like you." The idea of me being the epitome of cool was absurd, but I dove eagerly into the task of reshaping wanna-be bro Shiloh into a hottie. "This first one's gonna hurt, but you'll thank me." I slid him from "ECTOMORPH" to "MESOMORPH" to put some meat on his scrawny bones. As I hit "ACCEPT", the changes began. He seemed remarkably unperturbed by the pain I knew he must be experiencing, but he seemed utterly distracted by the awesome sight of his muscles and skeletal system growing at lightning speed. I frantically bumped up the size of his clothes before his muscles had a chance to burst through them. Since he had left the aesthetic choices to me, I tanned his pale skin and whisked away the thatch of hair on his chest. Shiloh would be a metrosexual if I had anything to do with it, and I actually had everything to do with it. Flexing his reshaped right arm while rubbing his left hand across his newly smooth pecs, Shiloh looked over at me and smiled, our eyes now at the same height. "More" was all he said. His eyes looked dark and impenetrable, so I adjusted them to a lighter shade, giving them a seductive sparkle. I knew the next thing that had to go was that stupid baseball cap, but rather than simply asking him to remove it, I chose "HEADGEAR", then "NONE". The best way to de-bro him was to take away his options. I clicked "ACCEPT" and the cap vanished from Shiloh's head, dematerializing until it revealed Shiloh's greasy mop of stringy brown hair. I decided he would look much better as a blond with highlighted streaks. "Ow, it's vibrating," Shiloh said, clutching at his hair as a month of growth was crammed into under a minute and his dark locks lightened as if he had spent all summer at the beach. My options seemed endless. I thinned his eyebrows and streamlined his nose. I pumped up his lips and gave him a more pointed, manly chin. Unlike Cole, who I had modified with revenge in mind, I realized I was reworking Shiloh with the secret goal of turning him into the hottest eye candy I could imagine. Now, as the final pieces shifted into place, the growing feeling in my heart -- and my jeans -- told me that I had succeeded. I had created my ideal man. Too bad he was straight. But, wait, how did I know he was? He acted straight, but... While Shiloh was occupied checking out his new body, pulling up his white tank to examine his new abs, I surreptitiously pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. Just as it had told me I was bisexual and Cole was initially straight, the camera had determined that Shiloh was most definitely "HOMOSEXUAL". How the hell could a machine figure that out, just by taking a picture, when I couldn't tell from spending time with the guy? It was one of about eight-million questions I would be asking my dad once this whole adventure was over. At the moment, I was just psyched to realize that I had a chance with this golden hottie. It'd be my cosmic bad luck if I had the power to whip up my dream man only to discover that he had no interest in me. "What do you think?" I gestured to his new body. "It's a miracle," he said, grasping at his throat when he heard the resonance his voice had gained in the transformation. "Just so you know, I didn't do anything to cause this, but the camera indicates that...you're gay?" He hesitated before nodding. "Do Cole and the other guys know?" He shook his head. "Those guys? You can imagine how they'd have reacted." "Then why did you hang out with them?" "I dunno. It was better than being alone. Maybe I hoped a little of their macho would rub off on me. Plus...I think I had a little crush on Cole." My jaw fell. "Do you still?" Shiloh smiled. "Not so much after what you did to him. I like my guys..." He looked me up and down. "...big." He smiled and walked back to the sidewalk. We entered a clothing store so Shiloh could inspect himself thoroughly in a mirror. "Oh my god," he said with a hushed voice. "That's really me?" As if still in disbelief, he raised his arm to flex his biceps and was amazed to see his reflection doing the same. He smiled into the mirror, revealing a set of perfect teeth that made me swoon. He turned to me with moist eyes, then wrapped me in his powerful arms and kissed me. Mmm, the camera had done a great job on his lips. God, I loved technology. Shiloh walked out of the store with supreme confidence, his arm wrapped around my waist. We looked up and down the street for Cole until Shiloh finally spotted him. "Cole just went into the Manhole!" "He fell down a manhole?" "No, the Manhole. The club over there. He was still with the big hairy guy." Shiloh pointed down the street. "Great. We'll wait outside until they throw him out and then grab him." "Why would they throw him out?" "Because he's not 21. In fact, right now he looks about fourteen." "The Manhole is eighteen-plus most nights. If you want to drink, you have to wear a wristband." "You sure seem to know a lot about this place," I said teasingly. Embarrassed, Shiloh said, "I thought about going there a lot last year, but I always chickened out before I got to the door." "You think you're ready now?" He grinned back, cocky as shit, and said, "The question is, is it ready for me?" As he marched down the street, I held myself back a few steps, pleased with how breathtakingly his new ass filled out his bigger jeans. I could follow that butt anywhere. When we reached the bouncer at the Manhole, I showed my ID, relieved that I hadn't changed my face much. He must have wondered how I grew so much from the height and weight listed on the driver's license, if he bothered to check that at all, but he waved me along. Shiloh, who now looked nothing like he had ten minutes ago, just said that he'd forgotten his ID. Before the bouncer could deny him entry, a firm voice emerged from inside the front door, saying, "You are NOT turning away a boy who looks that fine." The bouncer stepped aside and let Shiloh enter. The owner of that mystery voice was a slim young guy with either a very wide mohawk or a very severe sidewall. He asked for ten dollars each. "I guess that's the Manhole cover," I joked. From his expression, I was not the first person ever to make that joke. The muffled booms of bass speakers vibrated the walls as we headed to the dance floor. It was tremendously loud inside the club. Amid the swirling, colored lights were probably two hundred guys, some coupled up, others playing the field. I followed Shiloh, noticing how many guys were leering at him or copping casual feels and wondering if I had done too good a job. If I wanted to keep him for myself, I might have to go back in and ugly him up a little. Shiloh looked exhilarated and overwhelmed to be in the middle of the crowd. I no longer needed a high-tech gizmo to determine this boy's orientation. I could tell from the delighted expression on his face. I ran my palms across Shiloh's sturdy shoulder muscles and down his arms, my thumbs following the lines of his biceps veins and over his forearms. We began to move in sync with the music, and I was pleased to see him devoting his full attention to me, despite the massive attention he was getting from others. As I pressed myself against him, I could tell from the lump in his jeans that I wouldn't be needing to make any alterations down there. Our eyes met and the next move was obvious. I took his hand and led him into the men's room where we found an empty stall. We must have looked absurd, two total studs who were utterly clueless about what to do next. All I knew was I needed him and he looked like he wanted me. I unbuttoned my 501s and pulled out my foot-long cock, which Shiloh studied with amazement. He knelt down, ready to latch his lips around it, but I needed more than a blowjob this time. I spun him around and positioned his hands against the tile wall, then reached around to slide his skintight pants down his legs. Man, did he have a magnificent ass. As I gently probed my way inside, Shiloh started to moan. I rested my chin on his shoulder as my hips gyrated, pushing further into him while my left hand stroked his growing cock. Even in here, the din of the club nearly drowned out our voices, although I doubt anyone would complain if they heard what we were doing. I went faster and faster, pressing my face against his back, my nose buried between his shoulder blades as his tank became soaked with his sweat. He reached his sinewy arms behind his shoulders and pulled off the tank top. I licked his salty skin and felt euphoric as my cock spurted inside his tight ass. Shiloh pounded his mighty fist against the wall while screaming with pleasure as his cock surged in my hand. He joined in the stroking until he began to spurt onto the wall. When we had both settled down, Shiloh turned to kiss me and I got my first clear look at his sculpted chest and abs. I must say, we looked pretty damn good for a couple of wimps. Someone knocked urgently on the door of the stall. "How long you gonna be in there?" Not wanting to hold up someone in desperate need, we quickly pulled up our pants and opened the door. The guy rushed in, followed momentarily by a friend. Shiloh stuffed his tank into the back pocket of his jeans, returning to the dance floor topless. I took his hand and we resumed dancing. Somehow, amid the mob of faces and gyrating bodies, obscured by dry-ice fog and epilepsy-triggering strobes, I finally spotted Cole on the balcony, going into overtime playing tonsil-hockey with the big hairy guy. Shiloh and I squeezed through the crowd and worked our way up to the balcony. Shiloh tapped on the hairy man's shoulder. "I need to talk to my friend." The hairy guy must have had a hundred pounds on Shiloh. "Fuck off," he demanded, pushing a finger firmly into Shiloh's sculpted chest, but Shiloh stood firm. Shiloh turned to Cole and asked, "Cole, is this guy bothering you?" Cole was staring at Shiloh, puzzled. "Do I know you?" "It's me, Shiloh." Cole's eyes widened. "Shy?" He literally drooled at the sight of his buddy's new body. "That's right," Shiloh said. "And this time, we're not asking, we're telling. We're taking you home." Cole looked conflicted, but the large man blocked the path between Shiloh and Cole. "I think you're wrong, pal. I'M taking him home." Shiloh tried to push the big guy aside to grab Cole, but the hairy guy punched Shiloh hard in the face. Shiloh fell to the floor, clutching his nose. When I stepped forward, the hairy guy turned his attention to me. "You gonna be as stupid as your friend there?" Big as I was, I couldn't envision winning a fight with this guy, so I backed off. The hairy guy wrapped his huge mitt around Cole's fragile wrist and started dragging Cole toward the exit. Cole looked back at us with fear in his eyes. I knelt down to check on Shiloh. "You okay?" He pulled his hand away and discovered his palm covered with blood from his nose. But he was undeterred. "Can that camera make us big enough to beat that motherfucker?" We ran into the bathroom, the only place in the club well lit enough to take a decent photo of the two of us. Then we ran out the front door, catching a glimpse of Cole being dragged around the corner by his new "friend". Shiloh and I ran down the sidewalk as fast as we could, while I simultaneously attempted to navigate the menus on the camera and change us before we lost track of Cole. With each pounding step on the pavement, the camera was jostled in my hand. I knew we were going to need bulk if we had any shot at wresting Cole away from his captor, so I chose the "BODY TYPE" menu and slid the dial way past "MESOMORPH" into "BEAST" and then "BEHEMOTH" mode. Feeling it would give us our best chance, I chose "BEHEMOTH", then "ACCEPT". An incredible rush of power swept through my body. My muscles grew two, maybe three times their already impressive size. My powerful legs slammed so heavily against the sidewalk, I could swear the cement was cracking under my weight. I looked ahead of me and realized Shiloh was undergoing the same transformation. It hadn't occurred to me, when taking one photo that included both of us, that any changes I made to the photo would affect Shiloh and me identically. I quickly changed our pants to black bicycle shorts, so they would stretch as our bodies enlarged. With a massive change like this, the rest of our clothes were goners, shredding on the fly and leaving a trail of tattered fabric behind us. I lagged behind Shiloh and could see his back and shoulders widening to inhuman size and his blond hair streaming like a mane behind him. Up ahead, the hairy guy had heard and undoubtedly felt our approaching footsteps. He now had Cole slung over his shoulder and was running toward a battered pickup truck. He flung Cole hard into the bed of the truck, seemingly unconcerned for the safety of his prey but determined to keep him away from us. He climbed into the driver's seat and revved his engine. Shiloh reached the truck before I did, grabbed the driver's side door and tore it completely off its hinges. Shiloh yanked the big guy out of the truck and tossed him into the street. Shiloh was reaching for Cole's hand when I noticed something that had escaped Shiloh's attention. "He's got a gun!" The driver had dragged a shotgun out of the cab of the truck with him, which he was loading quickly. Shiloh turned back to him with fury, chasing him down the street. He took the hairy guy's shoulder in one mighty paw while snatching away the shotgun with the other. Shiloh smashed the gun over his enormous knee and flung the remains over a nearby chain-link fence. The skinny kid I had only met hours before was now an unstoppable fighting machine. Even with similar size, I was nowhere near as fearless as Shiloh. Shiloh held the squirming man in his grip, then raised his humongous fist overhead, prepared to strike. I feared that a single blow from Shiloh could kill the man, so I screamed, "Stop!" I ran up and instructed Shiloh to make the big hairy guy stand in the glare of the headlights so I could take his photo. Shiloh smiled, seeing what I was up to, and tossed the hairy guy into the road where the lights illuminated him. Within moments, I had reduced our opponent to a five-foot-three ectomorph with a smooth hairless body. He stared with panic at the whittled-down specimen he had suddenly become. "I'll get you motherfuckers," he squeaked, running to the passenger side of his truck, leaping his skinny body through the open window and climbing into the driver's seat. He squealed down the road, with Cole hanging on desperately as he was flung around the truck bed. Shiloh chased after the truck on foot, until the truck spun a U-turn mid-block and came racing directly toward him. I ran onto the sidewalk and braced myself, but the truck remained in pursuit of Shiloh, who narrowly escaped by ducking between two parked cars. The truck smashed into the cars, shattering its windshield. I could see Cole attempting to jump free but he fell back into the truck bed as the driver shifted into reverse and sped off. Shiloh gingerly lowered his bulk to the sidewalk beside me, his long blond hair falling in a sweat-drenched curtain past his eyes. We were both exhausted. In the middle of everything, we barely had a moment to appreciate just how radically our bodies had changed. We must be hovering near seven feet now and well over 400 pounds, most of it muscle. "When I said I liked guys who were big, I never meant this big," said Shiloh in a voice so deep, I could hear it rattling nearby windows. "Sorry, man," I said, my voice even deeper than his. "I didn't have time for subtlety." "What do you say we change back and let the police handle it from here?", Shiloh asked. "Sounds like a plan," I said. I pushed myself to my feet, then extended my brawny arm to help my fellow hulk stand. The commotion had naturally drawn crowds out of the clubs of 69 Street to see what was happening, and our huge musclebound bodies were naturally attracting a lot of attention. I suddenly had the realization that I was no longer holding the camera in my hand. "Shit, I don't have the camera!" "Did you drop it somewhere?", Shiloh asked. I shrugged my massive shoulders and stepped as gingerly as possible into the street. Shiloh joined me in my quest. "I sure hope that asshole didn't run over it with his truck," Shiloh said. "I would not want to be stuck like..." I heard a crunch and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Shiloh was looking scared. He lifted up a gigantic foot, revealing the crushed remains of the miracle camera embedded in the asphalt. In unison, we said, "Oh, fuck." Shiloh and I stood in the dimly lit street, our astounding bodies each seven feet tall and bursting with more muscle than I'd ever seen on a human being -- if that's even what we were any more. Our shoulders and biceps were bigger than beach balls and solid as steel. Our lats flared out so dramatically that neither of us could lower our arms fully to our sides. A street light behind us showed off our musculature in sharp relief and cast long brutish shadows along the pavement. I was glad I'd had the presence of mind to switch us into stretch pants when our bodies became so gargantuan, so at least we weren't naked. Guys had run outside the Manhole and the other gay establishments of 69 Street once people heard the sounds of our frenetic battle with the guy who had taken Cole away with him. Everyone was keeping their distance from the two silhouetted giants in the middle of the road, but every-goddamn-body had a camera on their cell phone and was taking pictures and videos of us like two sasquatches who had just landed in the gay-borhood. Ironically, Shiloh and I were the only ones who didn't have a camera, and we were the ones who really could have used one, since it was my magical camera that had gotten us into this mess. Too bad Shiloh had accidentally stepped on it, his enormous weight grinding it into irreparable bits. I was surprised that I had maintained my composure and most of my wits. Shiloh was more riled up, having been in the heat of the battle with Cole's abductor, smashing the guy's shotgun and tearing the driver's side door off his pick-up truck. Shiloh was still wired with adrenaline and ran angrily toward the crowd with a menacing roar that echoed off the buildings. Everyone scurried back in fear, and I clamped one of my meaty paws on Shiloh's traps, dragging him back toward me. I spoke as softly as I could, even though it felt like everything I said in this new body was being bellowed through a megaphone. "Chill, Hulk. You don't have to 'smash'." Shiloh, still glaring furiously at the mob armed with their smartphones, asked, "Well, what do you suggest we do?" "We maybe got a minute before the cops show. I say we run as fast as these big-ass legs will carry us." "Where to?" "Someplace we won't be noticed." "Oh, that oughta be easy to find", Shiloh snorted sarcastically and it came out like a lion's roar. That gave me an idea. "Follow me." I spun on my heel and began to run away from the crowd. I could hear from the pounding at my heels that Shiloh was right behind me and that some of the crowd were attempting to keep up. Fat chance of that. Despite my bulk, I felt just as agile as I had earlier in the day when I weighed half as much. I'd never felt so exhilarated as I bounded at ten feet per stride, my muscles like coiled springs. I tried to keep us in dimly lit areas, under railroad bridges, in industrial areas where no one was working at this time of night, but I'm sure that the pounding of our feet alone made our presence obvious to anyone within several blocks. Maybe one sprinting muscle beast could slip by unnoticed, but two would definitely catch your attention. One unlucky driver must have gotten the scare of his life as he turned down the street toward us. He slammed on his brakes as fast as he could, and I miraculously hurdled his car. Shiloh leapt over the car too, but his heel clipped the rear bumper, knocking it clean off. Shiloh paused to look back, but I yelled for him to keep going. The sooner we vanished, the less likely the driver was to know what hit him. I did take one short cut over a parked car where I left a giant foot-shaped dent in the hood of the trunk. If you parked anywhere in the neighborhood of Sixteenth Street that night, I sincerely apologize. When we finally reached our destination, we had to scale a fifteen-foot concrete wall with barbed wire at the top. Leaping to the top was simple with our new muscles, and the barbed wire left little more than surface scratches on our thick hides. After being such a little dweeb all my life, it was extraordinary to experience life as an almost purely physical being. I felt practically indestructible. We slid down the other side of the wall and landed in a scummy, stagnant water pool. We had become so animalistic in our behavior by that point that we felt refreshed, splashing ourselves and each other playfully, joyfully. We even cupped water in our hands to slurp it up and rehydrate after our marathon run. At that point, we both came to our senses and spat out the putrid stuff. Shiloh looked around. "What is this, a zoo?" I grunted affirmatively. "So we're in a cage with wild animals?" He scanned his surroundings with fear, moonlight catching in his eyeballs. "There are no animals. It closed down a couple years ago. My folks used to bring me here when I was little. Never thought I'd be on this side of the cage." I lay down on the cement where apes used to prowl, feeling my gigantic ribcage expanding and contracting as I caught my breath. Shiloh prowled our new habitat, on alert for anyone or anything approaching. He began to swing swiftly on a rusted old set of bars that had been installed for the apes to play on. Part of me was already making plans for what Shiloh and I could do with bodies like these. Obviously, we would be the center of attention wherever we went. We could probably go into football, pro wrestling, acting, modeling. I didn't think they'd let us into bodybuilding with the head start Dad's camera had provided. Then again, once Dad's camera went on the market, body building the old way would probably become obsolete. As would dieting. And plastic surgery. And shopping for clothes. And visiting the barber. This one little gadget might drive half the companies in America out of business. Dad and his colleagues were in line to become the richest people on earth, or the most hated, or most likely both. As I rested a hand on my thigh, I noticed something tiny and hard caught in my skintight pants. My cell phone! Even when I transformed our pants into running shorts, eliminating pockets, the phone in my front pocket had survived the change and was pressed firmly against my flesh. I gently pulled down the shorts and carefully extracted the phone, which now felt so tiny in my oversized palm that I was afraid I would crush it. If I'd had to dial individual digits with the bratwursts my fingers had become, I'd have been shit out of luck, but fortunately the person I needed was on speed dial. As the phone began to ring, I raised it to my ear. "Hey, big guy, what's shaking?" came the comforting voice of my dad on the other end of the line. "Why, what have you heard?" was my response, coming out in my laughably low new voice. "Holy cow, Ryan, is that you?" "Yeah, Dad. I need your help." Sternly, Dad asked, "Have you been using the camera some more?" "A little." I could probably lift a semi with my bare hands right then, but Dad's disappointed tone instantly transformed me mentally into an eight-year-old afraid to admit that he had knocked a baseball through the neighbor's window. "I warned you to take it easy with that thing. But don't worry, if you've pushed yourself too far, there's a quick fix that'll reset you right back to normal. You got the camera with you?" "Ummm...that's part of the problem. The camera got kinda...crushed." A long pause from Dad's end. "How 'kinda' crushed?" "Like oblivion crushed." Dad let out a world-record sigh. I waited for him to say something, anything. "You still there, Dad?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just trying to get a fix on your coordinates. Looks like you're at the old zoo, right?" "Right. How'd you know that?" "When the camera transformed you, it put radioactive tracers in your body. I'm seeing another big blip. Is someone else with you?" "Yeah, my friend, Shiloh." My delight at being able to tell my dad that I had made a friend at college was tempered by the knowledge of what I had turned that friend into. He was currently atop the monkey bars, pounding his chest like Tarzan and yowling at the moon. I shushed him, not wanting to draw any attention to our hideout. "Okay, hang on, buddy. I'll be right there," Dad said. "Thanks, Dad. Hurry." I could hear distant sirens and couldn't imagine that Dad could drive here before we'd be discovered by the cops. I was walking toward Shiloh to give him the good news that Dad was on his way when I saw a weird glow over the water pool. The air above the ground seemed to be thickening and pulsating, reminding me of my initial transformation when the camera sucked me through space to another location via some gelatinous portal. Sure enough, I saw the outlines of Dad's shape emerging inside the glow. As he stepped his way through the ethereal goo, he became aware that he had beamed in at ground level, while the ground beneath him was actually several feet lower. He plunged into the stagnant water of the apes' drinking hole. I rushed over to grab him as he scrambled out of the water, carefully holding his camera aloft so it would not get wet. I reached out and wrapped my fingers completely around his forearm. He seemed unprepared for just how monumental I had become. "Oh my, Ryan. What have you done to yourself?" "I just wanted to put on some muscle. Things got out of hand." "Nice understatement, son. I know how sensitive you are about your size. I thought you'd use the camera to give yourself a few minor adjustments so you'd fit in better with the other college kids. But this, son, this is not fitting in." "I know I screwed up, Dad, jeez. Why do you think I called you?" I must have been the whiniest gigantic muscleman in the history of gigantic musclemen. Dad dropped the lecturing tone. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm glad you called me." He noticed Shiloh, who was hanging on the monkey bars. "And you must be Shiloh. I'm Ryan's dad. Nice to meet you." Shiloh dropped down and ran toward us, slumping forward and practically running on all fours. Dad looked around the spooky old zoo. "Well, one thing in our favor. At least you came to a nice isolated place to experiment where no one could see you." The silence from Shiloh and me must have been pretty obvious, as were the sirens in the distance which were growing louder. Dad looked up at me wearily. "People saw you, didn't they?" Shiloh and I nodded like bad little boys. I had to tell Dad, "We're probably on YouTube by now." "Fuck!", Dad yelled. I think I'd only heard him drop the F-bomb twice before in my life and never with such well-deserved ferocity. "If my company learns that I gave my son an untested prototype and that he turned himself and his buddy into monsters..." "We are not monsters!", Shiloh shouted, his words bouncing off the concrete walls as he shook a cinder-block-sized fist at Dad. I ran behind Shiloh and grabbed his arms to keep him from attacking Dad. "Well, you won't be in a minute," Dad said, raising his camera. It looked slightly different from the one I'd been given, bulkier with extra modifications, like a newer model that had been jerry-rigged in the lab. Dad quickly took a flash photo of Shiloh and me and started to manipulate the menus. I hovered over his shoulder -- high above his shoulder -- and watched how masterfully he worked the controls. I thought I had been getting the hang of it, but Dad had clearly been fiddling with this device for months or maybe even years. "If you have a picture of two people, the command affects both of them," I told Dad, offering one of my hard-learned lessons as if he might not already been aware of it, even though he was probably the person who had designed it to work that way. "That's right, son, but there's an easy override for that. What I'm trying to do is trickier. I want to set you both back to the way you started, which would be MUCH easier if I was working from the camera that made the changes in the first place." Nice way to rub it in, Dad. I already apologized for that. "Do you have to change us back?", Shiloh asked. "I feel kinda awesome like this." He flexed an arm and admired his massive biceps pump. "You're caught up in the endorphin rush, but it'll fade soon. You've expanded your body parts to inhuman proportions, way beyond the size at which they were designed to function. Your heart, your lungs, your brain, they're all straining to support what you've become. If you stay like this, you'll be dead in two days." "Okay, you can change us back," Shiloh said, all menace and bravado immediately gone from his voice. "Ah, there it is!", Dad screamed. "I connected back to the lab. All your settings were stored back there every time you used the camera, so I can revert you to your original states. You better brace yourselves. It's going to be quite a shock to be yourselves again." Shiloh and I walked over to the monkey bars and gripped them tightly. Dad gave us no warning that the process was already in motion. It felt like I was being crushed by a black hole, becoming smaller and denser at such a speed that I worried it might keep going until I was reduced to nothingness. The metal bar in my hand seemed to be getting bigger when it was really my hands growing smaller around it. It was a relief when my extreme hyper-inflated muscles were gone, but I genuinely felt comfortable when I had reached the size of the miniature weightlifter of my initial transformation. I felt like yelling to Dad to stop the shrinkage right there, but I was going all the way back to my frail "baby" weight. I felt so distanced from that version of me after all that had occurred, it was hard to believe that I had only been Big Ry for the past twenty-four hours. When I could feel the process coming to an end, my hands slipped from the metal bars, my knees buckled and I fell to the concrete, whacking my head and discovering that pain was once again a factor in my life. I looked blearily across the way and saw Shiloh coming to grips with being ordinary again too. All the "improvements" which I had made to him were gone. Shiloh was no longer the blond sex god of my dreams. He was just a regular guy trying to look tougher than he was. We were each wearing the jeans that had worn before our first transformations, but the rest of our clothes were missing, since whatever they had been changed into by the camera was shredded when we grew to behemoths. Interestingly, Shiloh's backwards baseball cap had returned from the oblivion where I sent it, having been stored in memory back at the lab. My ears had been ringing throughout the shrinking process, but I could now distinctly hear the sirens closing in. In another minute, we would be discovered trespassing at the zoo and we'd have a lot of fast talking to do. Dad hustled over and gathered Shiloh and me close together, holding out his arm to snap a selfie of the three of us. As soon as the flash went off, we could hear voices outside the wall as cops noticed the burst of light. "I've never transported three people at once, but it SHOULD work," Dad informed us. "We would have overwhelmed the system's capacity if you were still the size of human tanks, but we shouldn't have much trouble with you kids." Shit, I was back to being a kid. I can't speak for Shiloh, but my heart was racing with fear that we were going to get caught. Dad seemed unworried and unhurried. He pulled up the "BACKGROUND" menu -- something I'd forgotten about since last night -- and input very specific latitude, longitude and elevation coordinates, an option that hadn't been included on the model Dad had given me. The screen previewed the three of us against a plain white wall instead of the murky background of the zoo. Dad pressed "ACCEPT" and wrapped his arms around Shiloh and me. I realized too late that I'd better warn Shiloh what he was in for. "Shiloh, it's gonna feel like..." By the time I could say, "...squeezing through Jell-O," we had already made the freaky transit through space and were standing in an all-white room that I recognized as one of the labs at Dad's company. Shiloh was reeling. He braced himself against a counter top to keep from falling and turned to Dad, wide-eyed. Of all the shit he had seen and experienced today, this teleportation had blown his mind the most. "How did you do that?" "Simple. The hydrogen componolizer interacted with the dichlorium atoms in your duodenum, generating a paradoxical flux which reverberated against the polonium-synchronized geographical wave spectro-analyzer and creating a temporal parahelion dispersion of point-two-seven." Shiloh stared at Dad, in awe. I laughed and said, "That was just a bunch of nonsense, Dad." Dad smiled. "Yeah, but if I'd said, 'It's magic,' you wouldn't have believed me." And with that, he walked purposefully toward a computer work station, where several other working models of the camera were charging. Shiloh and I stared at each other. In the course of one day, we had been hunks together and hulks together, but now we were face to face as our real selves. Two skinny guys, same height, same weight, with more in common than we would have assumed that morning. "Almost forgot what you looked like," Shiloh said. "I dunno why Cole made so much fun of you. You're a cute guy." Even in the dim light of the lab, I'm sure it was obvious that I was blushing. The way Shiloh was examining my emaciated frame, I got goosebumps. "I thought you liked your guys big." "I do." Shiloh's slim lips curled up. "But size isn't everything." Across the room, Dad cleared his throat loudly and started humming some unrecognizable tune, which is what he always did when he heard something he felt uncomfortable hearing. Shiloh and I walked over behind him to see what he was checking on his computer. He was cycling through all of our vital statistics which the camera had recorded. "Looks like you two guys are safely back to normal, so that's a relief. I can survive any shit I'm going to get from the company, but if I had done anything to harm you..." "I know, Dad," I said, wrapping my skinny arm around his shoulders. I could feel his body tense up, and he leaned forward to look at something on his computer. "What is it?" "I'm seeing two more blips," pointing to two bright spots on a map of the city, not far from Sixteenth Street. Dad turned to me, looking like he might be willing to harm me after all. "Care to enlighten me?" Shiloh scooted his body between Dad's and mine, trying to explain. "I did them!" Dad glanced at Shiloh, then angrily back at me. "You let someone else use the camera?" I was in the middle of shaking my head when Shiloh blurted out, "Ry didn't know. I snuck it away from him and did it totally on my own. Please, it's not his fault." Dad glared at Shiloh. "So are you telling me there are two more monsters on the loose out there?" "No! I made them both skinny! Skinnier than we are now! That shouldn't be dangerous, right? I mean, not as dangerous as super-sizing at least." Dad thought it over, still unhappy. "Well, no, in our tests, we've found that making the body smaller and leaner is actually healthier, within reason." Dad sat down, his temper cooling. His eyes darted between Shiloh and me as he decided whether or not to believe Shiloh's story. "Can you keep tabs on these other two? And if you notice ANY adverse changes in them, you'll bring them to me immediately for testing?" Shiloh and I said, "Yes" at the same time. I added "Dad". Shiloh added "Sir". Dad took blood samples from both of us and ran tests on them. While we waited for results, I checked YouTube on Dad's computer. Sure enough, a dozen or more grainy videos had already been posted of two mysterious figures prowling the streets of the city. Fortunately, nobody got a good shot of our faces -- not that either of us resembled those two gorillas any more. The company had a TV in the break room and we watched the late news with Dad. The monster rampage was naturally the lead story on all the channels, but the police seemed baffled. They thought they had the beasts cornered at the old zoo, but a thorough search turned up nothing. They did say that police were seeking a man who drove off in a pickup truck at a high rate of speed and they showed his mug shot from a previous arrest. Shiloh and I immediately recognized him as the big hairy guy who had taken off with Cole. He looked even scarier in the mug shot than he had in real life, with scowling features and steroidal muscles. "That's one of the guys, sir," Shiloh told Dad. Dad studied the screen. "And you say he's smaller than you boys now? I think you did the world a favor." Dad smiled and went to check on the blood tests. Left alone together in the lab, Shiloh and I stared at each other nervously. "So, what are we gonna do now?" "Life will go back to normal, I guess. I'll be my old wimpy self and you'll hang out with the rest of Cole's posse of douchebags." "I don't think I can, after this." "I know what you mean." "And what about...us?", Shiloh asked warily. "I dunno. I mean, I really loved what we did together, but I still like girls too." I looked down at my once-again anemic body. "But they probably won't like me. Story of my life." "Any girl, or guy, would be lucky to have you," Shiloh said, walking over and kissing me on the mouth. His lips weren't as luscious as the ones I'd specifically chosen for him, but they had the benefit of authenticity. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Anyone would be lucky to be kissed by Shiloh. I heard Dad clear his throat and begin to hum again in the hallway. Shiloh and I parted quickly as Dad reentered the room, pointedly looking down at a computer printout. "Good news, guys. I'm not seeing anything scary in the blood tests. You probably weren't at enormous size long enough to cause any permanent damage to your organs, but you let me know if you notice anything unusual in the next few days. Fatigue, migraines, shortness of breath, pain in your joints, pain in your...loins." Shiloh and I nodded. Dad got out his cell phone and called two cabs to pick us up. "I assume you two don't mind going back to campus the old fashioned way?" "Fine, Dad," I said. "I think I've been sucked through Jell-O enough for one lifetime." "Absolutely," said Shiloh. "You positive we didn't screw up anything for you?" "I'm sure I'll be asked a few stern questions in the morning," Dad said. "But your little unauthorized field test gave us tons of data to study. And quite a few more ethical questions to debate." When the cabs arrived, Dad shook Shiloh's hand, then gave me a warm hug. I heard him whisper in my ear, "Have fun at college, son. Make me proud." I was happy that, after all of this, it was obvious that he still loved me. I got in the cab and, as we drove away, I felt something hard in the back pocket of my skinny jeans. I wriggled in my seat and extracted it. Shiloh and I were amazed to discover that Dad had slipped another camera in my pocket, with a Post-It attached. In the passing street lights, I was able to read the note: "Ryan, This camera's options are limited. Yours are not. Love, Dad" "What do you think that means?", Shiloh asked. "I dunno." When we reached my dorm, I invited Shiloh to come up so we could check out the camera. Dad had deactivated most of the menus, but I discovered two presets, one with my name and one with Shiloh's. I snapped my picture in the full-length mirror, then applied my preset. My image on the screen now looked exactly like the musclebound stud I had first changed myself into the previous night. I clicked "ACCEPT" and braced for the standard painful contortions, although they felt like nothing compared to being enlarged to "BEHEMOTH" size. As the metamorphosis occurred, I realized that my mind hadn't dulled. Dad must not have lowered my IQ the way I had during my original transformation. I couldn't blame him. He wasn't spending good money to send a dope to college. Shiloh watched enviously as I evolved back into Ry before his eyes. As I grinned down at him, I could have predicted his next words. "Do me." He stood against the wall, still in his dumbass baseball cap. I eagerly applied the preset "SHILOH" modifications and pressed "ACCEPT". Shiloh was wracked with pain as his slim body was once again wrapped in lean muscle and sun-kissed skin, and his face regained the features I had given him, the sleek nose, the powerful cleft chin, the ultra-kissable lips. His purple hat evaporated and his hair turned from brown to golden. I reached both hands toward him and lifted him to his feet. We stood in the middle of my room, thick arms wrapped around each other's torsos, studying each other closely. If he had any imperfections, I couldn't see them, but I hoped to inspect him very, very closely, very, very frequently. We stripped off our clothes and tumbled onto my bed, our combined weight testing the limits of the springs. Since I had taken the lead back at the Manhole, I let Shiloh assume control now. Our powerful bodies slid across each other, working up a quick sweat. Long strands of Shiloh's blond hair dangled into my eyes as he explored my mouth with his tongue. My hands slid down along his ribs until I reached up and squeezed his ass cheeks. I felt his cock pressing against my abs and starting to ooze precum, so I wriggled underneath him until I was face down. He slid his erection gently but firmly inside of me and I yowled with a mix of pleasure and pain, clawing at my pillow and tensing my legs. Shiloh's strong hands were pressed against my back for support as the pace of his humping accelerated. When Shiloh came inside me, it may have been the best feeling I'd had all day, and after a day like this, that was saying something. But my cock was still rigid, so I flipped over and wrapped my hands around Shiloh's neck, pulling him down toward my erection. As he lovingly applied his tongue and lips to my shaft, slowly and lovingly bringing me to orgasm, the "best feeling of the day" competition had a new winner. Shiloh lay beside me, brushing his bristly chin against my cheek and rubbing his hand up and down my chest. He whispered in my ear, "Thank your dad for me." I laughed. I probably wouldn't mention this specifically to Dad, but I was glad he had been so cool about everything. I'm sure I had changed many of his perceptions of me that day. Shiloh slept over with me. Cole never did come back to the room that night, and in the morning we decided it was more important to track him down than to go to our classes. We knew basically where the blips had shown up on Dad's computer screen and hoped that Cole might still be near there. Sixty-Nine Street wasn't as active in the daytime, and city crews were still busy cleaning up the damage from last night's fracas. Shiloh and I attracted our share of attention as we walked down the sidewalk, but we had no fear that anyone would imagine that two studly gentlemen like ourselves were in any way connected with the massive creatures who had terrorized the town the night before. As we walked further down the street, I noticed something and grabbed Shiloh by the elbow, pulling him backwards. We had just walked past a pickup truck. One that was missing its driver's side door. Jackpot! Now all we had to do was figure out where... "Hey, boys!" We turned and were amazed to see Cole -- at least the slender twinky version of Cole I had created -- leaning against a wall. "Cole!", Shiloh shouted, looking relieved that his former crush was still alive and seemingly unharmed. Cole was wearing a sheer black tank that was way too big for him and a black Speedo that seemed to fit just fine. He still had on my purple sneakers. Even in this part of town, it was an unconventional look for street clothes in broad daylight, but he was pulling it off. It was a bit annoying that I had made my tormentor look so fucking cute. "Thank god, you escaped from that lunatic!", Shiloh said. "What lunatic? You mean Jerry? Oh, he's such a sweetheart. I'm waiting for him so we can go get matching tats." Shiloh and I couldn't believe what we were hearing. "You're still hanging out with the guy?", I asked. "Uh-huh. He's inside buying some new clothes right now. He woke up this morning and couldn't find a thing that fit. Fortunately his ex had left behind some clothes that were just right for me. You like?" "It's definitely a different look for you" was as much as Shiloh would commit. "So when you coming back to school?", I asked. Cole shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno if I will. Jerry wants me to go to a motorcycle rally in Reno with him. He's got a Harley and I can ride on the seat behind him!" The prospect seemed to excite him, if you could judge by his Speedo. Not that I really wanted old Cole back in the world, but my conscience was killing me. "Are you really sure about this? I found out there's a way to cure what you've got so you'll like chicks again." I had checked overnight, and the camera still would allow me to alter a person's sexual orientation. "Chicks? No thank you!" He flapped his hands dismissively. "No chick ever appreciated me the way Jerry does. Oh, and here comes my baby now." Even though I knew I had reduced him to an ectomorph in the middle of last night's craziness, Shiloh and I were unprepared for the shock of seeing the new Jerry. He was walking down the sidewalk toward us, zipping up his new leather jacket, his skinny legs encased in tight leather pants. Unlike the thuggish lout who had nearly run over Shiloh with his truck last night, he now looked like a boy-band dreamboat trying to look like a tough guy, with a slightly shaggy pile of light brown hair over a baby face that had never felt the touch of a razor. "Mmm, check out my sexy little boy-toy," Cole said. "Doesn't he look fantastic? Jerry, these are my dear friends Shiloh and Ryan." "Uh, yeah, we met last night," I said cautiously. I had been worried about running into last night's hothead again, but I felt pretty sure Shiloh and I could handle Jerry now. Jerry peered his bright blue eyes through the fringe of his bangs. "Oh, hey, how you guys doing today?" If he was still mad at us, it sure didn't show. He was positively meek as he wrapped a leather-clad arm around Cole's body, palming an ass cheek. Cole kissed Jerry on the forehead. Cole may be a shadow of his former self, but the camera had made Jerry even tinier, several inches shorter than Cole. "Awesome outfit, Jerry," Shiloh said. "Cole says you guys might be going to Reno?" "Yeah, if he'll let me buy his sweet ass some leathers. Somewhere around the Continental Divide, he'll realize he needs more than a tank top and Speedos." "We've got time, baby. Lots and lots of time." Cole gave Jerry a long French kiss, then smiled back at us. "So good to see you boys again." He blew us kisses, then they got into Jerry's truck and drove off. Shiloh and I watched the truck disappear around the corner. We were shell-shocked. "Holy shit," I said. "I guess your posse really is breaking up." "Good riddance. So...does that mean you have an opening for a new roommate, Ry?", Shiloh asked with a sly grin. I smiled back and teased, "Only if he looks as good in leather as Jerry." Shiloh's eyebrows leapt at the idea. He practically raced into the leather shop. As Shiloh began trying on jackets, I pulled out my camera and reopened my photo from last night. I hadn't pressed "SAVE", so it was still editable. I pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. My finger hovered over the screen as I thought about Kay from the pier and all of the girls in high school who had been content to be my friend but nothing more. And I thought about what Cole had said about Jerry. No "chick" had ever appreciated me the way Shiloh did. I slid the dial from "BISEXUAL" to "HOMOSEXUAL". I clicked "ACCEPT". I didn't feel much change, actually. Only a sense of calm and clarity as I watched Shiloh sliding his bare brawny arms through the holes of a leather vest. Goddamn, he looked hot. I might need to buy one of those too. I clicked "SAVE".
  9. He was beautiful. That was the first thing anyone who had better than 1000/20 vision noticed about Britton Waverley. He had always been beautiful, from the crib when his eyes took up about half of his cherubic face, but now that he was in college, Britton Waverley was approaching otherworldly status. He was so handsome that he never had to ask twice for anything. His irises were like sapphires inlaid beneath his eyelids, and when he smiled and they sparkled, Britton got his way. A face as gorgeous as Britton’s only had full effect if the body attached was suitable, and Britton’s certainly was. Long hours in the gym had carved the muscles on his 6'3" frame into chiseled perfection. His pecs pushed out in a square shelf, his shoulders were broad and rippling, and his arms were constantly testing the limits of his shirt sleeves. Britton loved clothes, and he was still deciding whether he would allow himself to bloom into a full-fledged bodybuilder. 22-inch arms wouldn’t fit in his crisp shirts and expensive blazers. And yet, he kind of wanted 22-inch arms. His present 18-inchers were nice and got him plenty of action, but oh, to be bigger… Britton was a genuine prep, and came by it honestly. He’d been educated in exclusive, high-priced schools and had spent his summers at his family’s beach house on the East Coast. He knew how to ride horses, play lacrosse and tie a bow tie. His father, Ambassador Waverley, wasn't crazy about the muscles, saying they made Britton look intimidating and unapproachable, but also too much like a common laborer. Then again, the ambassador always was a bit old-world in his thinking. When it came time for him to enter college, Britton Waverley had quickly been snapped up by the oldest and most prestigious fraternity on campus: Alpha Alpha Alpha. Officially the Tri-Alphas, but of course everyone just called them ‘The Alphas.’ It was a nickname that fit. There wasn’t a guy in the brotherhood who stood under six feet tall, and there wasn’t a shirt in the house smaller than a snug size large. The body standards were whispered about on campus, but never officially confirmed, because no Alpha man would talk about it. They could occasionally be seen going on shirtless runs – pecs bouncing, abs glistening with sweat – to the campus recreation center, where starry-eyed lifters would follow them around and try to copy their routines. Even among this pack of top dogs, Britton stood out as a natural leader, but perhaps because he had always found himself to be the automatic object of immediate adoration, he also felt no need to feed his ego and grab the spotlight. This generosity of spirit, combined with an intuitive instinct of charity toward those less fortunate than himself, made him seem just as perfect on the inside as he clearly was on the outside. Upon his initiation to the Alphas, Britton had learned of the fraternity's mystery-shrouded legacy, one which was never to be revealed to outsiders. Unlike the other frats on campus which existed primarily as social bonding groups committed to discovering the best way to consume fermented hops, the Alphas took their Greek roots seriously. As it was told to Britton and the other pledges waiting to be inducted, the Alphas could literally be traced back to the ancient Gods of Greece and were the keepers of the Gods' most incredible secrets. Chief among them was possession of (pause for dramatic effect) the nectar of the Gods! Britton found this all a bit silly, but figured a bit of overwrought showmanship could be expected with any initiation ceremony and was ultimately harmless. In the basement of the frat house, Britton and his fellow newbies were asked to strip naked and kneel in a circle. Britton felt the urge to chuckle at the absurdly solemn rite, but he knew how seriously the frat took its sacred ceremonies and contained his amusement. He glanced around the circle at the other recruits to see if anyone else was daring to crack a smile, but no one dared. It struck Britton just how handsome and well-built all of these young men were. Clearly the Alphas had exceptionally high standards and only recruited those who measured up. From the looks of it, those criteria included a certain required penis length. Inwardly, Britton took a bit of satisfaction in the realization that, even in that category, he was top of his class. Two high-ranking officers of the fraternity stepped to the center of the circle wearing red robes with hoods over their heads and sandals on their feet. One carried a crystal bowl filled with a golden goo the consistency and color of honey. The other dipped a glass ladle into the viscous liquid and brought it to the lips of the new pledges one at a time. In turn, everyone who was given a taste closed their eyes in ecstasy and began to rub their bodies slowly and sensually. Britton was impressed by how willing everyone was to play along with the heightened nature of the ritual. He vowed not to get so carried away, but when his own name was spoken in grandiose tones and the ladle was lifted to his lips, the scent alone was enough to knock him for a loop. The nectar may have looked like honey but it had an intoxicating floral scent that matched no flower he had ever come across. The thick ooze passed through his lips and onto his tongue, where the tingling of his taste buds seemed to trigger a simultaneous flash of fireworks across the back of his eyelids. He discovered immediately that his compatriots had not been faking their joy for the sake of any charade. A comfortable burn shot rapidly through his nervous system, invigorating his entire body, sending waves of energy pulsing through every muscle. Britton groped himself unashamedly before collapsing backwards on the floor. Britton had no idea how long he was out before he became aware of the excited buzz of chatter throughout the room. His eyes opened slowly and he looked around to discover that he was one of the final few pledges who were still lying on the floor. Most of the rest were standing around, still naked, casually drinking beers and having jovial conversations with the upperclassmen. Britton also noticed that the new initiates were unable to go more than a few seconds without checking out their bodies, which had each gained a solid twenty pounds of muscle. Britton pushed himself onto his knees to do a quick self-inspection and discovered that his body too had been morphed by the nectar into something even more spectacular than good genes and hard work had produced. He rose to his feet and joined his fellow Greek gods for a brewski in the buff. -------- The Alphas were even more insular than your typical frat, rarely associating with any other Greeks on campus, let alone the common rabble. The nectar and its effects had given them a special bond which most of the Alphas felt elevated them above the other students. Britton was one of the few who retained a strong connection to the rest of the campus, becoming involved in student government, dining frequently at the student union rather than the frat, working as a math tutor, and volunteering three hours a week at the campus free clinic. He met so many students who were intelligent and good spirited but hadn't gotten the lucky breaks and genetic head-start that he and the other Alphas had, not to mention the mystical boost that had elevated Britton and his fellow frat brothers into almost superhero status. When Britton was unanimously chosen to lead the search committee for prospective new recruits, he was determined to open the process to guys who didn't look like they had stepped off an Abercrombie and Fitch bag. This proposal was met with deep skepticism when he suggested it to the Alpha president, Kip Koenig, whose strong preference was to keep the Alphas as they had always been. But Britton argued that, once a suitable new recruit had been located and given a sufficient dose of the nectar, he ought to fit right in. Despite Kip's serious misgivings, he came onboard with Britton's experiment with one condition. He could only bring in one prospect who didn't match the frat's traditional physical qualifications. If that worked, he might agree to less stringent criteria in the future. With that, Britton was dispatched to find the student most deserving of an Alpha upgrade. He already had someone in mind. -------- It was a tightrope walk. Britton didn’t want someone who was going to become a raging, vindictive asshole as soon as they were given the opportunity to walk the world in a more attractive shell. He thought he had found his guinea pig in Jared, a rotund guy in one of his pre-med courses. Jared got high marks in class, was always on time, asked thoughtful questions and seemed astute and eloquent. But when Britton accepted Jared’s Facebook request and looked through Jared’s page, he found lots of rambling posts filled with crass, sexist jokes and complaints about life. That would not do – an Alpha man carried himself with dignity and fixed his own problems instead of complaining about them. So Jared was out. A little nectar wasn’t going to change a sense of entitlement or a victim complex. At least, Britton was pretty sure it wouldn’t. He and his fellow pledges had slightly different personalities now than before they had joined, but the changes were so minute that it was impossible to tell if they were because of the nectar, or simply due to maturity. Once Jared was eliminated from contention, Britton honed his requirements a little. He didn’t want someone with a woe-is-me attitude. His search became like a fun game for him, although once, when he caught himself tailing a particularly unfortunate-looking guy hoping to somehow suss out his name, he thought he might be crossing the line from recruiting to stalking. After that, Britton resolved to give himself a day or two in hopes that the perfect prospect might just fall into his lap. It happened within hours. Britton was killing time at the Academic Achievement Center, absently flexing his chest to watch the button over it strain, then relax, strain, relax. His last two shifts had yielded no math students. Today, he hoped, would be different. “Britton?” “Yeah?” Caught in mid-flex with his chest puffed out, Britton swiveled his chair around to face his coordinator. “I have Alex here for you.” “Cool, thanks.” Britton stood up, smoothed out his uniform Oxford shirt, and watched as a short, frail-looking boy came around the corner. “Alex?” “Alex Carmichael, yeah,” the smaller guy said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, man, I’m Britton Waverley.” “Britton?” “Like the country. Have a seat, have a seat.” Britton extended his palm to the open chair across his desk, and Alex plopped down. Britton sized him up, which didn’t take long. He was a small man, probably 5’5” or around there, and couldn’t be more than 140 pounds. His face was hairless and free from blemishes, but bore some acne scarring. Alex’s facial structure was the polar opposite to his new tutor’s, which was so pronounced, it looked like he had extra bones which weren't allotted to normal folks. Britton’s jawline was a perfect diamond-sharp square; Alex’s was a smooth, round sag of flesh that had no angle to hold up the skin. It gave Alex a vague double-chin, even though he had next to no body fat. Alex’s shoulders weren’t even wide enough to fill his shirt, and the sleeves hung down too low because of this absence. Although only one grade apart, Britton looked almost ten years older than Alex. “Let me just pull up your academic file here,” Britton said in his cheerful baritone, as his muscular fingers clattered against the keyboard. His brow furrowed. “I’m not finding you. You said Carmichael, right? Is that with a ‘C’?” “It’s probably under Cooper,” Alex said as he pulled a large three-ring binder out of his backpack. “Alexander Cooper?” “No, uh, Cooper is my first name. Alex is my middle.” Alex missed Britton’s eyes flashing excitedly. “Your name is Cooper Carmichael? That’s a cool name, bro. Why don’t you go by it?” Alex shrugged. “I dunno, I’ve always just been Alex. Cooper doesn’t really fit me. My mom named me it because she wanted people to think I was rich,” he said with a laugh, and Britton returned a smile. “I’ve just always felt like an Alex. You look more like a Cooper Carmichael than I do.” Britton had to stop himself from smiling like the Grinch. “Now why do you say that?” “I dunno,” Alex said with another shrug, a gesture Britton could tell Alex made often. Clearly, Alex actually did know, but just didn’t want to verbalize it. “I’m just a regular dude, and Alex is a regular dude name.” “Cooooper Alexanderrrr,” Britton said, putting on a haughty accent he’d heard on his father’s associates, “is not a regular dude name. Trust me, I would know. My parents named me after the country I was conceived in.” Alex chuckled. “Well, maybe I’ll live up to it someday. I dunno.” Shrug. “It’s very Vineyard Vines.” Alex quickly looked at Britton’s shirt to make sure it wasn’t the brand he had just insulted. “No offense or anything.” “None taken. I’m more of a Ralph Lauren man. It says here your major is undecided?” “Yeah, I'm not quite sure what I want to do with my life yet. I have time.” “True,” Britton nodded. “Ever play any sports?” Alex smiled wryly. He didn’t look down, though, and Britton liked that. “No.” He didn’t make any excuses. Britton liked that, too. Britton could press that issue later. “Alright, Alex,” he said, leaning forward, pecs resting on top of his desk. “What do you need help with today?” -------- “Dude, we’re playing football in the quad, you wanna come?” Britton turned around and looked at Kip in his maroon tank and Alpha running shorts. Kip, Britton always thought. Couldn’t have a frattier name if he tried. “No, man, I’m doing some research on my big pledge.” “Are yoouuu?” Kip whispered, grinning. “Well, I look forward to hearing your briefing.” “I look forward to giving it.” Britton swiveled to face his laptop screen. He was going through Alex’s Facebook profile pictures – the public ones – and Googling him. There wasn’t a lot about Alex in his hometown paper. Most searches just pulled up the usual honor roll placements, which were high. Britton found an article about the Boys & Girls Club in which Alex was quoted. “It’s really nice to have a place to go,” Alex had said in seventh grade, “because my mom works a lot and isn’t home.” There was never any mention of a dad, not even in the high school graduation announcement. “C. Alex Carmichael, son of Lori Williams, 3.98 GPA.” Britton leaned back in his chair and rested the back of his head in his palms as he stared up at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna call him Coop,” he smiled. -------- At Starbucks, Alex ordered his usual latte from the cute brunette behind the counter, then shuffled away to pick up his drink. He felt oddly nervous as he took a seat at a small table and waited for Britton to arrive. It would be an understatement to say that Alex was shocked to get a phone call from his math tutor Britton, asking if they could meet for coffee. Besides his mom, Alex never got phone calls from anyone. He was so self-conscious about the fact that he was going to be seen in public with one of the biggest men on campus (by reputation and by muscle mass) that he even put on a dress shirt and the only tie he owned. Alex immediately felt laughably overdressed when Britton casually strolled into the shop in a white polo with three Alpha symbols on the left breast, olive drab shorts and leather sandals. Britton deposited himself in the chair opposite Alex and quickly put him at ease with a friendly smile. After a volley of polite "heys", Britton wasted no time getting to his pitch. He spoke in hushed tones. "How would you like to become an Alpha?" Alex laughed reflexively, spewing latte foam across the tabletop. "Sorry about that, but I don't think I'm quite Alpha material." "Well, I'm in charge of recruitment and I think you are." "I've seen you guys around campus and I am not an Alpha. What is it, you need a token nerd to meet some diversity quota or something?" Britton leaned forward on the table and spoke softly so he wouldn't be overheard. "The Alphas stand for excellence. I've reviewed your records. You're a hard worker and, aside from a little shakiness in calculus that your tutor is helping you with, a high achiever. I think you could only benefit from what the Alphas could provide you, and we would all be richer from having you join us." The thought of joining a frat had never even entered Alex's mind, but Britton was so earnest, he agreed that he would at least drop by the frat for a tour someday. Britton said, "Let's go there now." -------- For Alex, setting foot in the Alpha House was a bit like Gulliver arriving in Brobdingnag, the home of giants. Every guy here was at least eight inches taller than him and built like they had been doing bench presses since kindergarten. Alex felt like he belonged to a different species than these exemplars of physical perfection. They certainly didn't conform to all of his worst preconceptions. Alex had anticipated a ramshackle old building full of booze-soaked fratboys up to zany shenanigans, but throughout the stately building with its dark wood walls and well-maintained fireplaces, the Alphas were either studying, preparing the evening meal or working out in the fully equipped gym. Alex looked at one Alpha curled up on a couch, reading his textbook and taking notes. He looked earnest, with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. This, Alex assumed, was what the Alphas thought a nerd was. A guy who wore glasses. It didn’t matter that this “nerd” had a bicep about five times thicker than his generously-sized textbook, or that radiant grass-green eyes stared through his lenses. Sure, his glass frames were on his nose, but they also had to rest on cliff-like cheekbones. On the second floor, Britton rapped on the door of the Alphas' president, Kip, who opened the door wearing only sweatpants and deck shoes. Kip extended his hand, which enveloped Alex's slender hand and shook it vigorously. "Nice to meet you. Come on in. Britton can't shut up about you." Behind Alex's back, Kip shot a glance at Britton which eloquently conveyed the sentiment, "This guy? You gotta be fucking kidding me." Britton merely smiled back with confidence. Alex took a seat on a wooden chair and Kip sat with perfect posture in a leather chair opposite him, somehow seeming formal and businesslike despite his almost non-existent wardrobe. Alex followed his example, sitting straight up and adjusting his tie. "Britton has filled me in on your background, your GPA, your extra-curriculars. It's all very impressive. But there's more to life than school, and the Alphas are, as much as anything, a social organization. How well do you think you would fit in with the other guys?" Alex's shoulders slumped in his roomy Oxford shirt. "Honestly? Like a platypus in a cage full of saber-toothed tigers." Kip laughed. He could already tell why Britton liked the kid, but he still didn't see Alpha potential. His eyes roved across Alex's unremarkable face and flimsy body. Finally, more out of scientific curiosity than anything else, Kip looked to Britton. "Why don't you get our friend here a drink?" Britton was surprised to get the request so quickly. Alex shifted uneasily in his chair and cringed. "Actually, I don't drink booze. It gives me migraines." "Oh, this isn't booze," Britton said reassuringly as he poured the elixir from a crystal pitcher. "It's a special concoction, exclusive to the Alphas. I think you'll like it." Kip added, "You should especially like the hangover." Britton handed Alex a goblet full of a thick amber substance. Alex sniffed it to make sure they weren't trying to haze him by making him drink rubber cement, but discovered that the scent was actually very pleasant. His dick hardened in his pants, and his heart began to race. “What is this stuff?” “Take a sip and see.” “I’m not sure if I should…” Alex hadn’t expected to have to make a choice this quickly, and he began to visibly tremble. His leg bobbed nervously and he tried to keep still. “Alex,” Kip said, “this is a gentleman’s fraternity. We’re not going to serve you anything repulsive. You’re our guest. We want you to join us, remember?” “That’s true,” Alex conceded. He took an experimental sip and nearly came in his pants. “Oh my god…” "Go ahead, chug it," Kip encouraged him, leaning forward with intense curiosity about what the nectar would do when administered to such an undeveloped specimen. As Alex took another sip, Britton leaned down and whispered into Kip's ear, "Shouldn't we get him to undress? He's going to ruin his clothes." Kip muttered back, "If this works like you're hoping, those clothes won't fit him any more anyway. How much did you give him?” “One regular serving as an experiment. We’ll see how far it takes him, then he can decide for himself.” Alex was already becoming calmer as the nectar slid across his tongue and down his throat. The feeling was intoxicating. The more he drank, the more he wanted to drink. His skin began to feel like a warm cocoon, perspiration gushing from every pore. His muscles were beginning to feel like...well, like muscles, growing and shifting upon his rickety frame. He loosened his necktie to keep it from choking him. A gloomy fog was lifting from Alex's brain, replaced by a feeling of clarity, as if he was suddenly seeing the world as full of opportunities instead of obstacles. His leg stopped bouncing and he sat calmly, feeling content and satisfied with his beverage, and yet still uneasy with the situation. From Kip and Britton’s perspective, Alex’s changes were subtle, but numerous. His hair gained a new luster and began to shine in the light beaming through the window. His jaw looked a little more square and a lot firmer, and a bump on the right side of his nose straightened itself out with a soft crunch. Slowly, his shoulders rose up and squared off, filling in his shirt like they were supposed to. Soon, the garment was a little snug on him. New, small biceps pushed against the sleeves and pulled up his cuffs too high. He yanked off his tie completely and began to unbutton the sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his widening chest. He struggled to extricate himself from his constricting shirtsleeves, finally tearing them to shreds as the pressure became unbearable. “Britton?!” Alex squeaked out as he stared down at his expanding body. “What have you done to me?!” Kip and Britton didn’t answer, but Alex heard Kip whisper, “How much do you think he’s gained?” Britton whispered back, “I’d estimate forty.” The goblet clattered on the floor as Alex launched to his feet, inspecting all his changes. It took him a few moments to gather himself and realize that the throbbing in his body had stopped and he was done changing. He hadn’t grown in height, but his muscles and facial features were more masculine now, as if he’d been working out and taking testosterone supplements for the last year. He was not nearly spectacular enough to be a true Alpha, not yet, but the change was already dramatic. “What did you guys...” Alex’s voice hadn’t dropped in pitch, but had gained a rich timbre that had been absent before. He clutched his thicker neck as he continued speaking. “What did you guys do to me?!” “That was the nectar of the Gods, Alex,” Kip said, completely serious. “The nectar of the…” Alex sat back down and put his head in his hands. His fingers rested in his hair, and the light hit it just right to reveal that he had blond roots poking out of his scalp. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” “You just took the first step on a journey,” Britton said, in an effort to reassure Alex. “We all drink the nectar in our initiation ritual. It’s the agent that bonds us and helps make us who we are. Think of this as a booster shot to help you on your way, since you didn’t have all of the benefits that men like Kip had growing up.” “What the hell,” Alex breathed, looking at his chest, which his shirt hugged tightly. He’d never even had a chest before – nothing more than a flat board. Britton said. “I’m giving you 24 hours to decide if you want to complete your initiation. If you do, your life as you know it will completely change. Your body will transform. You may even develop new tastes, new interests and new personality traits. We’ve never given more than one dose of nectar before.” “Oh great, I’m a guinea pig,” Alex said. “What if it kills me?” “It won’t kill you,” Kip said reassuringly, although he honestly had no clue what giving more nectar would do to a non-Alpha. “We can't be sure how dramatically you'll change. The nectar can be mercurial. However, your resilience to this first dose is impressive.” Britton said encouragingly. Kip smiled wryly. “Britton blacked out when he drank his dose, you know.” Alex’s wide eyes had flecks of blue that hadn’t been there when he walked into the building. “I’m going to think about it. Can I talk to my mom about it?” “No. And if you attempt to, the nectar will mute you and garble your words," Kip said in an ominous tone. "Be back here at the same time tomorrow with your decision. But fair warning, the ritual is not for the faint of heart," Britton said. Alex gulped. “Can I at least get a change of clothes to walk back to my dorm? Please?” “Of course,” Britton said, gesturing. “Follow me.” ------- Alex wasn't sure what was making him more aroused: the startling changes to his body or the fact that he was wearing some of the Alphas' fashionable hand-me-downs. The purple polo with the popped collar was a size or two too large, and they needed to punch a new hole in his belt to hold up the baggy chinos he'd been given. Even so, he had never looked so stylish. He couldn't resist checking his reflection in every window he passed. Compared to the Alphas, he was still a skinny runt, but compared to who he was when he woke up this morning, he was the friggin' Hulk. When he entered his dorm, Alex figured his changes would draw immediate attention, but since his dorm mates had never noticed him much in the first place, they weren't likely to realize how much he had changed. He snaked his way toward his room, keeping his head down as always, trying not to interfere with the Nerf football game that seemed to be in progress 24/7 in the hallway. He unlocked his room and discovered his roommate Roach on his bed, his arms wrapped tight around his girlfriend Rachel and his hands firmly gripping a bong. Roach's real name was Rich, but he'd earned his nickname honestly due to his prodigious consumption of marijuana. Roach stared through bleary pink eyes as his roommate crossed to his own bed. "Hey, you get a haircut or something?" Alex turned to Roach and said, "Or something, yeah." Roach nodded and his attention drifted. That was the typical length of any conversation with Roach. Rachel kept staring at Alex and smiled. "It looks cute." "Thanks," said Alex, blushing immediately. It may have been the first compliment he'd ever received from a female who was not his mother. As Roach and Rachel returned their attention to each other and their pipe, Alex grabbed a bathrobe, toothbrush and toothpaste and walked down to the community bathroom. There, he got his first chance to do a complete inspection of all the ways he had changed. His face seemed largely the same, only refined, as if a talented sculptor had chiseled away the less flattering features. Unless the fluorescent lights in here were playing tricks on him, his hair seemed to have taken on a golden glow and his hazel eyes had a slight blue tinge. Even the scars from his zits seemed to have smoothed out somewhat. Pulling the borrowed polo over his head, he marveled at the muscles that now gave his body some actual heft. He was still slim, along the lines of a long-distance runner, but a far cry from his former skeletal self. He couldn't help but wonder what was really in that so-called "nectar" and whether he should be worried about imbibing something that could generate such immediate changes to his body. He decided to go to the free clinic tomorrow and get his blood tested, to make sure he hadn't been slipped something toxic. Alex returned to his room, where Roach and Rachel had dozed off. Alex removed the bong from Roach's hand to prevent the pungent water from spilling onto the carpet. Alex slipped into bed, wearing only boxers and a white tee that Britton and Kip had given him. Alex chuckled at the notion that he even knew people whose names were "Britton" and "Kip". Then again, he had a roommate named "Roach", so having friends with preppy names would definitely be a step up. And that elegant Alpha House sure was a far more appealing place to live than the cinder-block prison cells of his uninspiring dormitory. Too bad he couldn't imagine ever living up to the demanding standards of the Alphas. He drifted to sleep, absent-mindedly pushing up the bottom of his t-shirt and brushing his fingertips across the faint beginnings of ab muscles. All night he dreamt of being in ancient Greece, watching the Olympics and listening to orations by some of the great names of history. Plato, Aristotle...and was there a Kip? -------- Alex woke in the morning, energized and clear-headed. His first glance in the mirror took him by surprise, as the events at Alpha House seemed like they had been part of his odd Greek dreams. His hair looked even blonder as beams of sunlight caught it through the window, and his cheeks were coated with a slight amount of stubble which his baby face had never previously been able to grow. He quickly pulled on his borrowed clothes and rushed to Starbucks. While waiting, he saw a tall, handsome jock enter and edge his way subtly into the front of the line with his buddies rather than taking his proper place at the end of the queue. "End of the line's back here," Alex heard someone say in a firm confident voice, becoming aware as the words rolled out that they were actually coming from his own mouth. He could feel the rest of the line collectively inhale as the jock pivoted slowly. Alex's eyes darted about, as if he too were looking for the dimwit who unwisely said those words. The jock zeroed in on Alex and walked toward him. His eyes glared down darkly from their perch a foot above Alex's. "You got something to say to me, shorty?" Alex felt an instinct to cower and cringe, but a comfortable feeling spread through his body as he realized he was in the right, goddammit. "You got a problem with taking your turn like the rest of us ordinary humans? Or are you just an entitled prick?" Alex honestly didn't know where this was coming from, but he was warming to it. He stood to his full height, such as it was, and squared his meager shoulders in defiance. The tall guy looked at him disdainfully, but then noticed other eyes in the shop glancing at him to see what he would do next. If he continued to argue or raised a hand in anger to this little guy, he knew that he WOULD look like an entitled prick, and a bully on top of it. He decided to laugh it off and swaggered to the end of the line as if he had won something. When Alex reached the front of the line and ordered his latte, the cute brunette barista refused to take his money. She whispered with a grin, "That a-hole Devin comes in here every day and does that. You're the first person who was ever brave enough to tell him off." Alex shrugged sheepishly, noticing the name "Jennifer" on her nametag, then looked up and got sucked in by her deep brown eyes. He had no idea what to say to her. Jennifer noticed the restlessness of the waiting customers and whispered to Alex, smiling sweetly, "You better step aside, you entitled prick." Alex moved along and got his coffee, with his name and a heart written on the side, and another heart shape formed in the foam. As he walked to the exit, he raised his cup victoriously at the jock, who was still steaming at the rear of the line. Alex didn't notice the front door swinging toward his face, but his reflexes kicked in at the last second and he managed not to spill a drop. Throughout the day, Alex felt a growing sense of well-being and self-worth. Problems that had previously baffled him in calculus class were now easier to work through. He felt much more fluent in first-semester French and actually raised his hand twice to offer opinions in his American Literature class. On top of that, he could swear that women were looking at him more than ever, although maybe he just noticed them because he was actually holding his head up more confidently today, rather than slumping and staring at his notebook. On his way out of Lit, Alex felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around to discover Jennifer, the cute barista from that morning, grinning down at him, making both of them acutely aware that she was a good three inches taller than him. "Hey, you. I never noticed you were in my Lit class," she said, playfully punching him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm not surprised. There's not much to notice," Alex said, more to his shoes than to her face. He peered up at her through hanging bangs, realizing she was more pretty than cute. "I thought what you said in there about 'The Great Gatsby' was really insightful. You must be a big reader." Alex shrugged. "No bigger than most. I guess I just felt inspired today." Jennifer shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, waiting for Alex to say something. When he didn't, she said, "Maybe we could study together sometime." Alex found this suggestion astounding. "Uh, yeah, sure. Or maybe we could get together and grab a..." "Please don't say coffee," she laughed. "I used to love coffee until I got that job. Now I can't stand the smell of it." "Okay, no coffee." Alex felt his face rising, his eyes connecting with hers. He might have to upgrade his categorization of her to "beautiful". She asked for his number, which she typed into her phone. "And your name is... Alex, right?" Her lopsided grin made Alex's chest feel tight. "Yeah, wow, I'm amazed you remembered." "Well, it helps that you say the same name every day." "I suppose. And you," Alex said with certainty, "are Jennifer. I noticed it on your..." He attempted to point to where she usually wore her nametag and accidentally poked a finger into her left breast. Alex turned crimson with embarrassment and lowered his head, but Jennifer merely stifled a chuckle. Still too flustered to look Jennifer in the eye, Alex felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and discovered a text from Jennifer. It read: "I like your eyes, Alex." He looked up and saw her smiling brightly. Jennifer noticed the time. "Oh, crap, I gotta get back to work for my afternoon shift. Promise you'll text me, okay?" With a grin, she turned and dashed down the hall. Alex's eyes stayed riveted to her long tan legs until she disappeared around the corner. No way would a girl like that want to date a shrimp like me, thought Alex. Today was just getting weirder and weirder. Crossing the campus, Alex heard someone bellow, "Hey, you little asshole!" Without even looking, he knew it was Devin, his nemesis from the coffee shop. Alex kept walking, eyes straight ahead, acting as if he hadn't heard a thing. He felt the pounding of sneaker-clad feet on the cement behind him, which slowed as an absurdly long shadow stretched down the sidewalk beside him. A monumental hand tapped on his shoulder, then wrapped around Alex's still spindly forearm and yanked him between two brick buildings. Alex noticed that the jock was now wearing sweatpants and what looked like an official basketball jersey. Could this dick actually be on the varsity basketball team? Devin bent down, nose-to-nose with Alex, his spittle flying from his lips as he spoke. "Listen, you little shit. I don't ever want to look like an idiot again." Once again, words emerged unexpectedly from Alex's mouth. "That's kinda up to you, isn't it? I can't really be blamed for your idiocy." Alex tried to take the edge off with a belated "just kidding" grin, but Devin had already placed a strong hand on Alex's right shoulder to hold him in place. He pulled his right arm back and pounded it into Alex's left temple. Alex was dazed, but began to thrash at his assailant erratically, his stumpy arms flailing in the air, unable to make contact. Devin dismissively shoved Alex backwards into a thorny hedge and sauntered away, satisfied that he had gotten his revenge. When Alex straggled into the campus free clinic, the bump around his left eye was already inflating and deepening to purple. His face and arms were scratched and bloody from the hedge, with many snags in his borrowed polo shirt. As he walked to check in, he felt yet another tap on his shoulder and turned around warily, unsure what to expect this time. There stood Britton, on one of his three hours of weekly volunteer work at the clinic. "Jesus, man, what happened to you?" Britton asked. "Some giant prick punched me out, and it's all your fault." Britton pulled Alex over to a plastic chair and sat beside him, speaking softly. "How is this my fault?" "That shit you gave me last night," Alex whispered. "I want to get a blood test to find out what it's doing to me. It made me act all weird today." "Weird how?" "Like weird...ly confident." Britton smiled. "Don't you like feeling confident?" "Not as much as I dislike getting my ass whooped." Britton pulled some strings to get Alex seen next. His black eye was bandaged, his scratches daubed, his blood sample taken. Enough of the Alphas were on the football team and underwent regular drug testing that Britton was confident the nectar would not show up as a foreign substance in Alex's blood test. Britton waited beside Alex while the blood sample was evaluated. As they waited in silence, Alex's phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw that Jennifer had sent him a photo. She had drawn a revolver on a Starbucks cup and was holding it next to her head with a "please kill me" expression on her face, her tongue hanging dopily out of her mouth. Alex chuckled and Britton glanced down to check out the picture. "She's cute," Britton said. "Your girlfriend?" Alex snorted. "Yeah, right." Despite the changes he had undergone last night, he still acutely felt the difference between himself and the Platonic ideal of manliness seated beside him. Jennifer deserved better than Alex. She deserved an Alpha. She deserved a Cooper. A doctor emerged from the lab with the results of Alex's blood test. Alex waited nervously, but was relieved to hear that everything looked fine. "Better than fine, I'd say," the doctor said. "Ideal." -------- When Britton's shift ended, he and Alex walked out of the clinic. "You wanna go get a pizza or something?" he asked Alex. "Actually," said Alex, "you got any more of that nectar?" Britton raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch. “You’ve got a few more hours, buckaroo.” “No one under the age of seventy uses that word,” Alex snarked. Britton stopped dead in his tracks. “How did you know?” Alex turned around, suddenly nervous. “Know what?” “How did you know I’m ninety-two years old? Shit, did ‘buckaroo’ really give it away?” Alex looked for a hint of sarcasm, but Britton’s expression was completely genuine. “Alex, I haven’t told you everything. That nectar is more powerful than you could possibly imagine. I’ve been an Alpha for more than seventy years.” Alex took two steps backward. The blood drained from his face, and even his black eye looked paler. “Wha-what?” Britton’s voice was an eerie whisper. “And I’m the youngest Alpha. Kip is more than two hundred years old. Hell, we have one guy who fought in the Civil War. For the Union, don’t worry.” “Jesus Christ…” Alex had a far-away look as he contemplated this stunning new information. Britton stood still for a moment, then exploded with laughter. “Your face! You shoulda seen your FACE!” He doubled over and put his hands on his knees, laughing to the point of tears. “Oh MAN, that was good. I totally had you!” “Asshole!” Alex stomped his foot petulantly. “C’mon, man, today’s already been confusing enough for me! With everything you’ve thrown at me already, immortality didn’t seem that weird.” Britton was still wiping tears from his eyes. “Whooo, I should do that more often.” Alex eyed the gleaming timepiece on Britton’s wrist. “How much did that watch cost, ya jerk?” “An Alpha would never ask such a question, it’s unbecoming,” Britton scolded, half-sincere. “But to be honest, I actually don’t know. It was a gift from my parents for high school graduation.” “Your parents got you a Rolex for your high school graduation?”, Alex grumbled. “My mom took me to Applebee’s.” “Hey.” Britton took a large step and put himself in Alex’s path, stopping them both. Britton’s jaw locked and he squared his shoulders. It emphasized how much bigger than Alex he was. “I don’t want to hear any more of that, you understand?” “What?” Alex leaned back, surprised. “Jealousy. Jealousy is bullshit. It fucks with your head and ruins friendships. I’ve dealt with it before, from both sides, and it’s painful, and it’s sad. Don’t let it in. Don’t let it mess with you.” “I’m sorry,” said Alex, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “I was just kidding.” “I know you were, but I saw a seed of something, and I’m stamping it out right now. Once we go inside that house, you’re going to change. You’re going to change a lot. Not even I know how radical it’s going to be. And if all parts of you get magnified, that’s one thing that shouldn’t be.” Alex felt embarrassed, and he didn’t like being scolded by a person he now considered a friend and, he hoped, a peer. But he did understand Britton’s point. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I appreciate that.” “You’re welcome, buddy.” Britton moved back next to Alex and they started walking again. “The Alphas have to keep each other in check. I expect you to do the same for me one day. That’s what brotherhood is all about.” “I never had a brother.” “Well, looks like you’re stuck with one now.” They walked a block and took a right. It was only when they rounded the corner that Alex realized they were en route to the Alpha house. His heart began to race. It was really happening. “So,” said Britton, “what made your mind up?” “I don’t think it was one thing. It was a lot of things,” Alex mused. “I just felt like if I say 'no' now, I'd go the rest of my life wondering "what if?", while I watched you become a Senator or win a Nobel Prize or whatever.” He sighed. “I know it’s not something to take lightly, but I think this is really the only choice. A man should do his best to be a success in all things, and now that I have this option…why would I turn it down?” Britton nodded. “I thought you were going to say because of the Starbucks hottie on your phone.” “Her too,” Alex smiled boyishly. “A girl like that has never given me the time of day before.” “Isn’t that funny?” Britton said. “You don’t even look THAT different yet. It must just have been the way you carried yourself that made her take notice of you.” “You’re super inspiring today, man. You’re a preppy male Oprah.” “Thanks, I try.” They walked into the yard of the Alpha house and up the steps. “Are you nervous?” “Yes.” Just the question made Alex even more twitchy. He could hear the implication in Britton’s question: you should be nervous. They opened the front door and walked in. Britton checked his hair in a mirror on the wall. “I’m going to go get Kip. You can just hang out here for a little bit.” He bounded up the stairs two at a time and went around the corner. Alex heard him knock on Kip’s door, but after that, silence. Alex looked at the grand front hall of the Alpha house. It was painstakingly maintained, with ornate carvings in the wood and a beautiful chandelier. This place was pure opulence, like something out of a movie. Alex tried to keep himself calm, but he was growing more scared by the moment. Scared of what he was doing, scared of what he could become, scared of the unknown. He thought about sprinting through the door and never coming back. Part of him said running away would be a good idea, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He looked at pictures of Alpha classes throughout the years. Each year’s portrait was like a model convention. All the brothers had perfect faces, smiles, hair, bodies. Broad shoulders lined up in rows, clad in the clothes of the era. Alex was amazed that the Alpha men of the 1920s looked just as handsome and buff as the brothers now. The men in the more recent photos were huge and handsome, but at least bodybuilding wasn't uncommon these days. A hundred years ago, though, the Alphas must have been seen as genuine freaks of nature. A brother walked through the main hallway, wearing nothing but Alpha-emblazoned sweat shorts that clung to his thighs. Alex reached out to get his attention. “’Scuse me?” The guy looked up. He looked like a GQ model. “Yeah?” Alex was tongue-tied. “Uh, I, uh…where’s the bathroom?” “There’s one down that hall,” the guy motioned, flicking his head to move a lock of glossy hair off his forehead. “Thanks.” Alex tried to lock the guy’s face in his mind. They were going to be frat brothers. He couldn’t believe it. Alex’s stomach was in knots. It was a single bathroom, no stall, so he locked the door and looked at the toilet. Then he lurched forward, fell onto his knees and vomited into it. His hands gripped the toilet seat and made it shake. He barely got his mouth wiped before he heard a rap on the door. “Alex?” Britton said through the door. “That you in there?” Alex gulped so he could talk. “Uh-huh.” “Are you throwing up?” Too long of a pause. “No.” “Yes, you are, man, I heard you. Let me in.” Alex shuffled over to the door and sheepishly unlocked it. On the other side stood Britton, and behind him, Kip, in a beautiful shirt and tie. “I’m fine,” Alex maintained. “Really? ‘Cause you have vomit on your face.” Alex quickly walked to the sink and washed his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said once more. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this today,” Kip said. His lip curled when he looked at Alex and saw the black eye and scratches. “What the hell happened to you? Britton, he looks like hell.” “No, please, I want to do it. I want to do it now. I’m just scared, okay? I’m really scared, but I know it’s what I want to do.” Britton and Kip exchanged looks, and everything was quiet for a moment. “You’re the president,” Britton finally said to Kip. Kip stood still, then nodded and tightened his lips together. “Alright, then, it’s time.” Alex exhaled and followed the two bigger men down the steps to the basement. He expected it to be unfinished with a concrete floor, but it was far from it – even more outrageously opulent than the front hall, in fact. The walls were red, the floor was marble, and everything was covered in gold leafing. “I feel like I’m in a Kanye West video. Are you guys Illuminati?” Neither Britton nor Kip answered, and Alex knew that was his cue to cut the snark. He didn’t say another word. They arrived at a large gold circle in the floor and Kip pointed for Alex to stay where he was. “Disrobe.” “Wh-what?” “Take your clothes off.” “All of them?” Britton nodded. “Underwear too.” Alex pulled his shirt over his head, because that was the easy one. Being shirtless wasn’t weird. It was like going to the beach. But when he unbuttoned his pants, he wanted to throw up again. He tried to imagine he was back in the locker room after gym class. He hated gym class. Alex shut his eyes and pushed his underwear down, and his dick bobbed out for the world to see. After he tossed all his clothes into a pile nearby, he cupped his hands over his genitals and looked up. Britton and Kip weren’t there. Alex kneeled down, assuming that was what he was supposed to do. He wished he had other recruits around him to make him feel less alone. Having an initiation by oneself was a painfully conspicuous position to be in. Britton and Kip walked back into view – at least, Alex assumed it was Britton and Kip. They were wearing red robes that hid their faces, and they’d both either rolled up their pants or taken them off, because all Alex could see was bare ankles and sandals below the hem of their robes. One of them – Alex assumed it was Kip - was holding a crystal bowl filled with the sacred nectar. As soon as he locked eyes on it, Alex couldn’t look away. He was shaking like a leaf, but his mouth was watering. The other red robe, presumably Britton, had a glass ladle that he dipped into the bowl and brought carefully over to Alex, who was pale with fear and excitement. No one in the room missed his erection. He felt shame that he was probably the least-hung male to ever set foot in these hallowed chambers. The ladle was lifted to Alex’s mouth and the scent of the nectar twirled up and around inside his nostrils, nearly knocking him out with its thorny beauty. His lips trembled violently and he had the full-body shivers. The ladle hooked inside his upper lip and and pulled up, forcing Alex to tip his head back. His mouth dropped open and the nectar poured down his throat. Two droplets spilled down the sides of his mouth, and he quickly got them with his thumb, which he stuck into his mouth and sucked. He didn’t want to miss a single drop. Alex had told himself pre-drink that he just needed to remember to breathe and it would all be fine. But suddenly, he didn’t have any breath at all. It felt like something punched him in the lungs and pushed out every ounce of breath. His teeth smashed together so tightly that he was lucky his tongue wasn’t in the way of them. He doubled over and fell onto his hands with a loud cry, body convulsing until he had rolled up into a ball on the floor, with two tears coming out of each eye. “It hurts! Oh, JESUS.” He felt like he was on a medieval rack and it was stretching him. He could hear his spine popping and his joints cracking as they were reset. It hurt like hell. He heard a soft “Alex?” and looked up to see Britton lowering his hood, looking terribly concerned. He’d gotten them mixed up – Britton had been holding the bowl, and Kip had administered the ladle. Kip took his hood off too and he and Britton both knelt next to Alex, laying a comforting hand on him. It was definitely a deviation from the standard ritual, but Kip didn’t want someone to die unattended in the basement under his watch either. Fearing that the nectar may have proved too much for Alex to handle, Britton pulled out his cell phone and dialed "9-1", holding his breath and watching closely. If he saw the agony becoming too great for Alex to bear, Britton was prepared to dial the final "1" and get the paramedics over here. He knew that would risk exposing the Alphas' rites to public scrutiny, but he felt responsible for Alex's safety above all else. Alex rolled onto his back and threw his hands over his head, which allowed his rib cage to open up wider so that he could suck in some air. His eyes were buggy and his mouth went as wide as it could go, and with a desperate, guttural noise, he inhaled as much oxygen as he could. He clutched his temples as the nectar seemed to be rewiring his brain, giving him a new sense of clarity. His head rolled back until it pushed him off the floor in a neck bridge, and two small pecs burst out of the front of his frame. Alex’s eyes darted down and looked at them as they swelled a little bigger. His whole face lit up in a huge smile and he looked at Britton, who smiled back. Alex’s head was snapped back as a halo of golden curls exploded out from his scalp, growing down messily to his shoulders. He rolled back onto his stomach and curled up as he hit another growth spurt. Accompanied by a crunch like the shattering of a lobster shell, Alex's torso and legs elongated, pushing him over six feet tall. His hands and feet were stretching out to fit his frame, and his back got broader, bigger. Shoulder blades shifted out and his skeleton altered to the mesomorphic ideal that all Alphas had. The painful-sounding noises of the transformation slowly faded out until the basement was silent again, save for Alex’s loud wheezing. He coughed and sputtered, then found the strength to push himself up off the floor, where Britton and Kip were standing to greet him. The first thing Alex noticed was how much further away the floor appeared. He teetered forward, losing his equilibrium, and Britton grabbed him. “Easy there, buddy. You’re a baby giraffe right now.” Britton steadied Alex, who broadened his stance and gradually acclimated to his new center of gravity. Alex flipped his long hair out of his face and looked at Britton, then over at Kip. Both the Alphas started laughing in silence, looking at each other, then back at Alex, then back at each other, their laughter growing louder until their muscular bodies shook. “Holy shit,” Britton finally said. Alex's face had been reconfigured into a sharp and symmetrical arrangement of angles. The shiner he'd sported had been almost healed completely, except for a small patch of purple below his perfectly shaped eyebrow. His cheekbones had moved closer to his eyes and grown out like cliffs, aristocratic and elegant. The same could be said for his nose, now a perfect angle with a square tip. His chin even had a small cleft in it now. “You need a haircut,” Kip said. “I need clothes,” Alex stammered, then clutched his throat. “My voice!” His voice had dropped an octave to a smoky baritone which was a better match for the brawny beast standing naked before Britton and Kip. His muscles were still less pumped than theirs, giving him a leaner and less intimidating look. “How tall am I?” Britton stepped forward and looked eye-to-eye with Alex. "Well, I'm six-three." He glanced at the profusion of Alex's curly blond locks and placed his hand atop Alex's head, pushing downward until he felt Alex's skull. "I'd say we're the same height. You just look taller because of your new 'fro." Alex looked at his shadow which the overhead lights cast on the marble floor and could clearly see how much his hair had blossomed during the transformation. "Hey, look, I got an Alph-ro," he wisecracked and looked back at Britton and Kip, expecting a chuckle at least. He was met with stony stares. Kip spoke solemnly. "Britton, haven't you impressed upon our new friend the dignity and honor we expect of an Alpha? How his words and actions from now on will reflect not just on his own character, but that of all Alphas? How we have gone against years of tradition in order to bring him into our circle?" Britton nodded. "Yes, I have, Mr. President." Placing his hands on Alex's shoulders and staring into the bright blue pools which his eyes had become, Britton said, "The nectar wouldn't have affected you as it has if you were not deserving. Remember, you must always be respectful of and appreciative for the blessings you have been bestowed and behave accordingly. And if you stumble, know that your Alpha brothers will always be there for you to help ensure that you live your life to its fullest potential." Alex stood at his full height, shoulders back, chest forward. "I understand. I promise I won't let you down." Kip nodded back. "Excellent. Now put some clothes on before your boner puts somebody's eye out." Alex looked down, embarrassed to discover that the incredible rush of the transformation had given him an erection -- and stunned by the size of the thing. Of all the radical changes he had undergone, his penis clearly had the greatest growth proportionally. Britton cocked an eyebrow, then clapped Alex on the shoulder. "Well. Apparently the nectar REALLY likes you," he said with a grin. "Let me go grab you some clothes." Britton dashed upstairs, leaving Alex and Kip alone together for the first time. They stood in silence, with Alex painfully aware that Kip was sizing him up skeptically. He figured Kip must still be unsure of Alex's suitability for the Alphas, so he knew he would need to work extra hard to prove his worth. "When do I meet the rest of the guys?", Alex asked. "Tomorrow night, when we bring in all the new pledges. Eight o'clock. Don't be late. The nectar doesn't like to be disappointed." Kip held up the bowl and ladle with the dregs of the nectar, then carried it into an antechamber. Alex stood alone in the room, still in disbelief whenever he saw any part of what was now his body. The room had no mirrors, so checking himself out thoroughly would have to wait. He heard heavy footsteps bounding down the stairs and saw Britton returning with a stack of clothes. "This ought to be enough to get you through the next couple of days. I'll help you shop for a new wardrobe once you've reached your final size." Alex froze. "Final size? THIS isn't my final size?" "Right now, you've reached the level that the rest of the pledges are naturally. You'll meet them tomorrow night at the initiation. We found a good crop this year. You'll fit in nicely." Alex's mind reeled at the thought of growing even larger. Alex pulled on a sleeveless workout shirt, sweatpants and size 14 Pumas for the walk home, with extra clothes in a Hollister bag. He felt like testing out his new muscles and began to jog, which his powerful legs quickly turned into a sprint. He had never felt so exhilarated, with his heart pumping fast and his long blond curls streaming behind him in the breeze. He reached his dorm in no time and wasn't even panting. Stepping off the elevator on his floor, he towered above a group of freshman guys playing hacky-sack in the hallway. Needing to get past them, Alex rumbled, "Excuse me, fellas," in his commanding new voice. The hacky-sackers stepped aside as if responding to a direct order and watched this unfamiliar jock stride down the hall. Alex unlocked his room and peeked around the door, relieved that Roach had already dozed off in bed. Alex did his best not to make noise as he closed the door, but the slight click of the lock was enough to awaken Roach, who screamed at the mammoth shadow looming in the middle of the room. "Who the hell are you???" Alex gestured with his hands, trying to calm down Roach, but wasn't sure how to convince a paranoid stoner that he was actually his meek little roommate who had been transformed into a strapping stud by a secret ancient potion. Actually, thought Alex, a stoner might be the only person who WOULD think that made sense. "Chill, Roach. It's just me, Alex." "Who the fuck is Alex?" asked Roach, his brain a permanent fog. Alex figured this was pointless. "I'm just gonna take a few things with me, okay?" "Shit, dude, grab whatever you want. Just don't hurt me, man!" Alex took a pillow, blanket, toothbrush and toothpaste, then headed into the bathroom. He paused a moment to compose himself before rounding the corner and gazing into the bathroom's full-length mirror, but he still wasn't fully prepared for what he saw. The man staring back at him was astoundingly handsome and powerfully built. He stripped off the sleeveless shirt and admired his physique, nearly forgetting the short-lived but excruciating pain it had taken to achieve these impressive gains. Alex took a step closer to examine the details of his new face. Although he could see no resemblance to who he used to be, it nevertheless felt oddly familiar, as if this were the way he always imagined he SHOULD. His blue eyes were piercing, yet sympathetic. As his fingers explored the sharp new contours of his bone structure, they stroked across abundant bristles on his cheeks that he knew would need to be shaved every day. He tossed his head and laughed at the way his shoulder-length blond hair rearranged itself. He could see why Kip felt he needed a haircut, as he looked more like the singer of an '80s metal band than the preppy ideal of the Alphas, but he thought it made him look dangerous and sexy, two words that had never before been associated with Alex Carmichael. Hearing the door swinging open, Alex quickly abandoned his self-inspection and stepped over to a urinal, uncoiling his new cock from inside his sweatpants. Despite the bathroom being empty, the newcomer walked up to the urinal immediately next to Alex's. Alex glanced down and recognized the kid, another freshman whose height and weight were about what Alex's had been before the nectar came into his life. "How's it goin'?" Alex asked, his resonant new voice echoing off the ceramic tiles. The kid muttered something unintelligible and Alex noticed that the kid's eyes had gravitated over to check out Alex's enormous dick. Grinning mischievously, Alex backed away from the wall several inches in order to give the kid a better look. The kid was overcome with sudden pee-shyness, flushed his urinal and exited the bathroom swiftly. This made Alex feel bad – and gave him a glimpse of just how fearless he was becoming. Not even the thought of strutting across campus stark naked made him nervous. The idea of his beauty being celebrated was so foreign that it felt like a dirty turn-on, a fetish. Alex strolled to the common area by the elevators and pushed two couches together to create a bed for the night. They were uncomfortable and too short for his expanded frame, with his stockinged feet dangling off the end, but it didn't really matter. There was no way Alex could fall asleep tonight. His adrenaline was too high, and his mind was abuzz with thoughts of officially joining the Alphas and moving into their elegant mansion. He kept wondering how he would explain to his mom how her "little Hobbit" had grown so massive. Most of all, he kept feeling his muscles, just making sure they hadn't gone away. -------- At dawn, Alex returned to his room for his backpack and a change of clothes, relieved that Roach was snoring soundly. In the bathroom, he pulled on the new outfit Britton had given him last night and watched himself transform into a preppy, one item of clothing at a time: a crisp white shirt, a striped tie, a cardigan, a pair of white slacks. (Alex doubted he had ever thought of pants as "slacks" until that very moment. He was already thinking like an Alpha.) Slipping his bare feet into tasseled loafers completed the ensemble, with his rock-star locks now looking wildly inappropriate. He brushed the longer strands behind his ears as best as possible. He decided to leave his stubble unshaven for now. After years of lamenting that he couldn't manage even a decent mustache, it felt wrong to chop down this forest of fresh growth. Despite his sleepless night, Alex was refreshed and alert. Still, he knew he'd better get his morning jolt of caffeine or he would be suffering later. It felt strange to be entering the familiar Starbucks in such an altered form, like he was there as an undercover spy. His flesh tingled as he saw Jennifer working the counter. He waited until she looked his direction and waved at her. She nodded, slightly confused, and only then did it hit Alex that she wouldn't have a clue who he was. As he took his place at the back of the line, Devin ducked in. He spotted his friends near the front of the line and was about to join them when he started checking out the other customers cautiously. Alex was amused to realize that Devin was actually scared that the little twerp from yesterday might call him out again for line-cutting. Seeing no twerp in sight, Devin wormed his way in with his friends. Alex had hoped that another customer might be inspired by his behavior from yesterday, but no one spoke up. Alex guessed he would have to handle it himself again. But instead of shouting and calling him names, today Alex felt there must be a subtler, classier way to deal with the interloper. Alex left the end of the line and walked calmly over to Devin, amazed to discover that they were now roughly the same height with approximately the same build. Alex tapped Devin gently on the shoulder and murmured, "Not cool, dude." Devin spun around, ready to say "Fuck off," but when he saw that he was facing someone of impressive stature, he became less confrontational. Shifting into a conspiratorial whisper, he told Alex, "I'm running late, man. I just want to get my coffee and go." Alex wasn't letting him off the hook, speaking softly and continuing to grip Devin's shoulder. "You don't think any of these other people are running late? Why should they let you ahead of them? What makes you so special?" Devin clearly thought he WAS special, but when confronted with Alex's unblinking blue eyes, the guy turned into a two-bit weasel from a black-and-white film, all shifty eyes and shoulder shrugs. How could this happen to him two days in a row? Unfortunately, it wouldn't be so easy to inflict revenge on this big prep. Better to concede defeat. Devin left his friends and walked to the back of the line with Alex, who generously gestured for the jock to go ahead of him. "Please. I know you're running late," Alex said with a smile. Devin nodded his thanks and noticed the faint traces of a bruise around Alex's left eye. "How'd you get the shiner?" "Some asshole punched me," said Alex. "But I know how to deal with him now." Eventually they reached the front of the line, where Jennifer forced a fake smile when she saw Devin's face. She took his order, scrawling his name on a cup. To Alex's surprise, Devin turned to him and asked, "What can I get you?" "Seriously?" "Yeah. My treat. To make up for being such a dick before." Part of Alex wanted to turn him down out of spite, but he didn't want to discourage an act of generosity. Alex smiled at Jennifer and ordered a latte. She barked, "Name?" In the millisecond before "Alex" was about to tumble through his lips, Alex stopped himself. How would he ever explain to Jennifer that he was the same guy she took a liking to yesterday without revealing the secrets of the Alphas? Noticing her impatience, he blurted out "Cooper". And for the first time in his life, he felt like the name fit him. Jennifer wrote something vaguely resembling "Cooper" on the cup and slid it along, then looked at the line and smiled to the next customer. Alex, or rather Cooper, moved toward the "pick-up" location, sad that he had been unable to make a connection with Jennifer. When Devin got his drink, he slapped Cooper on the back and said, "See ya 'round, dude," then ambled out the door and joined his buddies, clearly in no rush despite his claims that he was running late. All morning, Cooper did his best not to draw attention to himself in his classes, sitting in the rear of the classrooms, slumping in his seat, not offering any input. Better to give his teachers a buffer period in which they could totally forget the utterly forgettable Alex Carmichael before acquainting them with the remarkable Cooper A. Carmichael. His plan only worked to a minor degree, as he could feel himself being checked out by the hungry eyes of students (of both genders) and professors (ditto). The only class he was eagerly anticipating was American Lit, as it would offer him a chance to speak to Jennifer. He entered the lecture hall and noticed her immediately. She was checking her makeup in a mirror and was wearing a white silk blouse and a short plaid skirt that showed off her gorgeous legs. It was obvious she had put some effort into looking this good. Oh my god, Cooper thought, did she actually dress up like this...FOR ALEX? If she was that taken with his old wimpy self, she was going to go apeshit for Cooper. Cooper edged his way down Jennifer's row, leaving a gap of two empty seats between them. He leaned back, feigning casualness, relishing the feeling of his powerful arms as they stretched out behind him. With a confidence he could only have dreamt of two days earlier, he glanced over and, as casually as possible, said, "Hey, you're the girl from Starbucks. Jennifer, right?" Jennifer heard the booming voice and glanced over. She responded with a quick nod and said, "Yeah, hi," before turning back to her cell phone. Cooper stared blankly. She didn't seem intimidated by him. She just seemed totally uninterested. He puzzled over what to say next, desperately hoping that tonight's final dose of nectar would improve the part of the brain that regulates small talk. "Hey, how about that 'Great Gatsby', huh?" Jennifer paused her typing, and glanced over. "Yeah, it's a good book," she said flatly, then scanned the rest of the room as more students filtered in. Cooper's brow furrowed. Before he could say anything more, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw he had received a text. From Jennifer. He held the phone so she wouldn't notice it, although she wasn't looking his direction anyway. The message read: ALEX HOPE UR OK. U DIDNT GET COFFEE THIS AM & NOW I DONT SEE U IN CLASS. WISH U WERE HERE TO RESCUE ME. SOME PREPPIE DOUCHEBAG IS HITTING ON ME. HOPE 2 CU SOON. <3<3<3 Cooper lowered the phone, stunned. Why does she think I'm a douchebag?, he wondered. He thought she would be bowled over to attract the interest of someone as spectacular as he was now. He had to find out, but how? Then he realized the answer was right in the palm of his hand. He scrambled to text Jennifer before class began, unaccustomed to typing with his new meaty fingers: SORRY J. BEEN CRAZY BUSY. WHAT MAKES THIS GUY A DOUCHEBAG? Cooper realized it was something of a non-sequitur for Alex to exhibit such curiosity about a stranger's douchebagginess, but he had to know. He saw Jennifer's phone skitter across her desktop as it vibrated. She picked it up and smiled with relief to see that Alex had replied. Her fingers whizzed across the screen. Cooper watched his phone and saw her response pop up: HES BEST BUDS WITH THAT AHOLE DEVIN THAT U TOLD OFF YESTERDAY. WHEN CAN I SEE U? Wow, so just because Devin had bought him a coffee, she assumed he was Devin's friend. Cooper could understand the confusion. He was trying to think of a way for Alex to break it to Jennifer that she would never see him again when the professor entered the room. Cooper barely paid attention to the discussion as he wrestled with how to resolve this romantic triangle in which he was two of the sides. He fidgeted a lot, discovering that the lecture hall's seats were even more uncomfortable for a 6'3" stud than they had been for a 5'7" shrimp. In an awkward seated dance, he shirked off his cardigan, giving Jen an unimpeded view of his bicep coiled up in his tight, thin shirtsleeve. When she didn’t even look over, he brushed his hair back, loosened his tie and popped open his collar, knowing that he must look rakishly gorgeous. When class ended, Cooper trailed after Jennifer, but could only get out the word, "Hey," before she spun around and confronted him. "What is with you?" she demanded. "I saw you looking over at me all through class. Not used to someone not being into you, pretty boy?" Inside his head, Cooper was screaming: SHE THINKS I’M PRETTY! Outwardly, he tried to remain cool. "I just...I like you. You seem really cool. I thought maybe we could go out for...not a coffee sometime." Her knees buckled slightly as he unleashed a toothy grin, but she stood her ground. "That's very flattering, but I'll pass. Okay?" "Is it because of Devin?" he blurted out. She found it a little spooky that he had read her mind like that. Cooper scrambled to make that seem like less of a logical leap. "'Cause I know you saw me with him this morning, but seriously, we are not friends. At all. Today was the second time we’d ever talked. Honestly..." He dropped his voice into a confidential whisper. "He's kind of a d-bag." Jennifer was flustered, feeling more unsettled the longer she talked to this fusion of a Disney Prince and Thor and gazed up at his beautiful blue eyes and his cleft chin and his neck muscles and his perfect... She shook her head, bringing herself back to her senses. "I need to be going." Cooper watched her walk away, mesmerized by the swaying of her hips in that short skirt. Crossing the quad, lost in his thoughts, Cooper heard someone yell, "Hey, Coop! Think fast!" Before he could think anything, a football slammed into his left temple, exactly where he had been punched by Devin the day before. Cooper fell to the ground, the back of his head thwacking the sidewalk. As he lay there dazed, two blurry faces merged into a single image of Devin looking down with concern. "Sorry, bud. I thought you heard me." He offered his hands and helped pull Cooper to his feet. "You alright?" Rather than running to the free clinic in a panic, Cooper discovered how resilient he had become. He shook it off, realizing he felt fine. "Yeah, no problem." "Wanna play? Our team is one short." Cooper attempted to beg off. "I'm not really much of a football guy." "Please? We're getting slaughtered. We need a big guy like you." Cooper found it crazy to be called a "big guy", but he looked at the guys assembled on the quad and realized that he was now the physical equal of -- if not superior to -- all of them. Curious to see whether his body had gained any athletic prowess along with the other changes, Cooper set down his backpack and joined the game. To his delight, he quickly discovered how agile he had become. For someone who had never been known for hand-eye coordination, he was suddenly throwing and catching the football like he had been doing it for years. His brain was even thinking strategically, processing the movements of a dozen bodies at once. With the impromptu game tied, Devin flung the ball to Cooper, who powered his way to the designated end zone with no pursuers even close to him. Devin rushed over and leapt up, wrapping his arms around Cooper's neck and his legs around Cooper's waist. "Not a football guy, my ass!", shouted Devin victoriously. As they fell to the grass, Cooper heard a woman yelling from the distance. "What's this? The Douche Bowl?" Cooper turned his head and saw Jennifer watching from across the quad, her hands cupped around her mouth for amplification. She shook her head and walked the other direction. As Cooper tried to untangle himself from Devin so he could chase after her, Devin noticed Cooper's desperation. "Is that the stuck-up bitch from Starbucks? Don't tell me you're into her." “Uh…” Cooper didn't know what to say. He expected this transformation to change his life, but he hadn't envisioned that he would end up charming Devin and repulsing Jennifer. Devin slapped Cooper’s back. A week ago, this friendly gesture would have knocked Alex down. Today, it didn’t even rattle Cooper. His bulging back muscles absorbed all the impact. “You’re really good. Are you on the team?” “I…I’ve never…” Cooper’s tongue fumbled with the words. He had no idea what to say. He’d always wanted to play football, but he’d never had enough strength to even be the waterboy. “I gotta go.” He grabbed his backpack and headed to Starbucks, ignoring Devin’s “Did I say something wrong?” Cooper had hoped Jennifer would be back for an afternoon shift, but she wasn't working today. He sat at a table, typing and retyping various texts to her from Alex, but nothing seemed right. He composed one that said: JEN I JUST MET THIS AWESOME GUY COOPER. HE'S THE COOLEST GUY EVER. He laughed at how absurd that would be and backspaced it into oblivion. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Coop,” he muttered to himself. Instead, he typed up a text to his mom, trying to lay the groundwork for her acceptance of the new person he was becoming. He told her that he had been befriended by a bunch of cool guys who asked him to join their frat and that they already had him working out and eating healthier. "NEXT TIME YOU SEE ME YOU PROBABLY WON'T RECOGNIZE ME HA HA," he typed, hoping that she’d be ignorant enough about working out to accept that her son had gained about a hundred pounds. And ten inches. And blue eyes. And a new face. When the sky began to darken, he realized he needed to get to Alpha house for the initiation. He dashed across campus, still marveling at the effortless grace of his new body. Running kept him distracted from his growing fear. In truth, he was even more afraid than he’d been the day before. -------- He knocked on the door of Alpha Alpha Alpha and could hear commotion inside. He assumed a kegger was in progress, but when he dared to open the door, he found harried Alphas roaming the house, most on their cell phones in urgent need of information. He ventured past the entry hall and found the other pledges already seated on antique furniture in the den, stripped down to their undershorts and wearing blindfolds and noise-cancelling headphones. It looked like some sort of brainwashing ritual, but they were clearly not listening to anything, because if body language was an indicator, the pledges were bored out of their minds. Britton hadn't been kidding about how Cooper would fit in: you could cast "Magic Mike 2" from this bunch, and none of them had taken a single drop of nectar. Cooper marveled at the flawlessness of their physiques. How did he have peers who looked like this naturally? He was glad he’d been allowed to cheat a little. Make that "a lot". Cooper snagged the arm of one of the Alphas, who he realized was the same devastatingly handsome model-in-the-making he'd spoken to last night. "Is Britton around?" The other guy looked up at Cooper and pointed toward the staircase while continuing his phone conversation. "Okay, well, if you do see him, tell him to call Alpha house immediately." Cooper walked up the stairs, baffled. He noticed that the door to Kip's room was ajar and rapped on it. "Hello?" An eye poked through the open gap. "Oh, cool, it's you," said Britton, swinging the door wide and dragging Cooper inside. He closed and locked the door. Quite obviously, someone had been rifling through all of Kip's belongings. Like the other Alphas, Britton looked uncharacteristically frazzled. "What the hell's going on?" Cooper asked. Britton stared into Cooper's eyes. "Kip is missing. No one has seen him since last night." "What? It's not eight yet, I'm sure he'll show." "He's in charge of the initiation ceremony. We've needed him here all day. Nothing’s ready because there are certain things only our president can do. It's completely unlike him to flake like this.” Britton pulled Cooper close and spoke in a hushed tone. "You're the only one I can tell about this. After you left last night, I think Kip drank the rest of the nectar." Cooper looked concerned. "Why would he need to take more? What would it do to him?" Britton shook his head and shrugged. The expression on his face was grave. He rubbed his temples. “Wait…he drank all of it?” Cooper’s eyes went wide. His first emotion was sympathy for Kip. “That must have hurt so badly. I think you guys would have heard something. He would’ve screamed his head off.” “That fuckin’ prick,” Britton seethed, gritting his teeth together. “Fuckin’ piece of shit prick.” “So what happens if there’s no more nect-“ “I don’t KNOW, okay?!” Britton snapped before regaining his senses. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Listen. I don’t know much about the nectar, but there are a few things I’ve heard. For one thing, it can regenerate. It's not like we have thousands of gallons in a tank underground or anything. It’s just a barrel in the basement and it has never ever run out...until now. We probably – hopefully – aren’t out forever, but I don’t know how long it takes for it to come back. It kind of has a mind of its own.” “The nectar? Has a mind of its own?” Britton nodded, his face betraying his concern. “It definitely has sentient properties. It seems to have its own rules and whims. I don't think even Kip understands what all it can do.” Cooper examined Britton's face, desperately hoping for any indication that this was yet another gag, like the one where Cooper had said Kip was really 200 years old, but Britton's anguish was too real. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries,” Cooper said, “but I’d like to help get everyone involved in finding him. Even the pledges. They’ll just think it’s part of initiation anyway.” “You’re talking about them like you’re not one,” Britton grinned. “Kip would kill me if he knew that you weren’t down there blindfolded right now.” “What do you think happened to him?” “I don’t know,” Britton shuddered. “I’m scared to think about it. We’ve searched every inch of the basement and he’s not down there. The cellar door was smashed to bits, so it looks like he broke out. But where he is now...?” His head slumped. “What a fuckin’ dumbass. He ruined everything. I can’t even think straight right now, I’m so mad.” He pounded a fist into Kip’s mattress. “FUCK!” Cooper loomed over Britton. "Get yourself together, man. You think Kip would want to see you losing your shit like this?" Britton shook his head, chastised. A plan flashed through Cooper’s mind, and he stood up. “Do you have a printer?” “In my room," Britton said listlessly. Cooper stood up and talked down to Britton, not even thinking twice about assuming a leader’s stance. “Alright. On the school’s freshman orientation website on the main homepage, there’s a map that divides the campus into a bunch of different sections. We can use that to assign search areas to groups of guys so we get an even spread across campus. Print me out forty copies. I’m going to get everyone to huddle up and tell them the plan.” “Wait!” Cooper was already halfway into the hall when Britton pulled him back. “I’ll talk to the brothers. They won’t know who you are. You deal with your fellow pledges.” “Can’t I talk to everyone?” “When did you turn into a Kennedy? No, that would alienate you from the group. They’d think you were just an uppity pledge.” Cooper’s broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Fine.” He couldn’t believe it was now a letdown to not get to do a little public speaking. “Did you call campus police already?” “Yeah, they’re on the lookout for him, but I described him as he normally looks. He could look completely different right now. I don’t know.” Britton addressed the brothers from over the balcony, while Cooper spoke with the pledges in the living room and pretended that he was just as clueless as they were. Brothers paired up or took a pledge with them. Cooper, of course, went with Britton. They assigned themselves the area between the Alpha house and the football stadium, which contained two streets and a long, grassy hill. None of the Alphas seemed to have any hope as they left the house armed with flashlights and cell phones. The pledges, assuming this was a planned part of initiation in which they were being tested, were like puppies following behind the brothers. The assumption was that there would be some prize for finding this mysterious “Kip.” Cooper yanked off his tie and wrapped it around his hand as he walked next to Britton, who was still visibly angry. “Hey man,” Cooper said, as their eyes scanned sidewalks and trees. “I just want to say that, even if there’s no more nectar, I’m really grateful for what you did for me. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever or will ever do for me in my life, I know that.” They walked on a few more yards and Cooper said with an emotional quiver in his voice, “I’m grateful for you. Ugh, that sounds dumb when I say it out loud.” Britton managed a smile. “We’re going to find Kip, and we’re going to turn you into an Alpha.” “That’s not what this is about. I’m not trying to find him because I want to get bigger. I’m trying to find him because he’s my brother now. As far as I'm concerned, I’ve already HAD my initiation. I already am an Alpha. I might not be a super-mega-deluxe Alpha, but I’ll have a great life like this. AND I’ll get a lot of ass.” For the first time this evening, Britton laughed out loud. "Fuckin'-a right you will." He hung a brotherly arm around Cooper's neck. Just then, they both heard a rustle from a nearby bush. They stopped in their tracks. Cooper crept slowly toward the bush, with Britton lurking close behind him. Cooper flipped on the flashlight of his cell phone. Its beam was reflected in two beady eyes which stared back from near ground level. A raccoon was nibbling on a piece of white bread it had pulled from a nearby trashcan. It scampered away with its bread. "Well, unless the nectar reincarnated Kip as a raccoon, I think we need to keep searching," Britton said. As Britton began to walk away, Cooper heard a strange noise from behind the garbage cans. He reached over and grabbed Britton's arm. "Did you hear that?" Britton listened but could only hear autumn leaves rustling. Then they both heard it. A guttural groan, like nothing either of them had ever encountered. It sounded like a strangled animal caught in a trap and begging for help. As Britton and Cooper glanced at each other in the darkness, they heard it again, more distinctly. "Breeeunnh." Cooper took a cautious step toward the trash cans. Britton remained on the sidewalk, watching nervously as whatever it was moaned eerily again with greater urgency, "Breeee-uuuuunnnnh." Cooper rounded the corner and yelped in surprise. Britton rushed over to see what had happened. Cooper was frozen in position, staring at something lurking behind the garbage cans. Britton followed Cooper's gaze but was unprepared for what he saw. Squatting on the ground was something vaguely human, or at least some kind of primate, yet Britton had never seen anything resembling this in his biology classes. It was huge, with muscles upon muscles upon muscles, freakier than even the most hard-core steroid-abusing bodybuilder. Greasy black hair straggled across its bulging brow and down past its gargantuan shoulders, with matted hair coating its face, chest and legs. Its grotesquely huge jaw hung slack as it breathed heavily through its mouth. "We better call animal control," Britton whispered into Cooper's ear. "That's no animal," said Cooper as he flipped on his cell phone light again. The creature flinched and howled at the bright light, lifting its enormous filthy hands to shield its dull, tear-filled eyes. Something shiny glinted in the light from Cooper's phone, something metallic squeezing tightly on one of the monster's bloated fingers. It took a moment before Britton recognized the item. It was very familiar, since Britton was wearing one too. It was an official Alpha Alpha Alpha ring. "Briiiii-tuuuuun," cried the creature desperately, stretching one mighty mutant arm toward Britton and Cooper, who both jumped back in fear. "Holy fucking shit," Cooper whispered, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, Britton shouted at the beast which Kip had become. Kip unleashed a horrible cry and hid his face as he rocked back and forth. He was shaking twice as badly as Alex had the day before. Britton marched over toward him, furious. “What were you thinking, you STUPID FUCKING IDI-” Cooper reached forward and yanked Britton backwards as Kip's arm swung out angrily. "You're the stupid fucking idiot!", he barked in a squelched voice at Britton. "You want him to tear your head off? Can't you see that he's terrified?" Cooper pressed a hand against Britton's chest and pushed him a safe distance away, feeling Britton's heart pounding violently. Cooper then stepped calmly toward Kip, his voice oozing confidence and betraying no fear, taking control of the situation. "Hey there, Kip," he greeted the monstrosity in as offhand a tone as he could muster. "I'm so glad we found you. Everyone was worried sick about where you had gone." The mountain of flesh made an abrupt noise which, to Cooper's ear, sounded like Kip was scoffing, but he couldn't be sure if Kip was even comprehending a word he said. "No, really, I mean it. Can you come with us?" Kip grunted something vaguely resembling "Nnnnooooo" and cowered in fear as Cooper extended a hand to him. Britton watched, amazed at how bravely Cooper was dealing with this. "Don't worry. We're not gonna hurt you." Britton leaned forward and whispered into Cooper's ear. "Where the hell we gonna take him, the zoo?" Cooper shot Britton a quick glance and whispered back, firmly, "He's still our brother, brother." Cooper stepped forward with both arms out. "Please, Kip. Let us help you. That's what Alphas do for each other." Kip's dark eyes widened, his rubbery lips attempting to smile. He placed one of his mighty paws into Cooper's hand and stood awkwardly. Britton and Cooper watched in amazement as Kip rose higher and higher, his immense body looming over them by at least a foot. Not surprisingly, not a stitch of clothing remained on the towering figure. "Make sure the coast is clear," Cooper commanded Britton. Britton nodded, then asked, "Wait, where are we taking him?" "Do you have a key to the clinic?" They were fortunate there was no moon, which helped them skulk across campus with a naked seven-foot titan in tow. They stuck to back alleys and shied away from street lights en route to the clinic. When they got there, Britton unlocked the back door, switched on the lights and led Cooper and Kip to an examining room. Kip was barely able to squeeze through the door, and snarled and shielded his eyes as the fluorescents flickered to life. The lights also gave Cooper and Britton their first well-illuminated glimpse of just how grotesque Kip had become. Britton directed Kip to have a seat on an examining table. Kip eased himself down, seemingly worried that he would crush it. "I'm just gonna take a few vitals. Is that okay?", Britton asked in a loud stress-filled voice as if addressing an 800-pound child. Kip nodded suspiciously. Britton tried to wrap a blood-pressure cuff around Kip's massive biceps, but the strap was too short to stretch all the way. He placed a stethoscope to Kip's immense hairy pecs. "Looks like we're gonna have to schedule you for a wax," Britton quipped, trying to lighten the mood. Kip chortled, a deep phlegmatic noise churning upward through his chest. Britton listened, then spoke to Cooper. "Considering his size, his pulse doesn't seem out of whack. It's hard to know what would be normal for him now." Behind Kip's back, Britton prepared a hypodermic and moved stealthily to give him a shot of sedative, but as he attempted to inject Kip, the needle broke off, unable to penetrate Kip's thick hide. Kip noticed this and took an angry swat at Britton, knocking him to the floor. Britton lifted himself back to his feet and was ready to charge at Kip, but Cooper got in the way, using his considerable strength to hold Britton back. "Chill out! Are you really stupid enough to want to fight...THAT?" He jerked his head to indicate Kip, who was now standing and seething, the top of his head grazing the ceiling. Cooper turned to Kip with a soothing smile and asked, "Can you sit back down? I just want to talk." The fury in Kip's eyes abated as he looked into Cooper's cool blue eyes. Kip fell back onto the examining table with a crunch. Cooper scooted a chair over, took Kip's hands and stared deeply into the hulking figure's haunted eyes, hoping he could connect with the old Kip, assuming he was still in there somewhere. "Are you able to talk at all? Can you tell us what happened?" Kip's heavy brows lowered and his eyelids narrowed. He cleared his throat, sounding like a garbage disposal, and Cooper caught a whiff of his ghastly breath. Noticing the filth and slime clinging to Kip's fingers and rubbery lips, Cooper deduced that Kip must have been scrounging food out of trash cans to keep this gigantic body fueled all day. It took Kip enormous effort to speak, but through a combination of words and gestures, he tried to convey his story. He pointed to Cooper and said, "Big." Pointed to himself and said, "Bigger. More bigger." He lifted his hand to his mouth, suggesting drinking the nectar. Then he made a loud explosion noise, flung his arms wide and gestured to his new musculature. Cooper nodded calmly. "Uh-huh. So you wanted to get...more bigger." Britton chimed in with the subtlety of a chainsaw. "Mission fucking accomplished, bro." Cooper kept his eyes locked on Kip. "But why? You were already so amazing. Why did you need to be more bigger?" Kip pounded his hairy chest with his fist. "Alpha." He then gestured dismissively at Cooper with one hand while holding his nose with two fingers of the other. Cooper's heart sank as he discovered how Kip really felt about him. As Cooper leaned back to sulk, Britton stepped forward, furious. "You fucking egomaniac. You've had every advantage your whole life, and you still weren't half the man Alex is." Cooper could see that he wasn't going to be able to stop Britton this time. He also made a mental note to tell Britton later that he'd like to be called Cooper from now on. Britton kept on ranting, getting closer and closer to Kip. "You didn't realize how good you had it. None of the Alphas do. We all think we were born to be the strongest, the handsomest, the most successful, like it was fucking ordained. And we think that the nectar proves our greatness because it makes us stronger and handsomer and more successful. But you just couldn't handle that a dweeby little nobody like Alex had just as much inherent virtue and strength of character as any of us, and that the nectar could enhance him so he was just as good as any Alpha. Maybe even better, because he could appreciate the benefits it gave him, instead of just taking it for granted as what he deserved." Kip was slumping in the face of Britton's tirade. Britton had no idea if his precise words were sinking in, but he could tell that his message was getting across. "So you were so jealous and so threatened that some 'mere mortal' might become as good as you that you selfishly drank all the rest of the nectar? Did you think it would make you more perfect? Did you think it would make you a god? Well, how'd that work out for you?" Kip looked down at his massive hairy arms. The big brute looked sad and dissatisfied. "Meanwhile, Alex here was the most concerned of anybody about your well being. He organized the search parties. He was cool under pressure. He forced me to get my act together when I was losing it. You know why? Because he's your brother. And he cared about you as a brother. He's an Alpha. He was an Alpha before he had a drop of that fucking nectar." Britton's chest was rising and falling rapidly and his forehead was covered in sweat, but he was satisfied that he had said his piece. He retreated to a neutral corner and tried to regain his composure. Kip's head was lowered, his heavy jaw resting on his gorilla-like chest muscles. When he raised his eyes, they were flooded with tears. He dropped to his knees, shaking the building. Groveling before Cooper, he looked up and cried, struggling to speak. "Sssssssss...." His body quaked as he sobbed. "Ssssss...orrrrreeeeee." Cooper stared at the brute as he blubbered, his massive shoulders heaving with grief. Kip looked at Cooper again, pounded a heavy index finger against Cooper's sternum and strained to say, "Aaaalllll-phaaaaa b-b-bruuuu-ther." Kip collapsed forward, his head falling into Cooper's lap. Cooper was unsure how to react, then gently brushed a hand through Kip's slimy, matted hair. In a soft tone at odds with the depth of his new voice, Cooper whispered, "Thank you.” Britton watched this peculiar scene with tears in his eyes. Kip's sobbing seemed to increase dramatically, as his muscles shook violently. Then Kip raised his head with a look of terror on his face. He wasn't crying now and, from the look in his eyes, he knew something was happening to his body, some extraordinary force was buffeting it. Britton had seen this plenty of times, but even Cooper's limited experience was enough to tell him that the nectar was gearing up for yet another metamorphosis. All three men braced themselves, fearful of how much bigger and more hideous Kip might become. “Nuh!” Kip shook his head in terror. “Nuh! NUH!” Britton felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was about to happen, he hoped he wouldn’t have to make a call to Kip’s parents when it ended. As Kip's body vibrated, his face looked sickly and his hands trembled. He opened his mouth wide as if he had something urgent to say. Cooper leaned closer, hoping to catch it...and a gusher of viscous goo shot out of Kip's mouth like water from a firehose, drenching Cooper. Cooper scooted back, his chair skidding through the nectar-laden puke that now coated the floor. Britton reached over frantically and grabbed Cooper's hand. "Don’t open your mouth! Don’t breathe! Don’t breathe don’t breathe don’t breathe. We gotta wash that shit off you. The last thing we need is another Kip." He dragged Cooper into another room which had a shower and shoved him in, fully clothed, blasting him with hot water. To his relief, the slime was washing off quickly and sliding down the drain with no evidence that it was affecting Cooper. Once his face was completely washed clean, Cooper inhaled desperately, having held his breath for more than a minute. Britton shut off the water and slumped to the floor, exhausted. Cooper looked down at his soaking-wet white shirt and pants which were clinging to every sinewy curve of his body. He looked down at Britton wearily and sighed. "Is every day this dramatic for the Alphas? Don't you ever just, like, sit around and drink too much beer?" Britton let out a cathartic laugh. "Tomorrow night. I promise." A loud moan emerged from the next room. Cooper and Britton looked at each other with dread. They crept to the door, then peeked into the examination room, expecting it to be filled to bursting with Kip. To their relief, he had not grown. In fact, he was shrinking, his super-steroidal muscles deflating back to more conceivably human dimensions. He remained as hairy as he had been in his expanded size, with the hair on his head dangling down to his nipples and a mangy growth of beard on his cheeks. He was struggling to stand, his bare feet slipping in the gallons of sticky vomit he had unleashed. Cooper and Britton stepped apprehensively through the puddles, having trouble keeping their footing. Kip draped one arm around each of their shoulders and they carried him gingerly into the clinic's waiting room. Cooper and Britton deposited him in a chair, then collapsed onto the floor. All any of them wanted to do for several minutes was breathe. Kip was the one to finally break the silence. His frail voice sounded awed and haunted, like someone who had emerged from a near-death experience. "It spoke to me." "What did?", Britton asked. "The nectar. After I took it last night. I could hear this voice. It was in Greek but I knew what it was saying.' Cooper leaned up on one elbow and looked at Kip. "And what was that?" "It said I would learn a lesson. Maybe now it's decided that I have." He slumped in his chair and lowered his arms to his sides. His ring dropped from his finger, making a sharp clang on the tile floor. Britton, Cooper and Kip all stared at the ring as it rolled across the floor, wondering if it was an omen. Kip looked down at his body, flexing his muscles and inspecting his dick. All in all, a very impressive specimen, but Kip realized something. "I'm too thin for the ring. This is my old body. From before I became an Alpha." "Bullshit," Cooper said. "You've always been an Alpha." Kip grinned back and said, "You too, brother." Then his face twisted up like he was about to cry. Kip hated crying. His lips knotted and his eyes welled up with what looked to be a gallon of water, but no tears fell. “I was so scared. I couldn’t talk! I was so, s-s-so scared…” “You just had a trauma.” Cooper reached out to put an arm around Kip, but Kip took the gesture further and yanked a surprised Cooper up into a big bear hug. Britton smiled at the reconciliation, then had an abrupt realization. "Shit, we need to call off the APB so everyone can stop searching for you!" Britton pulled out his cell phone to dial campus police. Cooper pulled his own phone from the pocket of his wet slacks and realized the phone had gotten soaked and was inoperable. Britton told him not to worry about it. He'd take care of the phone calls. He directed Cooper and Kip to the staff locker room where naked Kip and soggy Cooper could slip into some scrubs. When they returned to Alpha house for a triumphant welcome, Kip stood before the Alphas and the pledges, looking hairier and more disheveled than anyone had ever seen him. Kip related the story of his mugging and amnesia which had landed him in the hospital -- a tale he had cooked up with Britton and Cooper on the walk back from the clinic to explain his abrupt disappearance. He promised to reschedule the induction ceremony and thanked everyone for their concern. After the pledges had departed, Britton and Kip decided they needed to check on the status of the nectar barrel in the basement. As they started downstairs, Cooper heard someone say, "Pssst!" He turned and saw Kip motioning him over and whispering, "Aren't you coming?" Cooper smiled, delighted at being included. They reached the claustrophobic antechamber where the ancient barrel sat in a golden frame. They all braced themselves as Kip gently pried open the lid and peeked inside. He looked up and grinned. "It's flowing again." Britton and Cooper leaned over and discovered that the barrel was about one-tenth full of golden nectar. Every few seconds, the surface would ripple as if a new drop had fallen into it, yet those new drops didn't seem to be falling FROM anywhere. They were just...appearing. Cooper asked Kip and Britton, "How is that possible? Where does it come from?" Kip spoke sagely. "The Gods work in mysterious ways. Believe me, I know." Cooper was exhausted and asked if he could just crash somewhere in the frat for tonight. Britton let him sleep in his room, as long as he left early enough in the morning that no one else would see him. The other brothers would see it as a major breach of protocol if a mere pledge had been allowed to stay at the frat before induction. Since some of the Alphas rowed crew and had to get up before dawn, that meant Cooper was up and out of the frat by 4am. Britton loaned him another outfit even preppier than the one he had worn the day before, with a white cable-knit V-neck sweater over a gray Oxford shirt, coral shorts and deck shoes. He pulled his long blond hair into a ponytail and stared with awe at the short blond beard he was now sporting. He kept catching himself sticking his tongue out to run it over the whiskers around his mouth. He just couldn’t believe that they were there. Starbucks was not open yet, so Cooper killed time outside, wondering how he might convince Jennifer to give him a chance. His phone was now fucked up, so he couldn't send her a text. He decided to pull out a pen and sheet of paper, then pondered what to write. When Starbucks opened, Jennifer was at the counter and Cooper was the first in line, but he graciously allowed others to go ahead of him. He wanted to catch Jennifer when she had a breather between customers. When he finally reached the counter, Jennifer looked up and put on an obligatory forced smile. "Can I take your order?" Cooper leaned down, elbows on the counter, so that his eyes were even with hers. "Good morning. A friend of mine gave me a note for you." She looked at him suspiciously, expecting it to be some lame coerced apology from Devin. Cooper handed her the paper, which she unfolded. She looked at the bottom first, and her heart lifted when she saw that it was from Alex. Her delight was short-lived. "Dear Jennifer, I wanted to let you know that you won't be seeing me around anymore. It's too complicated to explain, but I've experienced some very big life changes in the past few days. Before I go, I asked my good friend Cooper if he would give you this note." Jennifer glanced over, surprised to discover that Cooper would be a good friend of Alex. She looked back at the note. "Although we barely met, I will always remember how you immediately could see the real me and didn't judge me by my outward appearance. That's a rare gift, and I hope you will continue to extend the benefit of the doubt to anyone you meet. People can really surprise you if you get to know them. Don't worry about me. I expect to have a great life. I hope you will too. Your friend, Alex" Jennifer lowered the letter and saw Cooper staring back. She didn't see the cockiness he had exhibited yesterday. She saw a friend. "Are you really friends with Alex?", she asked. "We couldn't be closer." She pursed her lips and looked him over. Maybe he was worth giving the benefit of the doubt. A line was beginning to form again, so she shifted back to business with a genuine smile. "Okay, Cooper, what can I get you?" Just as Cooper ordered his latte, Jennifer noticed Devin arriving. He wasn't in a hurry for once and immediately went to the rear of the line to wait his turn like a civilized person. Cooper spotted him too, pleased that Devin had changed his selfish ways. Devin grinned when he saw Cooper and gave him a friendly wave. Cooper leaned back to Jennifer and said, "I swear he's not my friend. I just keep running into him. Turns out he's not as bad as I thought at first." Jennifer nodded, thinking it over, then looked back at Cooper. "Yeah, I hear that can happen." As Cooper waited for his drink, Devin called over to him. "'Sup, Coop. How's it going?" "Had a rough night last night, but things are good today. So far." "Awesome, dude. Hey, listen, I hope you don't mind, but I told my basketball coach about how good you were at football, and he said he would talk to the football staff about getting you a tryout." Cooper thought this was absurd. Yesterday was the first time he had ever played football with this new body. It had felt good, natural, but he found it unfathomable that he might be able to play at college level. Then again, he'd seen a lot of unfathomable things these past few days. "I can't imagine I'm good enough." "Don't sell yourself short, buddy. You're awesome." Gradually, Cooper was starting to accept that he might actually be awesome. "Thanks, man." "Sure thing, bro." Cooper had a light schedule that morning and found himself unable to concentrate in the couple of classes that he did bother attending. He blew off his afternoon classes entirely, stripping off his shirt and sweater and lying on the grass in the quad to catch some rays. His mind drifted over the events of recent days, marveling over how his thoughts about life in general and his own life in particular had changed so drastically. He was drifting off into a pleasant dream when he heard someone bark, "Hey, you! Get a haircut!" Cooper's eyes popped open and he saw Kip looking down at him, still with straggly black hair and a moth-eaten beard. He extended an arm to lift Cooper to his feet. They headed to a male-focused hair salon with old-fashioned barber chairs and men in gleaming white uniforms. Kip had made appointments for them ahead of time. The place smelled like peppermint and musk. It was a whole new world to Cooper. Kip asked his stylist for "the usual" and instructed Cooper's barber to give him the same cut. Their chairs were reclined so they could each get their beards shaved off with straight razors, which freaked Cooper out because he’d never had one before. He had to admit, it felt amazing. The barber was a master at navigating the jutting bones that composed Cooper’s chiseled face. Hot towels were placed on their faces and their chairs raised upright for the unveiling. Cooper stared at the clean-cut, clean-shaven preppy poster child in the mirror. His shiny golden hair was clipped short on the sides and an artistically-gelled tangle on the top, identical to Kip's in everything but color. Without the distraction of his long hair, Cooper's knife's-edge cheekbones and chin cleft were even more eye-grabbing. He stared for a long time at himself, watching his big chest rise and fall under the smock. He looked over to Kip, who gave an approving thumbs-up. Then Cooper looked back at the mirror, eyes wide in complete amazement. Cooper ran his hands through the perfect wave of blond hair. “Wow,” he whispered. “You okay?” Kip reached over and laid a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “I’m great. I’m just getting used to him. Uh, to me. That reflection.” “I can’t imagine how strange that must be.” Kip paused. “Well, actually, I can kind of imagine, now.” Kip needed a body wax to remove all traces of the were-Kip from last night, but Cooper declined to join him, even when Kip offered to pay. "Okay, man, see you tonight at eight," Kip said. Cooper was surprised. "Oh, so it's on?" "Yeah. We'd been trying to call you but your phone is still fucked." "Is there, you know, is there enough…" Cooper coughed a little. “Did you buy enough BEER? We wouldn’t want to have a party if we don’t have any BEER,” Cooper asked, not wanting to mention the nectar where non-Alphas could hear them. Catching the code, Kip grinned and spoke confidentially. "I checked this morning and we’re fully stocked. The barrel is full of beer. Good thing beer is forgiving even when I don’t deserve to be forgiven, huh?” “You deserved to be forgiven. Sometimes when you drink too much, the hangover is a monster.” That night, all the pledges including Cooper were gathered in the basement of the frat, kneeling naked in a circle. He was positioned all the way to the right at the end of the semi-circle, so that he would be the last to drink. Every other pledge was flaccid with anxiety, but Cooper’s long dick stuck straight up in front of him. He was the only one who knew what was coming. Cooper knew this ceremony would seal his membership, but he already felt like he belonged. Two men in red robes and sandals entered with the crystal bowl of nectar and brought it to the lips of the pledges, who as usual were overwhelmed with the powerful sensations that spread through their bodies. Some of them passed right out, others masturbated themselves into a coma, so when it came to be Cooper’s turn, he was the only conscious pledge. When the ladle was brought to his lips, he heard Britton intoning his name solemnly: "Cooper Alexander Carmichael. Alpha name: Coop." Britton enunciated the ‘p’ with a loud pop of his lips. Cooper glanced up and could just make out Britton's features in the murky darkness of his hood. He could swear that Britton gave him a wink. As the ladle reached his mouth, Cooper eagerly cupped his hands around it and guided its contents down his throat. A dribble rolled out of the corner of his lips, and this time it was a robed man – Kip – who caught it with his thumb, which Cooper wrapped his mouth around sucked off. “UNGH!” If a punch in the stomach could feel good, that was what Cooper got. Hot pleasure shot through his nerves and he splattered a load of cum right onto the bottom of Britton’s robe. Cooper fell forward onto his hands, spraying his seed underneath him. He moaned loudly. Britton stumbled back to avoid getting doused again, managing to avoid laughing. The two robed men carried the nectar into the back room, with Britton whispering to Kip. "You sure you don't want a little?" Kip told him, "No, I'm good." Even handling the nectar made him nervous now. He played with the Alpha ring on his finger, which he had gotten resized to fit on his slimmer finger. Cooper could tell he would normally be feeling terrible, but his tolerance for pain had increased so radically in his new form that he felt almost nothing. This final dose wasn't nearly as shocking to Cooper's system as either of the prior two, more like a Ben-Gay body rub than the bone-wracking agony he had experienced before. But he could still sense that something was changing. While the rest of the pledges had been shrieking and groaning and passing out, Cooper mostly had a sensation of the room growing ever so slightly smaller. He could feel the sinews in his chest vibrating. Heat rushed through his arms up to the tip of his fingers. Thicker and bigger he grew. His butt swelled out, his thighs pulsed with growth. The shapes of his muscles grew more improbable with each throb of his body, as his physique reshaped into something Herculean, with proportions most professional bodybuilders could only dream of. It was chiseled beauty blown into its biggest human form. Cooper’s shape could never be achieved with chemical concoctions. It was just something you had or you didn’t. And if you weren’t Cooper, you didn’t have it. He felt the angles of his jaw shifting again, the bottom of his face a collection of 45- and 90- degree angles that no surgeon could replicate. His beard blasted back through his skin as his hormones surged. A sweet, masculine aroma wafted out from him, filling the basement with his manly scent. Britton and Kip noticed Cooper's changes immediately upon their return, and both could do nothing but gasp. Cooper's muscles were filling out beautifully, exquisite in every contour, and his already stunning face achieved perfect symmetry – almost inhuman to behold, as if he were the next stage of man. As the other inductees rose from their blackouts, they naturally inspected themselves first, but their eyes were all quickly drawn to Cooper's magnificence. He had become the Alpha-est Alpha of all. He stood, arms out in angles at his sides, his hips naturally cocked, his dick standing straight up and oozing cum. He pulled his biceps up into a pose and moved to kiss them. But his shoulder had grown so broad, his neck so thick, that he couldn’t stretch to his bicep. Instead, he pulled his arm over to his face and Frenched the muscle, as more cum spurted onto his 10-pack. When he felt the sticky moisture, he looked down and grinned from ear to ear as his cock smiled back up at its master. He wrapped one hand around his shaft and cupped his balls with the other, dropping to his knees and playing with himself until he finally fainted. -------- He woke up in the basement, his demigod body glazed by his own sperm. Britton was sitting nearby, playing with his phone. “God, I thought you’d never wake up.” “Why am I still down here?” His voice had changed again. It was a pleasant bass now, booming out of him like a shout. He had to consciously work to scale back the volume. With his massive chest, there was just so much space to project from. “It took three of us to pick you up instead of the usual two, and we couldn’t fit all three of us and you in the stairwell.” “Awesome,” Cooper grinned, laying on his back and tapping his abs like they were piano keys. “Shit, I feel huge just here on the floor.” “You got…really big. You’re the biggest I’ve ever seen.” Britton stood up and clapped his hands together, flinging a pair of XXL Tri-Alpha shorts at him to wear for now. “First thing tomorrow, we’re getting you clothes.” After shaving again – he cut himself twice because he wasn’t used to the angles of his face - Cooper was taken shopping the next day by Britton and Kip. Alex had never been much of a shopper, but Cooper was discovering that he loved it. The only problems were finding fashionable clothes big enough for his jacked 6'6" frame and deciding what to buy, since he now looked good in practically anything -- although he looked best wearing nothing at all. He really liked dress shirts now, but he couldn’t close the collars. Britton, as a welcome gift, ordered Cooper three custom shirts so that he’d be able to wear a tie with them. They picked out a lot of sweaters, because sweaters stretched. They were still skintight, with cable knit warping over his arms and chest, but Cooper sort of dug that look. They had to buy his pants huge so that his thighs would fit inside of them, and Kip called in a favor with a girl he knew at Tri-Delt who could resize the waists to fit Coop. Shoes were a big problem too – Cooper had to wear flip-flops for four days before his online shoe order arrived. No physical stores had his size. Luckily, other Alphas had had the same problem, and had a list of places for him to look on the Internet. Cooper needed to retrieve some final items from his dorm room before moving into the frat. The threesome had to walk single-file down the hallway, their broad shoulders nearly scraping the opposite walls. Roach was not in the room when they got there, so the guys quickly gathered Alex's belongings, boxing up his old clothes to donate to charity. Cooper, Britton and Kip were just about to leave when the door opened and Roach entered with his girlfriend Rachel. Rachel's eyes nearly exploded from her head at this triptych of male pulchritude, while Roach skittered to the corner of the room. "Shit, now there's three of them. I told you the other night, just take what you want and leave." Cooper smiled ingratiatingly. "Just letting you know, Roach, that Alex is moving out." Roach stammered in confusion, "Who's Alex?" Rachel took an annoyed swat at Roach. "He's your roommate, you dope." She turned back to the three guys, grinning. "So is one of you moving in to replace him?" "No," replied Cooper. "We're Alpha men." The three hunks left the room and headed toward the elevators. Rachel followed into the hall to watch them walk away. Roach sidled up to her, annoyed. "Whatta they got that I don't?" Rachel turned to her boyfriend with annoyance. "Are you fucking high?" To thank Britton and Kip for their help, Cooper offered to treat them to something at Starbucks. Jennifer was working the counter and was startled when she looked up and saw the men. Her peripheral vision could grasp that the two guys bookending him on either side were remarkably beautiful, but she couldn't take her eyes off Cooper in the middle. He had cleaned up nicely, losing the long hair and the scruff, and his blue eyes were even more mesmerizing than she remembered. She had never seen a face structured like his. He looked like a painting in motion. He was wearing a V-neck t-shirt that barely held in his chest. She attempted to ask if she could take their order, but only a few random dusty syllables tumbled from her mouth. "Hello, Jennifer," Cooper said, his deep voice enchantingly musical. He clapped a hand on the shoulder of each of his companions. "These are my friends, Britton and Kip." The guys said hello, and Jennifer grinned back, stupefied. Imbued with pure confidence, Cooper looked at Jennifer and said, "We're having a party at the Alpha Alpha Alpha house tonight, and I would like you to accompany me." It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a statement of fact. She finally got a word out. "Definitely." -------- When senior year began, Cooper started his term as president of the Alphas, succeeding Britton who would still drop by periodically when not swamped by med school. Cooper didn't have much free time either, between classes, the demands of the frat, and the grueling schedule of the football team for which he was now starting quarterback. In a way, he was happy so much of his time was taken up with these other activities, so he could cede all planning of their upcoming wedding to Jennifer. All he insisted on was that his groomsmen have tailored tuxes, nothing baggy. Off-the-rack didn’t work for Alphas -- not even for Kip, who would be proudly displaying the thirty pounds of muscle he’d finally gained back through rigorous training. As frat president, Cooper did have one important task to carry out which he could not delegate. After the success of what became known in hushed tones as "the Alex experiment", the Alphas established a tradition of scouring the campus each fall for one unlikely looking but thoroughly deserving freshman to receive the nectar. This was a closely-kept secret, known only to the president, his second-in-command and, obviously, the previously nerdy recipients of this gift. It was important that the other frat brothers remain unaware of the procedure, so that they wouldn't think any less of the new recruit who hadn't arrived at college with their natural physical advantages -- and so that none of the brothers would get the crazy idea of taking extra nectar to improve themselves further. After an exhaustive search, Cooper had targeted Milo, an overweight physics student with wispy red hair and a fondness for classical music. Cooper had been as vague as possible in his previous discussions with Milo, so that if he backed out, he wouldn't know enough to expose the Alphas' secrets. But now that Milo was in the basement of Alpha house, eager to receive his first dose of the sweet nectar that would forever alter his life, Cooper spoke with foreboding from beneath his red hood. “Milo Hayes Reynolds, this nectar is more powerful than you could possibly imagine. One of our members is more than two hundred years old. Another fought in the Civil War. But for the Union, don’t worry.” In the shadows of his cloak, Cooper grinned mischievously, revealing his absolutely perfect teeth.
  10. The muscle frat (2)

    Two The next morning Brad awoke with a strange feeling: the mixture of too many beers and the pride of being a DEXAMENI-frat member buzzed around in his head. He groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. He was laying in a bed against the left wall, the bed against the opposite wall was empty but the sheets were tossed on it. He tried figuring out how he'd gotten there. All he remembered was the initiation, the first two beers and then everything was blurry. "A shower would do some good", he said to himself as he sat up in his bed and tossed his sheets aside. He noticed he'd worn his boxers to bed. He tried stepping out of the bed but his spinning head made him pause for a second. The door opened and he looked up. "Ah, ya're awake, roomie", Brock said as he entered the room. "Roomie?", Brad asked while his buddy, wearing nothing but a towel rapped his waist, closed the door and turned around. "Yeah, Keith agreed you moved in with me since we're friends. Normally the new guys have to stay together in the other part of the building but I convinced him to let ya stay with me", Brock replied. "Thanks, buddy." "Don't mention it", Brock stated with a grin, " Ya really let yourself go at the party. I carried ya upstairs to our room. Ya were too wasted to make it up the stairs. Ya passed out in my arms. Ya didn't even hear me get up an hour ago for my morning workout." "A shower would be a got idea", Brad said and stepped out of his bed. He walked over to the center of the room but his 45 pound heavier friend didn't move and blocked his way to the door. "There are some rules around the house ya don't know yet, rookie", Brock said. "What do you mean, B.?", Brad asked and looked into his friend's eyes. "Well, I'm the senior member here. Second in line after Keith. So ya have to do what I say", Brock said as he placed his hands on his hips to flare his lats and emphasize the width of his 229 pound body. Brad nodded as he took in the size of his best friend's pumped arms. A hint of jealousy going through him since he'd always envied Brock's good muscle building genes. "I could use a blowjob right now", Brock said. "No way", Brad blurted out. He gulped as he saw the look on the bigger man's face. Brock folded his pumped arms in front of his chest, making the mounds of muscle that were his biceps swell into the rack of pecs. Brad reluctantly fell down to his knees and looked up at the veins snaking along the cords of muscle in his buddy's forearms. He reached for the towel when the 45 pound bigger man began laughing. "Got ya", Brock said as he exploded in laughter, "Man, ya should have seen your face. Priceless!". He grabbed his buddy's armpits and hoisted him up to his feet. "You mean I don't have…", Brad began. "Na. I could make ya, but you're my friend", Brock stated, "Serious though, if ya want a good blowjob let me know. One of the new members from last year is great at giving head. Might gonna see him right now". Brad noticed the stirring motion beneath his best friend's towel. "Shower's in the hallway", Brock said as he disappeared from their room. The semester went by like a breeze: Brad had the time of his life in the DEXAMENI-frat. He enjoyed the friendship of his roommate who kept watching his back. Every time one of the older frat members wanted to put him up with some humiliating chore, Brock would show up and say that he was his personal rookie and made him carry his shoes or gym bag while the others laughed at him. They kept working out daily, pushing each other to their limits. Brad had managed to gain three more pounds, now brushing 185 pounds of ripped muscle. Brock on the other side put on another 12 pounds, making him a whopping 241 pounds of bulky mass, his arms now measuring nearly 23 inches cold. Some of his newly gained mass was fat though, a role of lard began obscuring the bottom row of his muscle gut, but being the biggest guy on the football team was more important to Brock than a ripped six-pack. A week before the Christmas holiday, Brad walked into their room. His eyes went wide as he stepped in. Brock was lying naked on his bed while some small wrestler was nestled between his thick quads and sucking him off. "Jeez, I'm sorry", Brad muttered as he backed away. "Get in and close the door, rookie!", Brock ordered as he looked up to his roommate. Brad closed the door and stood in the center of the room, staring at the incredible scene in front of him. He actually felt his own dick hardening in his pants as he looked at the small, yet muscular wrestler sucking his buddy's 10 inch pole with gusto. "YEAUGHN", Brock groaned deeply, his meaty chest flexing as he blasted his load down the wrestler's eager throat. "Good one, Jay", he said as he gently ruffled the wrestler's hair. Brad watched as the wrestler got up and noticed the large wet stain on the guy's tented boxers. "You've such a hot body", the wrestler said as he rubbed his hands along the masses of meat atop Brock's chest. Brock bounced his meaty pecs under the guy's grasp and looked at his roommate. "Ya want a blowjob too, Brad?", he asked. "Na, I'm good", Brad replied. "Your loss. Jay's got the best mound on campus", Brock said and clenched his fist to make his right bicep harden under the wrestler's touch. "Wow", Jay said as his hands were pried open by the orb of steely meat. "Ya can train with me after the holidays like I promised, Jay", Brock said, "Now leave me and my roomie to it. Happy holidays". He threw a double bicep and sent the wrestler off. Just as Jay passed by Brad he said to him: "The offer stands. If you want a blowjob, let me know. Brock said you have a great body too". Brock exploded in laughter as he saw the dazzled expression on his friend's face as the wrestler left their room. "Told ya he's real good. He came up to me the first week he'd gotten in the frat and offered me a blowjob right there in the showers! He's even more into my body as I am. Ya should really give it a try, buddy. So, what's up?". "Problems at home", Brad said as he sat down on his bed, "You mind putting on some clothes?". "A shame to hide any part of this body", Brock replied and slowly rubbed his hand along his bulky frame and gave his deflating 10 incher a good squeeze. He did pull on his boxers. "My little brother dropped out of high school and is in constant fights with my parents. Some holiday I'm up for", Brad said. "Why don't ya ask him to stay here on campus. He could sleep here in the frat house, most of the guys are going home. I'm staying since I'm an orphan so ya don't have to be here alone with him", Brock replied as he walked over to his roommate's bed and sat down next to him. "Sounds pretty good to me. But I'll never convince my parents", Brad stated and looked into his buddy's eyes. "I'll give 'em a call. Say ya have some stuff to do on campus", Brock said and patted his friend's back. "Tell them my brother's in for some pre-student program", Brad said and thanked his best friend. Brock indeed managed to convince Brad's parents and a week later his brother arrived on the nearly deserted campus. A faint knock on the wooden doors of the frat house echoed through the hallway. Brock opened the door and looked down on the skinny boy standing there. "Little T.", he said with a grin as he recognized Brad's little brother Tristan. Tristan instinctively stepped back as he looked at his older brother's massive friend. Despite having turned 18 a few weeks earlier, Tristan looked like puberty had completely forgotten him. Standing 5'5 and weighing a measly 124 pounds, he looked like an emaciated kid. Even the thick hoodie and the baggy jeans he was wearing couldn't hide his skinny frame. Brock looked into the small boy's dark brown eyes and felt a bit uneasy, despite outweighing him by more than 100 pounds. Tristan just stared back into the huge man's eyes. He noticed the unease and a smug grin formed on his lips. He'd always used his intellect to mess with his jock brother and Brock, enjoying their stupid reactions. "So", he asked, "Can I come in or do I have to stay out here?". "Oh, sure thing, little T. Come on in. I'll show yar room", Brock said moved aside to let the small boys enter. "You're getting fat, Brock", Tristan said as he squeezed his frail body between the wall and the huge man's muscle gut, "Jeez, you're taking up half the corridor with your bulk". "Biggest man in the house and on the football team", Brock said with pride and flexed his right arm in front of his torso, making his 23 inch gun harden in a veiny, striated orb of meat. Tristan stared at the round ball of hard meat and shook his head. "If I want to see some dumb meat, I'll watch some cows. Just show my room. Then you can go back at mindlessly pumping iron to compensate", he said in a harsh tone. Brock relaxed his pose. "Let me grab yar bag", he said to break the tensed atmosphere. He tossed the bag over his broad shoulder and silently led the small boy to his room, wondering why the guy didn't admire his muscles like the others. Even though he could squash him like a bug, Tristan always made him feel somewhat unsecure. "Here we are", he said as he opened a door in a deserted hallway, "If ya need anything, let me know. Yar bro and I are staying on the other side of the house. I'll come get ya for diner", Brock said and left the small boy. He closed their door behind him and went for the gym. Tristan looked around the room but couldn't get the image of Brock's huge body from his mind. He'd always had a crush on the guy ever since he'd seen him shirtless, comparing his muscles to Brad's. Since then, Brock had only grown bigger and he'd often jerked off thinking off the guy's big muscles. He'd only played cool and uninterested to avoid being caught. Now, having stared at Brock's bulk stretching his tank top to the max, his cock was raging hard since the huge man had opened the door. Tristan unbuttoned his pants, pulled his throbbing 5 incher from his briefs and began stroking his hot shaft. Within seconds, he blew a watery, meager load, thinking about Brock's beastly body. He pulled his pants back on and got unpacked. A few hours later Brock returned from the gym with Brad. They found Tristan sitting in the kitchen, quietly eating dinner. "Hey, little bro. Heard you dropped out of high school", Brad said. "So?", Tristan replied without looking up. "Cool with me", Brad stated a bit uneasy. "Let's eat too", Brock said to break the tension. He knew Brad and Tristan had never really gotten along. "Good workout, man. Still feeling pumped", he said to Brad while he bounced his pumped pecs. Tristan looked up as he finished his meal and saw the meaty mounds of muscle dance atop the huge man's chest. "Lucky I'm done eating. One could easily lose his appetite looking at a half naked man with a role of fat protruding from his gut", he said while his cock hardened in his pants. "Sorry", Brock replied uneasily and put on a shirt he pulled from his gym bag. "Little bro. It's Brock who got the idea to invite ya over. So ya could get some distance from man and dad. So show him some gratitude", Brad said to his brother. "Wow, Brock. You're improving: you had an actual idea", Tristan answered instantly. He snickered as he noticed the embarrassment in the huge man's eyes. "I'm going to bed. Exhausted from the trip.", he said and disappeared from the kitchen. "I'm sorry, man", Brad said to his bigger friend, "I really thought my brother would thank ya for letting him stay here. I'll talk to him in the morning. So, nice record ya set on the bench today." A smile appeared on Brock's face when his buddy mentioned his new record. He felt testosterone flow through his 241 pound body just thinking of his lift. "I'm gonna trash our opponents on the football field. Can't wait to break the 250 pound mark", he said and groped his thick pecs. The confidence of being the biggest man around returning to him. The rest of the week went by as it had started: Tristan stayed in his room most of the time, avoiding his brother and Brock as much as he could. Brad and Brock let the small guy alone and spent lots of time in the gym, constantly pushing each other. They decided to throw a party just for the three of them, hoping to take Tristan's mind off things at home. As they ended their workout, Brad said he would get the booze. He took a quick shower and went to the store, while Brock blasted out some more sets to make his 23 inch arms grow some more. Brock smiled at his reflection as he did a double bicep and saw his pumped arms. Brock arrived back at the frat house, pulled off his sweat-drenched workout gear and strutted into the mutual showers. He heard the water running and saw Tristan standing under the farthest shower head. He nodded at the small guy and took the shower next to his. He sighed as the hot water cascaded down on his beastly body. Tristan looked up in shock as he heard the heavy footsteps and saw Brock stepping up to him. He quickly turned around, facing the tilled wall as the man he secretly lusted for stood next to him. He felt blood flowing to his flaccid cock and focused on hiding his beginning boner. Brock began soaping his wide, muscle-filled frame and looked aside to the small boy standing next to him. Up close and without his baggy clothes the guy looked even wimpier. "Nice tan ya have", he said, giving Tristan a compliment to break the tension that somehow always appeared between the two of them. "So that's why you're always in the gym: to look at other guys' bodies", Tristan replied and glanced aside to look at Brock's pumped arms. A shiver went through him as the masses of hard meat, choked with veins bulged while the huge man soaped his body. Another jolt shot through his further hardening cock. "No, I…", Brock muttered, "I really mean it: ya look good. Wish I had a bronze tan like yours". He felt even less sure after his remark, like the small guy made him feel weak and helpless. "Thanks, I guess", Tristan answered coldly. He turned off the shower, getting ready to leave. He turned toward the tilled wall on his right, his small back facing the huge man next to him and his hands covering his half-hard dick. Brock noticed the skinny boy's back and decided he had to talk things through."Tristan, wait", he said as he turned off his own shower. He gently put his paw atop the boy's frail shoulders. Tristan jumped up as the huge man's paws covered his bony shoulders completely. "What the fuck are you doing, Brock?", he yelped in his high-pitched voice and tried to squirm free. "Calm down. I just want to talk.", Brock replied and gently spun the small boy around so he could look him in the eye.
  11. The muscle frat (1)

    One "Come on. One more, buddy!" Brad grunted from the effort, his face beet red as he curled the 100 pound barbell up. "10", he groaned between his teeth as he completed his rep. "Nice job, man", Brock said as he helped his buddy lower the barbell back down and place it on the floor. Both aged 21, the two had been friends ever since their first day in kindergarten and had always been in the same class up until university. Even then, they had both chosen Orchid University. After setting their first steps in the gym at age 15, they had continued working out together on a daily base and joined their high school's football team. Now they we're both among the star players of the university football team. Brad controlled his fast breathing and looked down at his former roommate grabbing the 120 pound bar from the rack. "Come on, final set!", he said to his buddy as he sat down on a bench, exhausted from their workout and took a sip from his shake. "Fuck yeah!", Brock growled as he began curling the barbell with perfect control. "Grow", he said to his arms, his big biceps swelling with every rep as more blood flowed into them. "8, agh, 9, agh, ten…", he groaned, "gimme a spot, man!". Brad got up from the bench and stood in front of his roommate. He placed his fingers underneath the middle of the barbell and assisted the movement. "Come on, one more!", he said to encourage Brock. "Eleuhven…", Brock grunted. His body trembled as he lowered the barbell back down. "Tweuhlve". Brad's eyes widened as his roommate went on to complete twenty reps before he helped him put the barbell down. While Brock grabbed his towel from the nearby bench, Brad looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He grinned and raised his right arm in a flex. The pumped bicep hardened atop his meaty arm, blue veins snaking along the muscle. "How big are those guns?", Brock asked as he emptied his shake and looked up at his buddy. "Just under 18 inches pumped", Brad replied and hardened his flex some more. Brock moved next to his friend and raised his right arm to copy his pose. His bicep, pumped and red from the workout, mounded upward as he brought in his lower arm. The peak pushed against his skin and a web of blue, thick veins fed the steely orb. "Nice man", Brad said while he stared at the obviously bigger arm. "22,5 inches all pumped", Brock stated with pride. "Let's hit the shower, man", he said as he relaxed his arm and strutted toward the exit. "Yeah", Brad answered. "So, any other news?", he asked as he caught up with his buddy. "I told ya a million times, man: I'm not the president of the frat. Just be patient", Brock said and patted his buddy on the back. "I've been waiting for an invite ever since we've got here three years ago. You got in during the second semester of our freshman year. This year is my last shot", Brad went on. Ever since Brock had been allowed into the Dexameni-frat, the most exclusive frat on campus that housed most of the top athletes, he'd been jealous. He'd been checking his locker for an invite every day since his best buddy had gotten in. Brock turned to face Brad, grabbed his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. "Your chance will come, buddy. Be patient!", he said in a loud tone to cut off Brad. He released his friend and continued his way to the locker room. Brad sighed, knowing his friend was right and followed him inside. The locker room was completely deserted. They took off their sweaty workout gear in silence. Brad was down to his boxers and reached for his locker when he noticed the little black envelope. "No way", he mumbled and took it. His hands trembled as he ripped it open and read the piece of paper inside. You've proven worthy to join the ranks of the Dexameni-frat. Report to the frat house this Friday at 1900h "Good news?", Brock asked, keeping his back to Brad as he stripped completely. "I'm in!", Brad blurted out. "Told ya to be patient, buddy. I'm glad for ya", Brock replied and strutted toward the shower zone. He turned on the shower and let the hot water cascade down on his muscular body. He looked aside to Brad standing under the shower to his right. "Did ya bulk up during summer?", he asked, "Ya look bigger than last year". "Yeah", Brad answered, "I'm up to 182. I'm catching up, buddy". Brock smiled at the reaction. Even though Brad was a tad taller, 5'9 to his own 5'8, their bodies looked different. Brad had the muscular physique of a ripped fitness model, while he had the heavily muscled look of a bulky amateur bodybuilder. "Still some work ahead, buddy. I've gained some mass too: up to 229,3 pounds." Brad turned to his side and faced his buddy. Every muscle on Brock's body looked fuller than his defined ones. "Ready to burst through the 230 mark, he big guy. We'd better change your nickname from B-rock to B-wall", he said. "My abs look better though." He caressed the grooves of his ripped six-pack. A smug grin appeared on Brock's face when his friend used his nickname. He'd always liked being called b-rock; it made him feel even bigger than he was. "Ya know what they say", he said playfully, "abs on a skinny guy don't count". He flexed his abs in response, making his somewhat protruding muscle gut harden. "You're lucky we're friends. I should have kicked your ass for that remark", Brad stated with a smile. They always fooled around but he knew his buddy always had his back. "Kick my ass? You and what army?", Brock answered in an amused tone. He turned to his right and faced his friend. Brad's defined muscles gave him an athletic look. His own muscles were clearly fuller and rounder, his shoulder's half again as wide than his buddy's. "Think ya could challenge the b-rock?", he asked as he threw a most muscular. Brad stared at his 229 pound friend flexing right in front of him. The bulky muscles hardened all over his broad frame: his thick arms digging into the rack of pecs atop his muscle gut, his meaty quads pushing against each other. "At least, I'm taller", he said with a smirk and stood tall to stretch out his 5'9 frame. "Ya have to have something to attract some female attention", Brock replied playfully, " otherwise no one would notice ya next to me." He relaxed his pose and gently punched his friend in the shoulder. "Na. You're lucky to have your big muscles. Your ugly face scares off anyone", Brad answered. "Thanks for helping me get in the frat. I really appreciate it, man", he said and thankfully patted his buddy's broad back. "I'm happy I could help. See ya on Friday for the initiation", Brock said as he turned off the shower and strutted away from the shower zone, water sliding along the crevices of his bulky muscles. Two days later, Brad made his way over to the Dexameni-frat house. His legs quivered slightly with every step he took and his stomach clenched together: it felt like his first day of school again. He looked up at the façade of the mansion he'd passed nearly daily since he's been on campus. Two flexed, muscular arms were painted on the wide door and the name of the frat of his dreams sat atop it: DEXAMENI. Brad inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and stepped up toward the entrance. He knocked three times and waited. What seemed like an eternity passed before the heavy wooden doors opened squeakingly. A muscular, bare-chested figure appeared in the dark corridor. "Come in!", a deep baritone boomed. Brad sighed, he had recognized Brock's deep voice and eagerly entered the frat house. "I'm glad it's you, Brock", he said, "I'm…". "Silence!", Brock rumbled, "you only speak when spoken too! Follow me!". Brad jumped up as the heavy doors closed behind him and by the harsh tone of his best friend. He nodded and followed the big guy through the long, dark corridor. Brock opened a door on his right and entered, his smaller buddy following right behind. "Strip down to your boxers", he said and folded his meaty arms in front of his protruding pecs. Brad obeyed and stripped off his clothes until he was standing in his American flag boxers in front of his friend. "So what's next?", he asked. "SILENCE!", Brock roared. Brad shivered, his friend's deep baritone rumbling inside his stomach. Brock led his friend into another room and made him wait by the door while he stepped up to the center of the room. He stopped at the base of a wooden staircase that led to an altar with a throne behind it. "O great leader", he said as he looked up to the figure in the throne, "I bring you a new recruit that wishes to join the ranks of our noble frat." "Bring him before me", the leader replied. Brock walked back to the door where Brad was standing and brought him to the center of the room. Brad's heart pounded nervously but the feeling of his buddy standing behind him, comforted him. "Step forward, brothers", he figure on the throne said. The other frat members appeared from the shadows and formed a circle around Brad and Brock. All of them were bare-chested like Brock and looked at Brad. Brad looked around and recognized Orchid University's star athletes. Their muscular torsos glistened as if they had been oiled up. He saw two of his teammates from the football team, the three top wrestlers and some other athlete's he didn't know which sport they played. He looked up at the figure on the throne and recognized him as the captain of the swim team. He wondered why the clearly smallest guy in the room was the leader of the frat. Keith, the frat leader, stepped from his throne and looked down at Brad. "Everyone that wishes to join the noble DEXAMENI-frat needs the advocacy of a senior member. Step forward he that backs this recruits acceptance!". Brad looked around nervously, but none of the frat members moved an inch. He felt his heartbeat going up, seeing his long awaited dream shattering before his eyes. "I support his candidacy!" Brad inhaled in relief as he heard Brock's voice and felt his buddy's paw atop his shoulder. "Very well", Keith said, "You have the support you need, recruit. Now let's see if you're truly worthy of joining the noble DEXAMENI-frat!". Before Brad could react, his boxers were yanked down and he stood fully exposed amidst his fellow athletes. He felt the blood race to his face and his cheeks started reddening. He moved his hands to cover his cock but two frat members moved in and tightly held his arms at his sides. He felt Brock's left paw grab his side and steady him. He inhaled deeply as his best friend's right paw grabbed his soft cock and began stroking it. He felt his cock harden and swell inside the strong paw that clenched around his inflating shaft. Within seconds he was rock hard. He looked down and saw that his fully hard 8 incher was completely engulfed by Brock's meaty paw. He noticed the tension on the corded muscles atop his friend's lower arm as the paw kept clutching his cock. His breathing fastened more and more as he felt on the verge of orgasm. "UGHN", he groaned as Brock gave his rock hard 8 incher a final, very hard squeeze and his balls spewed out their load. Six heavy blasts shot from his cock in an arch through the air before splattering down several feet further. He felt his muscles relax but the strong grasp of the two frat members that were holding his arms, kept him upright. He sighed in relief as Brock released his softening cock and grabbed his sides with both hands to steady him. "Seven feet and nine inches far", Keith said, "He's worthy of joining our noble DEXAMENI-frat!". The other frat members cheered as their leader grabbed the chalice from the altar and moved in front of Brad. He nodded at Brock. Brad felt his buddy release his right flank and grab his half-hard cock again. "Ughn", he grunted as his cock was stroked back to hardness. His drained balls stabbed in protest as a second orgasm was milked out of them only minutes after the first. His entire body went rigid as the warm, meaty paw grabbed his balls and clenched them together. Three watery loads leaked from his nearly fully hard cock into the chalice Keith held at its end. He would have collapsed as Brock hadn't grabbed his left armpit so secure him. He looked down and saw his buddy pull up his boxers before the warm right paw grabbed his other armpit. A feeling of relief went through his exhausted body. Keith shook the chalice, held it above his head for all the frat members to see it and placed it back on the altar. He turned around and looked back at Brad. "Welcome to our ranks, Brad!", he said, "now, let's party!". The frat members howled loudly and left the chamber. Bard followed them, not caring he was in his boxers. The feeling of finally being part of the frat filled him with joy.
  12. Yeah, I know. Two chapters in one week. What the what!?!? Hahah. I had fun writing this one. Have fun guys! Jealousy and Rage: Part 13 “Troy! Get off of me!” I scream into his face. He looks directly into my eyes with hatred as he crushes me with his weight. He’s so strong. I feel weak. I hate feeling weak. This makes me angry and from this anger I draw strength. With grunt I manage to raise my arms that are trapped beneath his. The force behind me lifting pushes him off balance and I flip him onto his back and wrap my arms around his back. We’re pressed, my bare chest to his clothed one, on the ground and he shakes and groans beneath me. “Get the fuck off of me!” he says. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Have you been drinking?” I say. “What do you fucking think!?” he says and head butts me. I yelp in pain and the impact causes me to go blind for a second as I roll over onto my back. I grab my forehead and feel around for damage. None. Thank god. I quickly roll over onto all fours, feeling the damp grass beneath my fingers, and try to get up, but I immediately feel his weight on my back. “Where do you think you’re going, ass hole?” he says, wrapping his arms around my stomach and arms and putting me in a full body lock. “Me!? You’re an asshole! Why are you doing this?” I can’t move. He is still wrapped on top of me. My face is in the grass and I can barely breath because he is holding on so tightly. “I can’t believe you! I hate you so much! How could you do this to me!?” “Do what!?” I scream into the ground. “Ethan! That stuff with Ethan! I saw you two. The way you look at each other. The way he shows off for you… That’s… That’s…” “That’s what!?” “Shut the fuck up!” he says, squeezing me harder and making breathing almost impossible. It was at this point that I started to fear for my life. I need to find a way out of this before he kills me. “Troy please. Stop. Don’t hurt me anymore,” I say. My voice is cracking and I want to punch myself for being such a bitch. “I’ve barely hurt you,” he breathlessly says into my ear. “What are you going to do to me?” I say, the words barely escaping my mouth as I try to breath. He stops at the question. I don’t know what he came here to do. Maybe beat the shit out of me for betraying him or hurt me in another way… No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? His being drunk could take away some of his humanity and the result could leave me emotionally scarred for life. “I… I came here to talk to you…” he says, his grip on me loosening. I suck in a hard gasp of air and immediately start coughing. He let me go and I roll onto my back, grasping onto my stomach as I cough and suck in air. There are tears in my eyes and I tightly close them. I’m so embarrassed. I should be angry, but I’m not. I feel like a pussy. I feel his hand lightly touch my shoulder and I flinch immediately. I quickly open my eyes and look at him. He’s siting in the grass hovering above me. I see the stars shining above his head and I wonder if I’m hallucinating from the lack of air. I decide to break the silence “You want to talk?” I say. “Yes… Please,” he replies. “I really need to talk to you. “Let’s go inside.” He stands up and reaches out a hand to me. I slowly reach up to him and my body stiffens as he lifts me off of the ground. I’m still shirtless and there’s grass all over my stomach and back. He takes both of his hands and begins to brush the grass off my pecs. He slowly wipes the sweat and grime off and he is taking his time. He doesn’t look me in the eye but I watch him as he looks deeply into my pecs. I feel him stick his finger between the crack of my thick chest. His finger trails down to my abs and he trickles his fingers down them. Once he’s done with my front he walks around me and does the same to my back. I feel relaxed now. I’m not scared anymore. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry,” he says. I nod at him and turn to go into my house. He follows me and I type in the code to unlock the door. Once open I see no one is inside. No brother could save me if he gets aggressive again. Hopefully I won’t need saving. “Let’s go to my room,” I say as we walk up the stairs. We make our way into my room and as I sit on my bed he closes the door behind him. I immediately stiffen up and he notices. “Don’t worry, man. I just want to talk about something private.” He stands still by the door. “Ok, well talk,” I say. The sooner that door is open, the better my odds of escape are. “I don’t exactly understand it, but I’ll try. It’s a lot though,” he says. I don’t know where to start.” “Start with what you said outside. Start with Ethan.” I see a flash of anger as soon as I mention Ethan’s name. “Ok. Well I saw you guys swimming earlier today. I saw him flexing for you and the look in your eyes…” he says. His fists are clenched. “The way you looked at him… I just… I got so fucking mad, man. I’ve never been that angry before. I don’t know what happened! I just ran away and I was back on campus halfway done with a bottle of tequila. It didn’t even make me feel better, but I needed something to fight what I was feeling…” “What were you feeling?” “I felt… jealous. I felt so jealous. We used to have that, you know? Now it’s gone!” he says walking close to me. I keep my ground and sit still on my bed. “You have a girlfriend Troy!” “I know, but we had something! Now it’s gone! The things we used to do! The different ways we would worship each other! It’s all fucking gone and I miss it! I… I need it!” He stumbles over to the bed and I lean back. Suddenly he is cradling me. His ass is on my crotch and each arm on either side of my head. “Drunk on a Wednesday,” he says as he looks down on me. “How pathetic am I?” I don’t answer. “I miss being your bud. I miss flexing for you. Watching you flex. I miss feeling your body.” He slowly reaches down and drags his fingers over my chest and abs. His hands begin to move lower and he eventually dips his fingers into my shorts. “Troy—“ “No… I want this… and I know you do too.” He continues and pulls down my shorts. My flaccid dick flops out and he immediately grabs hold of it. “I missed this so much,” he says as he jerks me off. My dick grows in his hand and I begin to moan. “I love feeling your gains. I love your chocolate muscles so much.” He bends down and starts sucking my nipples. I gasp. I can’t believe how good I feel. “I’m getting – ugh.” He begins to stroke harder and lick his way down my abs. I’m gonna come soon. I can feel it. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says and then he wraps his pinks lips around my cock. He sucks on my dick like he was starved. Honestly, he probably is starved… starved of dick. He lifts his head and says “You’re so fucking salty!” Then continues to suck. My body is starting to buck and I can feel my climax coming soon. “Fuck Troy! I can’t hold it anymore!” I say. As soon as I do, my dick explodes into his mouth. He swallows every drop and he seems to love every moment of it. He continues to suck even after I’m done coming, but I have to push his hungry mouth away. “Please, no more,” I say. “But I want more” he says, his eyes blinking a little more slowly. I can tell that he is tired. He slowly crawls his way up to me and lies beside me on the bed. I turn on my side and look at him. “Thank you,” he says. “For?” “My first time having a guy inside me.” “I wasn’t really inside you ya know.” “I know,” he says with a yawn. “This was something new to me though. Something good.” He closes his eyes and within seconds he is snoring. I find it amazing how quickly drunk people fall asleep. I don’t know if I should wake him and tell him to go home, but I know I don’t want to, so I don’t wake him. I feel myself getting tired and I get to turn off the light. I walk over to the light switch and look over at my bed. I watch him breath slowly in his sleep. How lucky am I to have this beautiful, alpha hunk in my bed. Even if it is only for one night. I will always remember it. I flick off the light…
  13. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Hiya! I'm back. I just finished writing this so I will add the links to the previous chapters later. I need to get in bed so I can go to the gym in the morning haha. I hope you guys enjoy it. I will be posting again this week. I need to get this ball rolling!! Please feel free to comment, question, or anything else you could do. Thanks! Wednesday: Revelations Part 12 “Vonny?” Ethan says. “Ready to go for a swim?” I turn around and look at Ethan. The water flows smoothly behind him as we stand in the grass. I want to go swimming but I cannot clear my mind of what just happened with Troy. The look of betrayal on his face stains my mind. I’ve never seen that look on him before and definitely not directed at me. The look is his eyes was like wine on a white dress. Something that was once beautiful and now completely soiled. I’ve seen him angry and depressed, but not hurt, and he’s hurt because of me. This doesn’t feel real. “Bro. You ok?” Ethan says. I had been thinking in silence for a while. My eyes stared blankly into Ethan, but I didn’t see him. I only saw Troy. “We need to talk,” I say. “Ok, about what?” He smiles kindly at me. I have high hopes for his understanding, but a little bit of hesitations also. I just can’t keep this to myself anymore. “It’s about Troy?” “Yeah.” “I don’t really know how to say it all really. I just… I’ll start from the beginning I guess.” “You seem nervous, man. Just relax and tell me.” “It’s a little weird…Like sexually weird… Not exactly hetero if you know what I mean.” “Oh… Ok, I’m fine with that,” he says with a smile. I release a long held breath and my body relaxes. “Alright, let’s swim while we talk.” “Awesome!” We both make our way into the water and I begin my story. I tell Ethan about how my friendship with Troy grew over the weightlifting class and how Troy seemed to be sexually charged towards me although he had a girlfriend. I told him about how we jerked off in the shower and how Troy was so eager for physical contact or nudity but somehow made it seem normal. Well not normal, but right. It felt so right. He listened eagerly and he didn’t say a word. He looked at me understandingly the entire time and I could feel tons of weight lifting off my chest. I finish the story by telling him what he already knows. He knows Troy’s girlfriend doesn’t want Troy to lift and now that he knows about our “encounters” he can help me. By the time I am finished, an hour has passed and we are out of the water and sitting in the grass. “Wow! So this is what has been bothering you all of this time. I mean I suspected something, but this was totally unexpected!” “Yeah, it’s kind of crazy, man,” I say. “So what should I do?” “Well…It seems like Troy may be in denial. I’m sure from what you told me that he’s possibly bisexual and hasn’t experienced much with another bro before.” “I’ve figured that much, but what can I do about it?” “Well I don’t want to say confront him, because he could flip shit and deny everything. I think you should wait everything out,” Ethan says. Do you like him?” “Uh…I… I don’t know,” I say. “It’s like he’s powerful and I enjoy how he pushes me.” “Don’t I do the same for you?” “Yeah, but I don’t get surges of sexual energy when I see you.” “Well if you aren’t crushing on him, I’m assuming you both have a very strong mutual appreciation of each other’s gains or some type of muscle fetish. It’s not strictly you liking him. It’s more of a bro thing I guess. You two were just a lot closer than I imagined.” “That’s a decent way to explain it. I still feel terrible though. I feel like hanging out with you is hurting him. He saw you flexing for me and I know he’s upset. I saw it.” “But dude, I’m not like him. We’re bros and yeah we may show off for one another, but I am not trying to get in his way.” “But what does he want exactly?” “I don’t know. We need to wait for him to figure that mess out, bro. But for now let’s just do what we do. Workout. Eat. Flex. Grow. Repeat.” I smile at this. I love the idea of just eating, lifting , and growing. I’d love a life where I’d only have to focus on my bod without the trouble of life’s problems. “Sounds good to me,” I say. “You still down for that run later?” “Yeah man. I’m still down!” I look down at my phone. Wednesday April 27th 4:30 pm. School ends May 20th. That gives Troy a little over 20 days to figure himself out and hopefully come to me…with a solution that is. “Let’s get back to campus.” We get up and head over to his car. It’s funny how after all of this we still have exercise on our minds. We quickly get back to campus and head over to the gym locker room. We are both extremely chill right now. I feel like Ethan is a lot closer of a friend and I know he feels it too. The burden of secrets has been lifted. We both walk into the locker room, go into our lockers and pull out our running shorts. It’s hot outside so there’s no need for shirts and honestly what fun would wearing those be? I suddenly feel a lot more comfortable around Ethan and get the balls to pull off all of my clothes in front of him. I stand in front of my locker with my dick, balls and ass hanging out. I look over at Ethan and he does the same. I’ve never seen his cock before but fuck was I surprised. Ethan was gifted with a thick veiny cock that hung flaccid at about 7 inches. Damn! If it’s that long soft I can’t even imagine it hard. I take a hard look at his round ass and the tight hamstrings leading up to it. I know him being nude in front of me is rare so I take in as much as I can. How lucky am I to have such a hunk for a friend? I pull up my shorts and put on my running shoes and he does the same. “Let’s go, man!” Ethan says. We head outside and I immediately break into a sprint. “Whoa, man! Wait for me!” The fresh air breathes life to my already sweaty skin. The sun beams down on me with intensity and I feel the skin on my back burning. I notice Ethan’s masculine figure catching up to me in the corner of my eye. Eventually we are keeping the same pace and we continue to run on the sidewalk past the freshman dorms. My thick, meaty pecs dancing as I run. Makes me wonder if they make bras for dudes with muscled tits. I look over at Ethan and see his pecs jump with each move of his body. “You’re fast!” Ethan says. “Oh, I know,” I say cockily and with a blast of energy I push myself faster. We run past the dining hall and the smell of food fills the air. Dinner should be ready soon. We pass a couple of cheerleaders on their way out of the dining hall door and they all squeal when they see us. I love it when people react to my body. Girl or not, it is amazing being admired. After about 40 minutes we have ran a little over 3 miles and we are beat. I check my watch and it’s getting close to 6 o’clock. “Wanna get dinner?” Ethan says. “Yeah. Let’s go to The Grill.” The grill is a fast food joint on our campus. It’s located inside our campus center and they have everything from hotdogs to chicken quesadillas. “When do you want to meet up?” “Meet up? I was gonna go now.” “Now! We don’t have shirts!” “Not gonna stop me.” I say. “Oh boy. Alright. Let us sweaty, sticky men go to a public space haha,” he says. “Perfect!” I reply. We walk over to the grill. It’s an old building. It was built in the 60’s and was still pretty decent looking. The red bricks have faded and there were a few dents here and there, but we weren’t here to look at the architecture. We push our way through the revolving doors and walk inside. There’s a food counter, similar to what you see in any fast food establishment, with tv screens above it displaying all of the food choices to the left. To the right there are about 20 black round tables with 4 chairs. Each seat at each table is filled with a person and every eye is on us. “Oh fuck,” Ethan mutters. “Stay calm” I whisper as we walk over to the food counter. There is a slim, Hispanic boy working the register. He’s wearing a bright red shirt and a red hat with our mascot, Buff the Bulldog on it. He visibly swallows when he sees me and begins to fidget his fingers on the screen of his register. He looks extremely young and is most likely a freshman. He’s pretty cute too. I’d probably destroy him in bed if I hadn’t had my heart somewhere else. Did I really just think that? “How…” he swallows. “How may I help you?” he says to my pecs. He is extremely nervous and his eyes are deeply focused on my chest. He even licked his lips a little and I can’t help but smile at this. I look behind him and there’s a thick black girl in the same outfit standing behind him. Her hand is over her mouth and her eyes are wide. She is obviously enamored. I decide to have a little fun. “I’d like…” I say, flexing my pecs with every word and earning a gasp from the girl behind him. “I’d like 2 chicken wraps” flex “a small” flex “fry,” flex “and a chocolate” flex “milkshake.” He stalls. His mouth is hanging open and he doesn’t respond. The girl behind him moves forward, her eyes never leaving my body, and speaks. “I am so sorry about him,” she says as she moves him out of the way and types my order into the register. The Hispanic kid continues to stare at my chest and I chuckle. “What will your friend be having?” I turn around and look at Ethan. His face is red and I understand why. I take a peek behind him and see loads of people still looking at us. “Ethan?” I say. “Uh, I’ll have the same,” he replies his face ever reddening. “Right away!” says the Hispanic kid. His mind finally working and he and the girl rush through a door to the back to prepare the food. I turn around and look at Ethan. “You cool?” I say. “Uh… Not exactly. I feel all of the eyes on me…” “That’s good, man. They’re just ‘mirin you.” “Yeah, I haven’t been looked at like this before though,” he says softly. “I mean I have, but only by you and a couple other guys. Never 50 people.” “Well there’s 100 eyes on you and they are loving every inch of your body. Own that shit man.” Ethan smiles at this and is about to speak when the girl comes back with our food. “Here you go guys,” she says with a huge smile as she hands us white paper bags filled with food. “Thanks for coming!” I feel that she actually meant that. It’s rare that cashier actually care. I thank her with a wink and she basically falls back onto the door. We both walk out and I hear her whisper “OHMAHGAWD!” as we leave. “That was pretty amazing,” Ethan says as we finish up our food. We had been sitting outside for about 2 hours. Talking about life, the future, and how amazing it was being admired by so many people at once. “My heart beats faster just thinking about it,” he continues. “I want to do it again!” “What’s stopping us?” I say. “Nothing I guess,” he says with a laugh. We get up and throw our bags of leftover trash away. It’s a little past 8 o’clock. “See you later, bro.” I raise my fist to his and we bump them together. I’m so glad he’s my bro. I slowly make my way over to my frat house and stop when I see a dark figure standing outside the door. Could it be a brother? It can’t be. A brother would know the code to the house. Each frat has a keypad and each brother knows the code. The figure knocks on the door repeatedly and I begin to realize this person could be threatening. Its body is sagging and drooping against the door. I slowly make my way to the door through my lawn, hoping it is just Jason or anyone else who could have forgotten the code. Sadly I was wrong. As soon as my feet touch the first step the figure turns around and lunges at me, I am suddenly on my back and the weight of the figure is crushing me. My arms and legs are pinned and I look it in the eyes. “Troy?” I say, startled.
  14. Jeff the college roommate Part 4

    I know its been a while but just been busy with life. Let me know what you think. If you missed the first three here they are... Part 1 & 2 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9162-jeff-the-college-roommate/?do=findComment&comment=96313 Part 3 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9409-jeff-part-3/?do=findComment&comment=100640 JEFF THE COLLEGE ROOMATE PART 4 “Billy what is your opinion of homosexuals?” Jeff asked half timid; half afraid of the question and my answer. “Jeff, if you don’t know already, I’m gay and I don’t think there should be any special treatment either way.” As I continue to massage his traps and delts. Each group I squeeze seems tighter than the muscle before, but over time he is not so tense. “I thought so by the way you kept touching me during our first encounter. But I didn’t want to say anything to upset you. I don’t really care either way as I have gone to school with gay students that are an absolute blast to be around. But with you it’s so much better cause you don’t mind me lifting you and playing with you. Billy, don’t mean to shock you but I’m gay too. As for working out all my muscles, in one week I ensure that all my muscle get some kind of work out. I work out my grip and feet and everything. Why do you ask, Billy?” “Well, it’s just, um, do you mind if I feel or massage everywhere? I mean, Jeff, can I worship your muscles?” Jeff laughs and peels off his shirt and shorts so that he is only wearing a pair of old stretched boxers, “Sure little buddy feel away.” I laugh with him at his answer and slide off the bed and come around and straddle his thighs. I start feeling his pecs and try to put my hands around his neck, squeezing the best I can but not having much success on inflicting any kind of serious grip. I move down to his abs and start pressing them, then start light punching them. I look up at his face and he’s just smiling as I play. “Jeff, let’s test your legs?” As I slide down his right leg so that my crotch is snuggled against the top of his foot. “Leg lift, big guy. Let’s see those thighs in action.” Jeff smiles seeing how much fun I’m having and lifts his right leg high in the air and as always I go along for the incredible ride. As Jeff lifts his leg for reps, I feel his thigh. SO hard. So massive. No strain for my whopping buck 20. After about 50 reps, Jeff sets his leg down and I climb to his left leg and Jeff repeats the process. During the last set I notice Jeff’s cock has worked its way out of the briefs and is just lying there and I look at Jeff’s face. Huge grin as he watches my every move, enjoying my reaction as his cock becomes unwrapped from its bondage. I watch his cock slowly come alive and as it starts to rise, I grab a hold with both hands. Even flaccid it is about 8” long and a good 6” around. I look between Jeff’s face which has a huge grin and the cock as it grows and starts to lengthen and slowly becomes erect. The great thing that I notice, as I hold on for deer-life, is that my body is slowly being pulled up Jeff’s leg moving closer to his crotch. His cock is sliding me and Jeff just smiles bigger and bigger. Finally, it is sticking straight up and down and it has pulled me a good three feet. We just look at each other not breaking eye contact and both of us smiling then start laughing. Jeff reaches down and grabs me under the pits and slowly slides me up and plants a big kiss on me and we stay there for what seemed like heavenly forever. As we were lip locked he slid me a little higher up his abs and then slowly slid me back down. When we broke the kiss, he slowly maneuvered his legs to stand and he rose up to full height. This is when I went into full fantasy overload. Jeff let go of me and his arms where at his side; his body was at full height; and me? Well my feet where almost two feet off the ground and I turned my head to see that I was being held in the air only by the power of his cock. I was wedged very snug between his abs and his cock and not moving at all. Jeff started laughing as he saw me come to realization that his cock was strong enough to hold me with ease. “Oh my goodness; no way; it’s not possible! Is it?” I stammered. “Not tight enough for you?” Jeff asked. I felt his cock tighten and push me tighter against his body. I put my hands on his abs and tried to push back but I didn’t move. “Jeff you lifted me with just your cock. Are you telling me that your cock muscles are that strong too?” Jeff nods his head and laughs at the same time as he lets me sit there to come to grips of his power. I push one more time just to tests its strength and I don’t move. “How about I show you some more of my tricks?” Jeff asks smiling “What? I suppose you’re going to tell me or show me that it can actually do reps too?” I laugh not believing what I was saying. Jeff pulls me up out of my perch and sets me down on the floor. He kneels down and wedges the head of his cock under the waist strap. He smiles and winks, “You ready for a true Hercules feat of strength?” Without even waiting for me to hold on or get ready, he stands up and I am swaying back and forth on the head of his cock. It is pointing straight out from his body. I grab his waist to steady myself. Then I feel my body going up, I check his arms and see his hands on his hips in a superman stance. His cock is lifting me, “no way!” I mutter as his cock lifts me to its full erectness. Jeff just laughing at my reaction. Then I feel my body going back down, then back up, down and up, rep after rep by his monster muscle cock. I hear Jeff counting of the reps, 5…10…15…20 and I stop at the top of the last rep. “How’s that for a feat of strength?” Jeff grabs me under the arms again and pulls me off his head and sets me down in front of him. I just stare at his cock not really believing what just happened. His cock is still erect in the up position. I grab it and try to pull it down, but it doesn’t move. I pull with all I have and it’s not moving. I am trying to arm wrestle this monster cock not having any success with moving it at all. “Jeff, I know what you just did with me but I just can’t believe how strong your cock is. Hell there is nothing on you that I can overpower at all. This is blowing my mind. You are a muscle god and you’re my roommate.” He continues to stand there, hands on hips, chest jutting out and naked as a new born baby. At this point, I figure it’s best if I follow his actions, so I remove my harness, shirt, and pants, so that I am naked as he is and we just look at each other with huge grins. “Would you care for another ride? Have you ever had anything this big in you before?” He asks. “Not that big but what the hell let’s try.” I say scared of how it may tear me up but thrilled to try. Jeff sits on the bed and I straddle his thighs again. He starts off with strong kissing using his tongue to invade my mouth and overpower my tongue. He kisses my neck and pulls me up so he’s not bending over. We continue to kiss and fondle each other. “Let me loosen you up a little.” Jeff lifts me up sliding my cock over his abs and then he nestles it between his pecs and starts to flex them, not too hard, but hard enough to let me know I’m not in control. He relaxes and slides me up to his mouth. He takes my tool in his mouth in one swallow and start sucking like I’m a lollipop. His tongue playing or should I say wrestling with my cock and making me so freaking hard. With a popping sound he pulls me out and lift me even higher then slowly lets my hole down onto his face and his tongues invades me and plays with hole like an expert loosening me up. After about 3 minutes of his tongue play, he lifts me up and slides me down the front of him. As I get closer to his lap I feel the head of his cock at my opening. His head enters with some pain but I just grab his forearms and squeeze knowing I won’t hurt him. Deeper and deeper he goes. Five inches in and he stops letting me come to grip with the pain. He bounces me up and down a few times sliding his head almost out but then back down. On the last rep he pulls me farther down the shaft. Jeff whispers, “Almost half way in, how ya doing?” “Fine” I grunt Inch by inch he enters me, being very careful not to hurt me too bad. Before I know it, he says, “there all in, how that feel?” “Full” I say exhausted just from him entering me. His cock feels like a steel pole deep inside me. “Ok now let me show you something else.” Jeff calmly says. “What you going all the way in wasn’t what you wanted to show me?” I say slowly able to catch my breathe. So there I am, parallel with Jeff, his hands back on his hips, my feet a good two feet off the ground, my body just hanging on his cock, my hands and legs just dangling from my body. Jeff smiles and I feel my body going away from his, down, down, down I go until I am horizontal to the floor and I stop moving. I can’t believe this; I am just dumbfounded. Up, up, and up I go back to facing his pecs. “One” he says. “Oh shit” I say as the motion starts all over again. 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 12, 15, 18, and 20 reps with a buck 20. His strength is phenomenal but mine isn’t; as he reaches the 20th rep I blow all over his abs. “My turn,” he says as he grabs me with just his right hand at my waist and starts sliding me up his cock then back down. “What do you think I am your flesh light?” I ask as the motion continues and intensifies. But that is exactly what I am to this mountain of pure power. Up and down over and over, I feel his cock getting harder if that’s even possible. Then I slow down but the pumps are fiercer and impactful. Jeff throws his head back like a wild animal and roars as I feel his hot jizz filling my insides. Jet after jet pounds inside of me like a spurting fire hose. Everything goes into slow motion as his spurts subside. Jeff flops down on his bed and lays down with me still secure on his cock. Both of us breathing hard after our wonderful session. I awake and am still impaled but his cock is soft. I slide up trying not to wake the gentle giant and his cock pops out, sounding like a suction hose. I slide down off of Jeff and run to the bathroom.
  15. Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10 I'm only a little late haha. Enjoy guys! This is a long one. Check out the previous chapters if you haven't already! Comment and like too. I love your input. Wednesday: You Mirin’, Brah? Part 11 I awake to the sound of my alarm. It’s the beginning of April. School ends in May and this means I need to put my plan into action. I want to see if Ethan enjoys worship as much as I do. Being able to flex for each other and admire one another’s gains would honestly make my day. I know he won’t be like Troy. He won’t corner me in the shower or be comfortable being around me stark naked, but I don’t want that from him. For some reason I feel like that would complicate our friendship and be awkward for us. Ethan does not behave like Troy and that’s okay. I do want us to be closer friends though and I want him to know about some of the things that went down with Troy. I need his advice and I have definitely come up with a way of testing him… in my own weird way. I roll out of bed. As usual, I slept naked and with my phone in hand I make my way into the bathroom outside my bedroom door. Living in a frat house is pretty chill; none of my other bros give a damn if they see my ass as I walk the short distance down the hall into the bathroom. It has actually been a while since I’ve showered in my house, because I usually shower in the gym locker room. I walk into the bathroom and hear the water running. I also here someone singing. “—Look at my body. Look at my body. Look at my body. Don’t I look sexy?! sings the voice in the bathroom. “Jason! Is that you dude?” The voice stops singing. “That you Von?” “Yea, man.” “Asuh dude!” “Asuh!” There are three shower stalls in the bathroom. Jason is in the middle so I walk into the one on the right. I look down and check my phone. I see a message from Angelica and read it as Jason continues to sing. Angelica: Hey! Lakeside Restaurant and swimming today at 12:00. I’ll pick you and Jason up from your house. Don’t forget to bring your appetite. See ya I set my phone on the floor, close the shower curtain, and turn on the water. “Yo, Jason, you ready to chow down later?” “Yeah man!” he says. “I haven’t had real food since I moved to this campus.” We both laugh at this because our campus’ dining hall serves food about as horrible as food can get. I quickly soap up and I am done in 5 minutes. I don’t usually take long showers. I step out and look around for my towel as Jason is getting out of his shower. “Agh!” he says in surprise. “There you go flashing that sweet ass of yours again haha.” He lets out of chuckle. Like I said before, my brothers are used to it. “I forgot to bring a towel, so technically this sweet ass exposure is an accident.” I say with a wink. I look Jason up and down. He joined the fraternity a few months ago but we never got the chance to hang out because of how “occupied” I was. This boy has really grown into a man since we last wrestled, which was way before he joined the frat. He’s 18 years old, around 5 ft 10, and is much bigger than the 140 pound boy I remember. He must be 170 pounds at least by now. His thick legs are wrapped in a blue towel but it struggles to hide the big black anaconda behind it. My eyes trail up his washboard abs and to his bulbous, thick pecs. Fuck! They look to be a couple pounds each! “Dude!” I say “When did you get so damn huge?” “The weight lifting class has really helped, man. I haven’t seen you there in a while? Matter of fact, I haven’t seen Troy in a while either…” “I started working out outside of class. I needed that class time for… homework.” The truth was that the class just felt empty without Troy, but I won’t tell him that. “Well guess you have some catching up to do,” he says with a wink and walks around me to the bathroom door. “See you in a couple of hours!” I walk back to my room, still naked and wet. I find a towel, quickly dry of, and put on a pair of tight, blue, athletic briefs. I look over at the mirror on my closet door and flex my quads in the mirror. I fucking love the way they show off my thick bulge and ass. Smiling, I make my way back to my bed and I lay back to stare at the ceiling. I decided to skip my 9 am class so I have nothing to do until we go eat. I’m not feeling hungry so I just decide to stay in bed and think. My conversation with Jason made me realize how much I let my friendship drift with him. I definitely need to learn how to handle having multiple friends better. I think back on the interactions I’ve had with Jason in the past. I remember how close we were before I met Troy. Freshman and sophomore year were great. We were both little shrimps back then. I barely weighed 120 pounds. I guess we have both become big strong men. I close my eyes and let my mind drift. I start to think of crabs, fish, and clams… Oh no. I’m gonna starve to death. Damn it! I open my eyes and look across the room at my jug of Whey protein and blender bottle. My body definitely needs some fuel for growth. I jump up and grab the bottle, scoop some protein in and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I mix the water into the bottle and begin to shake it furiously. I start gulping the protein down and I look at the time again. It’s 10 am. I really need something to occupy myself with…But what? I sit down on my bed and look across the room into my mirror again. I look over every inch of my body. My thick meaty chest hovers over my 6 pack. Each rock hard mountain of abs protrude from the valleys of my gut. I look over at my biceps, now measuring about 16 inches and my eyes make their way down to my powerful biceps. “Look at you,” I say to myself into the mirror. “You’re a thick, strong, alpha male now. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” My cock twitches at what I say. I stand up and walk to the mirror. I watch my powerful legs move beneath me and my quads rippling beneath my skin. I love my body, more than I am able to describe. My right hand naturally makes its way up to my left pec and I squeeze it hard, rubbing the nipples with my fingers. “This body deserves a little worshipping,” I say quietly. I have been really horny lately. It’s a bit insatiable honestly. I quickly walk to my door and close it. As soon as the door is shut, I strip off my briefs and look at myself in the mirror. My hardening dick slowly rises up, pointing straight into the air. I flex both biceps in front of the mirror and my dick involuntarily twitches again. It begins to leak precum onto the floor. I can tell that I am already there. I flex my pecs and watch them bounce in the mirror. That alone is enough to send me over the edge. I grab my cock and slowly begin to stroke. The heavy meat throbs in my hand. I look and see the veins bulging from every inch of my manhood. A few more strokes and I’ll blow all over this mirror. I stroke once, then twice, then a third time, and I already feel my body melting as a jet of cum blast out of my cock onto the mirror. 3 more jets shoot out onto the mirror and then down onto the floor. I let out a huge gasp of air and I feel so relieved. “Boy I needed that.” I clean myself and the mirror and before I know it, it’s 12 and I’m in the back seat of Angelica’s Purple Jeep Wrangler. I am in the back with Jason who is sitting behind Zeus. The radio is blaring some random pop hit and we’re all having a wonderful time. The sun is shining just perfectly and there is not one cloud in the sky. “Me so hungry!!” Zeus screams. For those of you that may have forgotten, Zeus is a 250 pound gorilla man and food should not be denied to him. “Don’t worry Z, we’re almost there,” Angelica says as she makes a left turn. We had been driving in the city for about 10 minutes and are now nearing the edge. Soon we will be in a little section of the city the residents call Heaven. No joke. Heaven includes a few nice restaurants, the lake, and a couple docks for fishing and swimming. The reason it is called Heaven is because of the seclusion. The entire area is surrounded by trees. The little area covers a few dozen miles and is like a peninsula to the outside world. It’s almost impossible to make your way in or out without taking the one road that leads in and out of it; it’s the road we happened to be on. We drive deeper into the green of the forest and the light inside and around the car begins to glow in a beautiful shade of lime. Angelica turns off the radio and we all go silent as we soak in the quietness of the forest. All that can be heard is the engine of the jeep. “I freakin love this place,” Jason says. “I bet they call it Heaven because of how peaceful it is.” “Or the heavenly sex that goes on by the lake,” Zeus says. “Not that YOU would know about that,” Angelica retorts. “Dayum!”I say, bursting into laughter and this leads the rest of the car into hysterical laughter. Even Zeus can’t help from laughing. We finally reach our destination after a few minutes. The Lakeside Restaurant is a small but welcoming place, with the best seafood in our area. From the outside it looks like your typical diner with a few tables out front, but we know better. We all hop out of the car and quickly make our way inside. A beautiful blonde hostess is standing by the front door. She smiles graciously at us and Zeus turns a little red. I smirk at him. “Would you like to dine inside or outside?” says the hostess. “Outside please!” we all say at once. “Have a seat anywhere you want and someone will be there to treat you soon.” We go outside and have a seat at a homely picnic table. The sun shines it’s beautifully canopied green glow onto the table. It’s perfect! I sit beside Angelica across from Zeus and Jason. “Any appetizer ideas?” I say as I pick up a menu from the table. “Dude, sriracha shrimp or nothing!” Jason says with wide hungry eyes. “Anything for you big guy,” I say with a laugh. “Hey, that’s Mr. Big Guy to you.” My phone vibrates and I peak at it. It’s Ethan. He wants to go for a quick run today. I hastily text back and say that I’m with friends, but I’d happily join him later. "Who ya talking to?" Angelica says nosily. “You remember Ethan?” I say. She looks baffled. Jason's eyes flicker to mine. He knows Ethan from back when we wrestled. "Our high schools wrestled each other way back when and then we suddenly ended up at the same college together." “Oh yeah yeah yeah! I don’t talk to him much, but he was pretty hot—cool… Uh hotly cool…" she responds blushing. “What's he saying?" she asks curiously. "He’s just seeing what's up with me. We’re pretty close. He wants to go running later." “Is he your new best friend?" Zeus says. “Ehh, I don't really like to use that expression," I say. “So many people go around calling others their best friends. It has no meaning anymore. I look over Zeus’ head and see a waiter walking towards the table and holy fucking shit… It’s Troy. What are the fucking odds!! I try to maintain my posture and keep my eyes from bulging out of my head from the shock of seeing him here. Zeus looks at my face and chuckles. "What's up with your face, man?” “Oh nothing I’m just—“ “Vonny!” Troy says. My heart pauses for a second. Breath, just fucking breath you fool! “Hey man, what’s up?” I say with a weak smile. He’s wearing a tight black polo that shows off his still thick biceps and I am still amazed at how much size he has maintained. “Working. I’ve had a lot of free time so I got a job. As you probably already know, I will be the waiter for you all today,” he says this and gives us all a sweet smile. “Can I start you guys off with a drink and an appetizer?” Troy says. “Yes! Sriracha shrimp please!!!” Jason yells. “And water for all of us broke college students.” Everyone one of us, even Troy, laughs at this. We all know the struggle. Troy quickly takes our order and leaves. I feel the life quickly drain back into me. “So what is Ethan up to these days?" Jason says. “Well he’s double majoring shit and trying to get a nursing degree and a bachelors in 3D modeling/animation,” I say. “Other than that he enjoys working out, basketball and wrestling. Wrestling was actually the first thing we did when we started hanging out” Jason smiles at this because he was at our wrestling reunion. “You guys haven't seen each other in ages and the first thing you wanted to do was wrestle!?" Angelica says. "That sounds sweaty and disgusting." I laugh at this. Typical of a girl to be disgusted of something so awesome. If they only knew the rush US men got from taking each other on. I look over her shoulder to see if Troy is returning yet. I’m starving. I don’t see him but I catch a glimpse of the slow flowing lake. I can’t wait to get in the water. I wish Troy could chill and enjoy his time here like me, with me. I'll admit that. But being here with my friends is good enough for me and one day we'll rekindle our bond. I look down at my phone again and I got another message. Ethan: Where you eating brah? Me: Lakeside restaurant. Going swimming after. Ethan: Cool, let me come through! Me: Sounds good to me! “So Ethan is coming,” I say. I've never hung out with Ethan outside of the gym or wrestle mats except for eating in the dining hall. This day was getting more exciting. After a workout we usually go our separate ways. I wonder why he wants to come today. It could be that he loves the food, or that he's tight with Jason. I believe it is safe to assume that they hang out sometimes. Either way, I was curious as to what is going to happen. “Ah there he is!” Zeus exclaims as he sees Troy walking back with our water and shrimp. I keep it together this time. “Thank you, Troy,” I say. “No prob, bro. You guys ready to order? “Hell yeah we are!” Angelica screams. An hour and a half later we are all finished eating and in our bathing suits by the lake. We had our fill of crab legs and shrimp and we felt amazing. Sadly, Ethan never showed up. Jason and I race each other to the water, swimming laps around Zeus and Angelica. The evening goes by in a flash and after a while we are all out of the lake and lying in the grass nearby. “Sorry Von, it’s time to go and Ethan still isn’t here,” Angelica says. This does suck, but she’s right. “Ok, let’s go,” I say. I get up from the grass and begin looking for my clothes when a silver car pulls up into the small gravel parking lot behind us and beeps its horn. The door flies open and Ethan steps out. “Dude! Where have you been!?” I say as I walk towards him. “Sorry man! Traffic!” he says. “You guys aren’t leaving are you?” “As a matter of fact, we were,” Angelica says. “Sorry bub.” Bub? “I’m willing to stay with you for an hour, “I say. “Jason, Zeus, what about you two?” “We both have a test to study for,” Zeus says. “Hey I don’t need to study,” Jason says, “Yeah you kind of do,” Zeus says with a roll of his eyes. “Definitely next time, Von. “Okay” I say. It sucks that they all have to leave but… actually this is perfect. I can set my plan into action! They quickly put their clothes on and are driving off within 5 minutes. Ethan and I are alone then. “Got your trunks, bro?” I say. “Trunks!? You mean my speedo,” Ethan says with a smirk. I gotta show of these legs brah!” He takes off his shirt, shoes, and pants to reveal a tight blue speedo. I try to avoid gazing at his huge bulge. That is not a part of the plan. We are both standing in the grass by the lake. I’m still a little wet and in my black swimming trunks. Seeing Ethan in a speedo kind of reminds me of bodybuilding posers and with this though I put my plan into action. “You like showing off right?” I say carefully. “Depends. What do you mean?” he says. “Well, you’re basically wearing a poser. You might as well flex a bit, bro? Show off what you’ve worked so hard for.” I look at his face as I talk to him and I can see the thoughts going through his mind. “Ok,” he says suddenly. “What should do? A back flex?” He turns around and every muscle in is back fills with blood as he flexes both biceps. I see each lump of muscle along his thick traps and it only gets better when he lowers his arms and flexes his lats. The lats spread beneath him like wings and my mind is blown. “I didn’t know your back was that big man!” I say. “That ain’t all that’s big,” he says and turns around. He flexes his pecs at me. The thick balloons bounce and I can see the vascular tubes pushing fresh blood into his working muscles. “Damn!” I say. I know that if he is this comfortable showing off, he will have no problem with me opening up to him about Troy. He then flexes his right bicep and the rock of muscle is engorged. How lucky am I to have such a jacked buddy?! I look over his shoulder and I see someone looking at us. I panic a little and then I panic a lot. It’s Troy and he does not look happy! I stare deep into his eyes. He stands behind the cars in the mini parking lot and all I see is jealousy and rage out of him. But worst of all, he looks like he has been betrayed. I can basically feel it from the lake and he is 40 feet away. He suddenly turns around and leaves. “Vonny?” Ethan says. “Ready to go for a swim?”
  16. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Hi there. It's Wednesday again! As promised, after posting early last week, here is the next chapter. This one is a little short. It has to be because there is a lot to come in the following chapters and this is the beginning of it all. Like and comment anything you may be feeling or any questions you may have. I'm open to conversation. As usual the links to the previous parts are above and enjoy. Tuesday: Meaningful Distractions "I wish Clarence didn't go away for the summer... I really miss him and his jokes,” Angelica said, although oblivious to me. My mind is elsewhere. We are in the auditorium listening to a lecture for our Biology class. We both despise the class but the school requires its students to take two science courses before they graduate and we have no choice. The professor, a slender blond woman with class, drones on about cellular respiration and I haven’t listened to one single word. Angelica was talking about all the fun times we had last semester. Clarence was a friend that transferred to a new school. This college was getting too expensive for him. “Von?" Angelica says. “Yeah…he was…hilarious in Bio,” I say. As cool as Angelica is, I am struggling to find what to say to her. It was hard for me focus on her without thinking about Troy and his girlfriend. I wish Ethan were here. He seems very insightful about these things. I mean… we can’t really talk about any of the private things Troy and I did in the locker room and shower, but he definitely understands that I may be losing my friend. "Is something on your mind? You look kinda down." "What? Oh no. It’s just after the spring session, it looks like so many of us are going our separate ways. And I like what we all had. And I don't even know how I could possibly stay in touch with everyone..." In a way I had just told her my feelings towards my friendship with Troy, but she didn’t know that. It’s April and school will be ending in May. Soon school will be over and we will have the entire summer to lose touch. His internship will be in the Fall so that means I will have an entire semester without him if I don’t also get accepted into the program. An entire summer is 3 months and then the fall semester lasts 4 months. He will return for spring classes, but that’s still 7 months to lose touch and then we will be graduating. Sucks to suck right? “Hey! Don’t worry!” Angelica says. “Jason, Zeus and I will always be your friends. But remember, a relationship is two sided and you have to put forth an effort to see us too. I haven’t seen you outside of class in weeks and it sucks.” “I’ve been a little preoccupied.” “Well get unoccupied and come see us! We miss you.” Now I feel bad. I had been neglecting my friends…people I have known since freshman year for Troy, a guy I had met in gym class. Even Ethan and I were a little distanced before Troy was out of the picture and I had known Ethan since high school. There's no way I can tell Angelica all of this. She'll think I have feelings for Troy or that I want to fuck him, but it’s much more complicated than that. I honestly don’t know what I want yet and if rumors spread because of her, everything will be ruined. “What could I do to keep our friendship alive?” I say. “I’m glad you asked. I’m going to The Lakeside Restaurant tomorrow evening with Zeus and Jason. We’re going swimming afterwards. Please come!” She flutters her pretty blue eyes at me and it’s not like I was going to say no so I just give into it. “Only if you give me a ride.” I say. “Deal! Ok, let’s try to listen to the last hour of this damn lecture.” Now that she stopped talking I had my thoughts to myself again. I have been thinking about telling Ethan the secret stuff that went down between Troy and I. It would definitely help with expressing how I feel and I am sure he would be smart enough to help me figure things out. The problem is that he’s not exactly homoerotic with me nor does he seem bisexual. The only hint at him being sexually deviant in anyway is that he gets boners while wrestling but that could be blamed on the rush of testosterone from exertion. I hope he would understand and not freak out on me. I know Ethan hasn’t shown as much interest in muscles as Troy has. He is nowhere near that level. Then again, I haven't even thought about flexing with or for Ethan. I mean I have but I have never thought of doing it for real. Maybe if I push Ethan's limits and find out if he has any homoerotic elements, then I can open up to him about Troy! Hmm… I think I have a plan.
  17. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Yo, I finished up this next chapter early so I'm posting it . I planning on writing the next one and posting it on Wednesday too. This section was really fun to write. I gets pretty intense in some places and I know you guys will love it. So here it is. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Monday: Resurgence Part 9 I’m standing in the locker room. I’m completely nude, but I don’t care. For the first time I don’t care if anyone walks in and sees me naked. My body looks great so why should I care? My pecs bulge out of my chest so much that my nipples point down. My lats are so swollen that they get in the way of my biceps. My biceps are rock hard with vascular veins pumping their way down my arms. My abs are rock hard, my ass is thick and my legs are as huge as tree trunks. I look down at my erect cock and smile; who wouldn’t want this cock? The locker room door suddenly opens and I look up to see Ethan walking in. His eyes bulge out of his head as soon as he sees. I give him a cocky smile, almost laughing at the bewildered look in his eyes. He stands frozen by the door. “Uh…What’s up man?” he says. He looks a bit embarrassed. His face is turning red, but he shouldn’t be. He’s not the one without any clothing. “Just getting changed into my compression shorts,” I say as I point to the bright red shorts on the bench. I turn towards him and continue to speak. My erect dick points in his direction and I know he is trying his best not to stare. “You gotten really big, man. Way bigger than when we first met. It’s amazing.” He slowly walks into to the bench beside me and takes his bag off his back. He starts removing clothes from it, not taking his eyes off of me once. “Like what you see?” I ask. His face turns red. I feel amazing. I love having this effect on people and when it’s a bro like Ethan, it’s even more amazing. “I…I…I want to see what your muscles looked like flexed…” “Really now?” I say with a smirk. “Yes…Could you flex for me? “I’m glad you asked.” I make my way closer to him and flex my pecs. They bounce up and down and I notice his breath hitch. “Have a feel,” I say. Within a second his hand is on my hard pec. He squeezes and I flex beneath his hand. I can feel my dick getting harder. I lift my right arm and flex my bicep. His hand makes its way to my biceps and he slowly caresses his hand across it. “You’re like a rock,” he says. “It’s not the only thing that’s a rock right now,” I say. We both look down at my dick. “Yeah, I can see.” BAM!! Ethan and I both jump. The bathroom door burst open with such force that the noise echoes through the entire locker room. We both look to see who it is. It’s Troy… and he is angry. He rushes over to us, his shoulders hunched up, grabs Ethan by the arms, and tosses him across the room. “Troy!” I scream. VRRRRRRRTTT…VRRRRRRRT…VRRRRRRTT… My eyes burst open and I see the ceiling. The sun’s morning glow caresses every surface of my bedroom. My phone is ringing. It’s what woke me up. I immediately grab my phone and answer the call. “Hello?” “Yo dude, what’s up?” “Ethan? It’s like...” I check the time on my phone. “9 am.” “Yeah, well I texted you and didn’t get an answer. I saw Troy after my 8am class this morning and he says today is a good day for a little wrestling.” “Really? What time?” “He’s only free at 10:30. He has a class at 12:30 and he wants to shower and get lunch before.” “That’s a little over an hour from now! I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, Ethan!” “Well let’s go eat ASAP and meet him at the gym.” “Okay,” I say. I feel a sharp pain in my groin and look down at my swelling cock. I’m rock hard from my dream. I can’t ignore it either. “Give me 20 minutes to get there.” “Aight, cool. See ya man.” “See ya.” I hang up the phone and my hand is immediately on my dick. I usually sleep nude so it was easily accessible. Tossing the blanket to the side, I hastily begin tugging at my ever swelling meat. My body is craving the satisfaction of a good cum and I can already feel the energy building up in my body. I feel the energy flow from my cock up into my chest and my breathing gets heavier as this familiar spark of energy rushes through my veins. My hand continues to stroke even faster. Precum begins to leak from my cock onto my lower abs. The veins in my dick protrude as my blood pumps harder. I’m getting close. I’m moaning now. I can’t control myself because of how good I feel. The pressure in my nuts rises, the tension getting stronger and stronger and suddenly I burst. I suck in a large gasp of air as streams of cum begin to shoot out of my dick. My back arches as one jet, then two, and then another three jets of cum shoot out of my dick. The first shoots over my head onto my pillow, the second onto my shoulder and the last three onto my chest. My arm drops and I start to relax. “Fuck,” I say breathlessly. It’s been a while since I came this much. My breathing is slowed and more relaxed now so I grab the shirt I took off last night to clean the splattered cum off my chest. Thoughts of my dream start to come back to me. I imagine Troy throwing Ethan again and my chest aches. I could never see those two hating each other. Why was Troy angry and what does it mean? I have a bad feeling…a feeling like something horrible could happen, but I don’t know what could cause it to happen or why it would happen it all. Whatever may happen, I’m sure it has something to do with an altercation between Ethan and Troy. I look at the time on my phone. I have 10 minutes left to get dressed and then go meet Ethan. I go to my closet, put on some jeans and a T-shirt, and pack my backpack with my singlet. Then I’m out of my room and out of my frat house in a flash. “Bro, what’s on your mind?” Ethan says. We had been eating for about 10 minutes and our conversations had been shortened by periodic silences caused by me being lost in thought. He jerks me out of my thoughts and I look at him startled. “Nothing man. I’m just thinking of a dream I had.” “What was it about?” “Uhh… Just school stuff. I dreamt that I failed a test in my criminology class and then I had to drop out of school because I couldn’t finish my Criminal Studies major and then I died…” “Whoa, man! It was just a dream! None of that will actually happen.” Whew! He fell for it. There is absolutely no way I am telling him about the violent part of the dream. Maybe one day I’ll tell him about the worshiping. I love muscle worship, but I don’t know if Ethan does. Not yet. “I know. I’ll get over it. So how was your night?” I say as I scoop scrambled eggs into my mouth. I want the conversation to change. “Well after basketball yesterday I showered, ate dinner, and just chilled in my room. It was a pretty laxed evening. Not to be too personal, but every time I exercise I get a rush of testosterone so you can figure out what happened when I got alone in my room.” I laugh at him not so subtly admitting that he masturbated. “Bro, trust me,” I say. “I totally understand. This morning was pretty hard for me… wait I didn’t mean that! Shit!” Ethan spits out the milk he is drinking and we both burst into laughter. Ethan even ends up coughing a little. “Dude, I’m sure you said what you meant. I bet you were pretty hard,” Ethan says with a wink. This just puts me in another uncontrollable fit of laughter. It’s moments like these that I believe Ethan wouldn’t mind at all if I asked him to flex for me or vise-versa. Before we know it, it’s time to go wrestle and Ethan and I make our way over to the gym from the dining hall. We head over to the locker room as soon as we enter the gym and I begin to remember my dream again. I shrug off the thoughts. There’s no way that will happen. I open the locker room door to see one single person in the room, Troy, and he’s standing completely naked. He still has the round, full ass that I remember. His back is turned to us Ethan and I as he rummages through his locker. I look over to Ethan who seems pretty chill. Nothing unusual about a naked guy in the locker room right? He turns around and sees us. “Vonny!” he says. He gives me a huge smile and begins to walk over to me, still nude. His dick flops around as he comes near and I freeze up. He brings me into a tight bear hug and all I can think of is how strange this must look to Ethan, but this is typical Troy. He still feels as firm and strong as he did before. I guess muscle regression takes a little longer for him. “How have you been, bro?” I say as he lets go. “Hanging in there?” He looks over to Ethan. “What’s up, Ethan?” He walks over to Ethan, still naked, and gives him a handshake. “Nothing much, man,” Ethan says nervously. “I’m ready to kick both of your asses though!” I guess that nervousness was temporary. “Oh, really?” Troy and I both say. “Then let’s put our singlets on and wrestle!” I say to Ethan. We quickly change. Troy puts on his tightest grey compression shorts and a tight grey compression shirt. Ethan sports a dark blue singlet and I a black one. Once we are dressed we make our way over to the mats. “And so the fun begins,” says Troy. “Ethan, you and I go first. Winner takes on Von.” He moves his way to the mat and Ethan takes his position in front of him. I watch as the two beasts go at each other. Troy seems to have the upper hand. He’s about 30 pounds heavier than Ethan. I remember him saying he was 170 pounds in the past, but I have no clue how much mass he has lost since then. He is still strong though. He flips Ethan onto his back and slams him on the floor. I hear the breath leave Ethan’s body, but he doesn’t give up. He slips from beneath Troy and latches onto his back. Troy struggles beneath Ethan’s weight and lets out a deep grunt, his face turning red from the pressure. I watch in amazement as these two monsters go at each other and I feel the familiar surge of energy in my groin. “You can’t beat me, bro!” Troy says. He flips onto his back with Ethan on it. Ethan lets out a loud puff of air and he lets go. “Damn!” he says. Within a second Troy pins Ethan down again. I watch him struggle beneath him, the sweat dripping down his face. It’s nice to know that Troy still has his strength. After a few more rounds, Troy comes out as victor and it’s my turn to go up against him. “I thought you were top dog, Ethan!” I say to taunt him. “Guess today just isn’t my day, man,” he says. I look down and see a hard bulge protruding through his tight singlet. I smirk at it. “Alright,” Troy says pointing at me. “Your turn!” He looks at me with such determination. It has been so long since I’ve seen his eyes this bright. “Let’s go! Bring it” I say, edging him on. I move to the mat and suddenly he is on top of me. His thick pecs connect with mine and I feel his arms wrap around my back. His grip is strong and there is nothing I can do to break out. I miss how powerful he was and it seems that his strength hasn’t wavered at all. He is too strong, even for me and my body is repeatedly slammed and pinned to the ground. I’m amazed and in no way upset by his display of power. After a few rounds I am sweaty and tired, but Troy seems even more pumped. I can tell he misses this. He must miss exerting himself and feeling powerful like he is now. I feel a little sad for him. After he is finishes whooping me, we towel off. “That was the most fun I have had in a while,” Troy says to me and Ethan. “You’re telling me,” I say. “This is great!” I finally have my bro back. I feel that Ethan, Troy and I could be bros for life. “So Von, you wanna go for a workout? “says Ethan. “It’s only 12:00 and I don’t have class for a couple hours.” “That sounds great man,” I say. “You heading to lunch Troy?” “Yup, I’ll see you guys around.” He fists bumps us both and we separate. Ethan and I walk into the weight room and Troy out the gym door. We make our way over to a weight bench by the window. “So Ethan, I noticed you were a little happy down there earlier?” I say teasing. “Bro!” he says embarrassed. “You know how things get in the heat of the moment. Popping a boner is—“ He suddenly stops speaking. He is staring out of the window. I look in the direction he is looking and see what he sees. Troy is outside of the gym and he is yelling loudly at a girl in front of him. His back is turned to us and I can see the girl’s face. She has curly strawberry blond hair, freckles and glasses. It’s his girlfriend, Terri, and she is beyond pissed. They don’t notice us through the window, but I can hear their every word. “I told you never to go here again! You know I don’t want you looking like a fucking freak, Troy!” Terri says and begins to storm off. “I wasn’t working out, babe!” Troy cries. “I was wrestling with my friends!” He begins to follow her and their voices begin to fade as they walk away from the gym. “Wrestling!? Who wrestles!? I know that’s a lie. I know you are covering up and you were really in the weight room.” “But I fucking wasn’t!” “Don’t lie to me! Why can’t you do this one thing for me Troy!?” He speaks but he’s too far away to hear now. I stand beside Ethan in shock. I never imagined their relationship so…fiery. Ethan and I just look at them as they walk away. “What a bitch,” he says.
  18. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Guess what day it is?? Wednesday! and that means another chapter! I'll try to keep it up and post every Wednesday. It has been very convenient with my Summer schedule. I am estimating about 7ish more chapters in the future and then a possible spin off. Please enjoy and as usual, read the first parts if you haven't. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Sunday: Recreational Sports Part 8 It’s 3:30 when Ethan messages me to meet him at the gym. I quickly change into a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top. It’s always nice to show off your bicep gains, especially after arm day. I walk from my house to the gym. The sun coats me in a blanket of heat. I immediately start to sweat and I can’t wait to make it to the gym. I see the building in front of me and I notice a head of black hair and a thick muscular back walking in the same direction towards it. “Yo Ethan!” I yell. “Wait up bro.” He stops in his tracks and quickly turns on his heels. A smile is already on his face. “Sup dude,” he says. “Ready for some b-ball?” I quickly catch up to him now that he has stopped walking. “Yup. I’m ready to kick your ass,” I say and laugh. “How was the Spring Festival?” “Hot as Hell and don’t think I have forgotten about your “ass kicking” comment. The festival was interesting. Plenty of great food. I ran into an old friend of yours too.” “Who?” I knew the answer before I had even asked. “Troy, and boy what a conversation we had!” “What? Tell me, man!” We made our way into the gym and are approaching the basketball court. “Okay, okay!” he says. We sit by the wall near the basketball court and he begins his story. “So, I was at this food stand that sold strawberries when I noticed he was standing beside me. He saw me too so he approached me…” Suddenly Ethan stopped talking and just stared at my face. “Dude, what happened?” “Haha, I’m just seeing if you are paying attention.” “Yes, I’m paying attention! Fuck!” “Okay ok lol,” he says this with a smile. I’ll add “love of torture” to his list of redeemable character traits. “So he says to me, ‘Oh you’re Vonny’s friend that wrestles right?’ and I can tell that he is checking me out as we talk, dude. I swear his eyes were rubbing me down.” “That does sound like Troy,” I say smiling. I miss the way his eyes used to admire me. If only he could see me after all these weeks. “I decided to be a bit nosy and prod so I asked him if he still trains with you.” “What!? You already know that his girlfriend banned him from working out!” “I know, but I wanted to see what his opinion on his situation was and if he would tell me anything at all.” Smart. When the hell did Ethan get so smart? “So what did he say?” “He told me he didn’t work out with you anymore because he was so busy with the last few weeks of school.” “That’s a huge lie,” I say. “I know,” Ethan says. “It really sucks that he feels that he needs to lie about it.” “He probably lied because he’s embarrassed. I would be.” “After that he asked me about what I had been up to since he last saw me wrestle you. So I told him I had been to the gym with you and man his eyes lit up so much!” “Really?” “Yeah, it was like a mix between excitement and jealously. Like maybe he didn’t really know what he was feeling.” “That’s also typical of Troy.” “So I go on prodding and I ask him if he wanted to play basketball or wrestle at the least.” “What did he say?” “He said yes. Sports technically don’t count as bodybuilding so he wants to give it a go, but under one condition.” “And that is?” I say. “He wants you to be there,” Ethan replies. “So that means—” “You get to hang out with your buddy again and while you won’t be getting pumped at the gym, you still haven’t lost your friend!” “Shit, Ethan, you’re amazing!” “Yeah I am. Now let’s play some basketball, man!” He jumps up to grab a basketball off of a rack and tosses it to me. I quickly catch the ball and he starts to strip off his shirt. Ethan’s thick pecs hover like a shelf above his eight pack abs. My eyes make my way down his muscled obliques and to his v line. He’s ripped and vascular opposed to my thick and stocky look. I haven’t stopped staring at him since he took off his shirt and he notices. He slowly walks towards me and we are standing a few inches apart. “Like what you see?” he says. I remember when Troy asked me that once. “Huh? Oh… Uh I’m just wondering how much you weight. You’re ripped, dude,” I say. I hope I saved myself. I don’t exactly know where Ethan stands sexually and I don’t want to ruin our friendship over something as dumb as me admiring his body. “I weigh 145 pounds, bro. What about you?” “I’m 155.” “What!? You don’t look like it!” I would say 140 at the least!” “You haven’t seen me bare all of my muscle,” I say. "So how would you know?” “True, true. Take off your shirt and show me then.” I freeze up. That was a bit unexpected. I just stand there and look at him. “Go ahead then,” he says. “Aright then.” I try to speak nonchalantly, but honestly I am a little excited to see what he thinks of my progress. I slowly begin to peel off my shirt as he watches. Once it is off I remember that I am standing in the middle of an indoor basketball court and I am immediately conscious of 2 other students playing basketball on the court parallel to ours. I nervously watch them as they play. “Damn, dude!” Ethan says. “You’re thicker than I thought!” He then reaches up and softly connects his fist with one of my pecs. His eyes widen as the firmness of it. I’m not gonna lie, I was flexing a bit. Probably because of the cold. I continue to watch the two students playing basketball. One of them, a thin Asian girl, has noticed that we both have our shirts off and stops playing. She points for her friend to look at us and I am even more self-conscious now. Ethan sees where I am looking and turns around. The two girls immediately look away embarrassed. “Looks like you have some admirers, bro.” He says this while he continues to stare at my body. “Nah, I think they are looking at the both of us,” I say nervously. “Oh I don’t know. They were looking at us until your shirt came off. I mean look at you. A thick, juicy piece of smooth alpha male chocolate. I bet they want a bite.” He says this and winks and me and I am beyond surprised. I don’t even know how to react, but I acknowledge that he described me as smooth chocolate. No one has ever described my skin that way before and it makes me laugh. “Smooth chocolate?” I say. “Really?” I can’t help myself from laughing. “Hey man! I’m just describing how good your muscles look in contrast to your skin.” “I know, I know. Thanks. I don’t really see myself as huge, but at the same time I want to be more lean. It’s confusing.” “Trust me I can see that you are huge. You are stocky and beefy looking. That’s hot, man. Now let’s play some ball!” Hot huh??? We start playing basketball and luckily we took off our shirts because we are already sweaty after 15 minutes playing. Ethan is really good at basketball. Well, at least he is so much better than I am that he seems really good. As we play Ethan begins to speak again. “Oh right so I just remembered something else Troy said.” He dribbles around me and goes for a shot. It bounces off the rim and I catch it. He immediately rushes in front of me in an attempt to block my shot. “What’s that?” I say. “He said he was preparing for an internship to Superset City. Bro, I was so confused when he told me this. If he can’t workout, why is he going to torture himself in the biggest fitness capital in the world?” I go for the shot. I make it and Ethan catches the ball. “I know about that internship. He asked me to sign up and see if I could be his roommate.” “Did you?” Yes, but they haven’t responded yet.” “Well if they respond,” he says as tries to rush past me. His sweaty chest bumps up against mine, the two slabs of thick meat make a wet smacking noise as they make contact and he slips around me. “What will you do?” “I know I will go and I guess we will be roommates.” Ethan makes the shot and catches the ball. “It would suck to not be able to lift every day with him though. I don’t understand why he is still going, but I don’t know if Troy wants to be my roommate anymore.” “Well, the best thing you could do is ask,” Ethan says. I guess so… but why Troy would go to a city that revolves around working out. Does his girlfriend know? Is he unwilling to give up such a great opportunity? I have so many questions. What exactly is going on with Troy?
  19. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Guess what? I'm back and I have plenty of twist and turns coming! Sorry for taking so long. I had to plan and I was pretty busy. Technically I still am but I will be posting once a week on Wednesdays. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Saturday: The Void Part 7 It has been over two weeks since Troy and I last spoke of him quitting working out. We never hung out outside of fitness related activities to begin with, so I found myself with a huge problem. Working out alone has been lame and I wanted him to be in the gym with me. Something he does not. I still want to be his friend too. He is my bro, but how do we maintain our relationship if the one thing we bonded over isn’t allowed anymore? How can I even speak to Troy if it isn’t about gains, protein, or a gym pump? How do I be his friend while trying to ignore the one thing we bonded over? “Von, are you listening?” Ethan says. “Sorry man. I’m just a little distracted,” I say. It’s 5:30 and we are in the dining hall getting out fill of baked chicken and pasta. You can never have enough protein and carbs. “You work out today?” “No.” I would go to the gym today eventually. I just had no motivation to go just yet. Going alone sucks and now I usually wait to go at night when the usual lonely people go. “Then maybe you should go and blow off some steam.” “That probably won’t work,” I say. “Well how about a little wrestling to take your mind off of things? He says this with a huge smile. Wrestling is his favorite past time. “That actually doesn’t sound too bad, but I still need to workout.” “Well you will be at the gym. Just workout afterwards, dude!” “What about you bro? Don’t you workout? I know you didn’t just wake up swelling like a beast!” “Of course I workout man!” he says and laughs. “I wouldn’t have much time to workout though. I have a night class.” “How about this? We figure out a time to wrestle and lift. I’m in a desperate need of a workout partner.” “And you want it to be me?” he says, eyes widening. “Dude, we could destroy the gym together,” I say laughing. “Alright then. Let’s do it, bro! My night class ends at 9pm every night.” “Let’s go then. You’ll need a pick me up afterwards I bet.” “Right!” he says this with his eyes flashing with joy. “This is great man. I always go to the gym alone but now I won’t have to. Don’t you go with someone already? What’s the kids name? Tony… Trae…” “Troy,” I say silently. My elated mood drops a bit and Ethan notices. “What’s up? Why are you down suddenly?” I’m surprised that he asked. Ethan and I usually don’t talk about feelings. Our conversations usually involve who is going to get beat down first on the wrestling mat. I look him straight in the eye and I see that he genuinely cares. No, bull shit either. Should I tell him? “Uhh… Troy is taking an extended break from the gym,” I say. “Extended as in…” “Extended as in his girlfriend has banned him from working out for the rest of his life and I lost one of my best bros.” Ethan pauses. I can see his mind calculating what he wants to say. His eye flicker in his head and eventually his eyebrows arch into two pointed angled. He is angry. “Well fuck that!” he says. “What jerk of a girlfriend takes something so great away. Working out is an amazing experience that everyone should enjoy!” “I know…” “Like… Damn it… Troy is huge as fuck. That dude is gifted and to throw it all away just so he could keep boning. That’s horrible!” “I know. Now I usually work out alone” “Don’t you take a gym class?” “Yes, but it’s only twice a week and honestly those guys will never be as swole as Troy. He was a bit special.” “Sounds like you had a bit of a crush on him.” “Naw man! It wasn’t that! It’s just. I really admired him.” I say. I’m fighting to find words. “I wanted to be like him and it sucks that he’s giving up.” “You really think I can replace such a beast?” “You are a beast, man!” “I don’t see it.” “Trust me man. You got what it takes.” He motions to open his mouth but stops. I can tell he is thinking. “Alright, let’s do this, bro.” he says and reaches across the table to give me a fist bump. I reach up, my fist connecting with his. “And so starts a new path to gains.” I say with a smile. “What are you up to tonight, bro?” “Nothing. I could actually go for a good workout tonight. Want to go at 6:30?” “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll head back to my frat house and change and I’ll see you there.” “Cool.” The clock soon strikes 6:30 and I find myself in the gym with Ethan. We decide to work biceps and shoulders and it is amazing. We start with preacher curls and I am mesmerized by the sheer size of Ethan’s biceps. He is wearing a tight blue compression shirt and his biceps bulge through the sleeves like boulders. I can see each dip and curve in his thick arms before he even begins doing curls and once he starts his biceps immediately begin to swell with the rush of blood. “Damn man!” I say. “Your arms are so fucking jacked.” He looks at me and turns a little red. He continues to curl the 70 pound bar with ease and I just watch in admiration. “Dude, your chest is the equivalent of my biceps. I wish I had those thick pecs, but you already know that man haha.” After we finish preacher curls we move on to hammer curls. I grab two 35 pound dumbbells and he grabs two 45s. “You going in strong man?” I ask. “Nope, this is just where I start.” Fuck. “Man, I need to be where you are.” “Give it a few weeks and you will be just as big as me.” We work our way through and everything moves so smoothly and naturally. It was a whole new and completely awesome experience. Ethan is just as strong as Troy and while he does not have the competitiveness within him that Troy had, he has his own thing going on. He’s a cool dude and I’m glad he decided to give this a shot. After we finish working shoulders we are sweaty and in desperate need of showers. We walk side by side out of the gym and I look at the locker room door. So many memories flash through my head. Memories of Troy walking around nude without a care in the world. Memories of me hearing him cum in the shower. Memories of him grabbing my cock. That’s definitely a complicated one… “Von!” “Huh. What’s going on?” “You zoned out there man.” “Sorry dude. I was thinking about some stuff.” We continue our walk out of the gym. Guess we won’t be having the locker room fun Troy and I had. It’s fine though. I did not expect it from him. “You want to meet tomorrow to wrestle or play basketball, bro?” “I’m down for that. What time?” “Tomorrow is the Spring festival so sometime after 3.” “Alright, I’ll see you then man.” We are outside now and I’m about turn to walk away when Ethan reaches up and grabs my bicep. He gives my right arm a nice hard squeeze and smiles. “I can already fell those stones growing, man. You may be able to dominate me physically one day.” “You mean how I already do in wrestling!” I say laughing. “Hey, you know I’m stronger than you when we wrestle!” “Yeah, but I’m faster.” “For now. I’ll make sure to thicken you up a bit,” he says this with a cocky smile on his face, turns away, and walks off to him room. Maybe he isn’t so different from Troy.
  20. Blood Brothers

    I was asked to post some of my older stories recently and am obliging by providing the ones I (a) still have on file and (b) were specifically requested. This was the original Blood Brothers story (Books 1 and 2) I posted many years ago on the old site. There is the beginnings of a Book 3 but I was gearing it up to be a Dark Tower of sorts by drawing together all of my other stories. For those who have patiently read the 100,000+ words I have posted in this genre over the years, you'd notice they all take place in the same universe, often referencing each other in some form. That became much too large an undertaking for the tastes of this site (as I started spending time on character development and plot vice muscle growth). Anyway, I haven't edited the story below since originally posting it so my apologies if it comes across as amateur...I was, after all, in my early twenties when I first jotted it down... CHAPTER 1 The first thing I saw was Casey’s hat fly into his own lunch. Then I heard laughter; not the friendly kind. Casey’s head was completely bald. He didn’t even have eyebrows. Apparently that was funny to the two fifth graders standing behind us in the cafeteria. There was no confrontation; the two abusers just went along their way. When I turned back to Casey, his normally pale face was a deep red and I could see the swelling purple veins at his temple. He said nothing, simply swallowed what he was already chewing before he took his soggy and corn-covered baseball cap out off his tray and began a mostly vain effort to clean if off with a napkin. I didn’t know what went on in his head and years later I would still think back to that moment, wondering why I did nothing about it. There were other moments I saw him tormented, I’m sure, but they have since faded into the glass haze of the past. Those few seconds, however, were somehow chosen by my brain to represent all the bullying and indifference a child went through when he was dying of leukemia. “He’s very sick” my mother told me months earlier when I complained that Casey wasn’t playing mini-mite football with me that season. I put the pads on my shoulder and fastened them while my mom held the practice jersey. “When will he get better,” I had asked. My mother looked at me with an expression I would later register as both adoring and sad. I didn’t know then how close Casey came to dying that fall. I knew what leukemia was but only in those partial truths which populated the world of a nine year old boy. It made you tired, it made you pale, and it made you lose your hair. But, like any cold or flu, I assumed you woke up one morning feeling better. “Hopefully soon,” she said in reply then put my jersey on the bed next to me and walked away. Casey and I had been friends since birth, a result of a close friendship our respective mothers had shared since they were in college. We were both active kids and my memory is speckled with bike rides through clay gorges and romps through tangled woods that our mothers would condemn and our fathers would applaud. I was always a little faster, a little taller. We were always on the same teams when we got old enough to start the annual round-robin of sports a kid is encouraged to play. Flag (then tackle) football in the fall; baseball in the spring; soccer in the summer. Juvenile athletics seemed specifically geared to ensure a snotty-nosed brat was exhausted by nightfall. The fact that their parents had the rare chance to communicate with an adult other than their spouse seemed to be a nice touch as well. Nine year olds base their reality on a limited and narrow history, and that history told me that Casey should be carpooling to practice today. It wasn’t until his hair began to fall out and he started feeling tired all the time that the seriousness of the situation began to register. Another sharp memory from that time put Casey and I in the backyard while our mothers sat on the back porch. I remember Jeannine, Casey’s mom, starting to cry and was quickly mimicked by my mother. Very few things affect a child stronger than seeing their mother cry. It diminishes their invincibility. A flash of anger swept through my body as I tried to listen to why my friend’s mom was making mine upset. “Casey,” I said sternly as I caught a word in their conversation. “What does terminal mean?” Casey stopped what he was doing and looked up at me from beneath a bare brow and scalp. There was a sly twinkle in his eye that later made me wonder what he knew of his future. “It means I’m getting on a train,” he said with a smile. I took it at face value. On the way home my mother told me they were taking Casey to a special clinic in Jacksonville. It didn’t go over well. I don’t remember much about the weeks leading up to his move but I remember him saying “see ya later” as he walked into his parents’ house on the way home from school. There was no cliché wave through the window from the back of the minivan as I chased his car down the street. Just a “see ya later” we weren’t sure was true. I lost contact with Casey but my mom would give me periodic updates she garnered from his mom. He was going through some very experimental chemotherapy on his blood. Neither of us knew much of what that entailed or meant but it didn’t sound like Casey and his family knew either. “But what’s important is that he’s alive,” she said cheerfully a few months after he left, which was the summer after fourth grade. A few months later my mom came in with a huge smile on her face. “He’s cured,” she said excitedly. I felt profound relief but could only ask when he was coming home. Her face dropped slightly before saying, “They’re going to keep him at Mayo for some tests. He didn’t respond to the tests exactly as expected.” “What does that mean?” I asked. She never answered. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know. My life moved on. Fifth grade started and ended. I went through middle school and grew into a young adult. At some point I realized I was athletic and got really into sports. At another point I realized I was good looking and got really into girls. It was the summer before ninth grade that I started lifting weights and was excited how well my body took to them. After a few months of using my dad’s basement equipment I developed a nice little six pack and had a nice bounce to my pecs. Little did I know then that it took more than pushups, and sit-ups, and some curls to go through a full body workout. But when your body comes from nothing, it responds to everything. By the time I started ninth grade, I was a mid-level stud. Nothing too special but I had a good enough mix of looks, athletics, and social stamina to made me popular enough. I played freshman football and learned what real weight training was like. The defensive coordinator, Coach Rodriguez (or Coach Rod) saw my interest in weights and took me under his wing. The team called him Coach Roid behind his back in part because of his sporadic tendency to go ballistic on a player doing something he considered brainless and also because he was 250 pounds of iron-hard muscle. “Just wait until football season is over, boy,” he said with a mischievous grin. “That’s when the real training begins.” I was excited and I looked forward to the beginning of the spring semester like it was Christmas. That didn’t mean I was stagnant through the first half of my freshman year. That first semester of high school I went from 140 to 150 and kept that six pack I was so proud of. One afternoon in mid-December, I came home after school and opened the door to find my mom sitting with Jeanette at the kitchen table. The two of them stopped their conversation and both turned to me. “Oh my, how you’ve grown,” Jeanette said with a wide smile. She got up and went over to hug me; I returned the favor. “Why you’re as tall as me now and it looks like you’ve been getting some exercise in too.” I was suddenly very conscious of the too tight shirt I was wearing. I liked the stares it got in high school hallways but it was kind of embarrassing when family and other adults noticed. “Casey will be going to school with you next semester. You think you could show him around? It’s been so long since he’s been here.” A flood of questions wanted to erupt from my mouth but seemed to be jammed in my throat. “Sure” was all that could escape. “Great,” she said and I suddenly noticed touch of sadness entering her eyes, and something else. The woman was exhausted. “He’ll be so glad to hear that. Maybe he could come by tomorrow?” I nodded, unsure why I was having trouble speaking. She nodded back and looked to my mom. “Well, Debra, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later. It’s so good to see you again.” My mom said something similar and led her out. Once the two of them were alone, she came to the living room where I was sitting on the couch flipping channels. “Kind of a lot to take in, huh?” she said at my back. I shrugged in the way which infuriates adults trying to get information from their children. “I guess so,” I said back, not turning around. Mom sighed, forever patient, and sat next to me, then took the remote from my hand and turned off the TV. “We need to talk about Casey, sweetheart.” I turned, eyebrows raised. She took it as acquiescence. “He’s still very weak,” she said sadly. “Whatever they did to him cured his cancer but has severely limited his strength and endurance. It sounds like he really needs a friend right now. I’m hoping you could be that friend.” I thought of the hat being knocked off Casey’s head and into his lunch; how I had done nothing while my friend’s emotions boiled. Something inside of me resisted getting to know Casey again; I had a life and was really enjoying it. Did I want a sickly former friend fallowing me around? The shock that cold final thought sent through me forced the words out of my mouth. “Of course.” Our parents wasted no time: the doorbell rang the following afternoon. I was working out in the basement, dressed in a ribbed tank top and gym shorts. Standing on the other side of the door as I opened it was Casey. I recognized his face immediately but that was pretty much it. Although I knew Casey for eight years before he got sick, I remembered him only the way he looked those last six months. His dark blond hair had returned and he wore it like a mop on his head. What I remembered as grey eyes were now blue. He was also tall, taller than me I was surprised to find out. He’d always been the shorter between us, if not by much. He was slim but not sickly as I’d imagined. He actually looked healthy. “Hey, man,” he said with a forced half grin. His voice was deep. I for some reason expected the same nine year old voice.. “Hey,” I said back. We both stood there for a moment, shuffling feet. Then Casey said something that probably set the rest of their lives on the path it did. “Nothing like having our moms set us up like we were going on a date, huh?” I laughed genuinely and suddenly felt like everything was back to a normal too long ago to remember clearly. “I know. My mom acted like she was asking me to take the ugly girl to the prom.” The other side of Casey’s mouth finally completed the smile. “Awe, at least she’d put out,” he said, neither one of them really knowing exactly what that meant. “Come in,” I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there. “You working out?” he asked, his eyes shining. I looked down, realizing the colder air of the first floor had covered me in sweat. “Yeah,” I said. “Football season just ended and I’m trying to pack on some weight for next year.” “Still play football?” he asked, genuinely interested. I nodded as he followed me down the stairs to the basement. “Yeah, they want to send me to varsity next year so Coach Rod says I need to be at least 170 when the season starts.” We made it to my dungeon of a basement. My dad’s “gym” consisted of a weight bench, a bowflex, and an EZ curl bar with some plates…none of which my dad used. My mom was just happy to see the “rusty metal get some dusting.” I started putting some weights away, suddenly very conscious of what my mom told me yesterday. I looked at him standing tall and lanky surrounded by a room full of iron. Sometimes boyish impertinence overcomes social expectations: “You don’t look sick,” I said bluntly. “I don’t feel sick,” he replied just as bluntly. A pause. “I’m not sick.” “Mom says you can’t do any activity,” I retorted. He shrugged. “Not supposed to. My body can’t take it.” “What did they do to you?” I asked softly. He sat down on the bench, brushing hair from his eyes with his hand, eyes looking inward. “I don’t know much,” he said finally. “I remember what they said they were going to do but I don’t remember when they actually did it. They put me in a cold coma and circulated blood from my body into some sort of machine that introduced an enzyme which was supposed to kill the cancerous cells.” “I guess it worked,” I said simply. He looked at me patiently. “They said I had days left to live. That the cancer had metastasized to my organs and bones. There was no hope,” he said calmly. “I was prepared to die.” Not a fan of dark moods, I said what came naturally. “Sorry the docs let you down, buddy,” I chuckled and quickly changed the direction of the conversation. “But why were you gone for so long?” Casey sighed. “I was cured within six months but apparently I was reacting to the treatment strangely. That’s the part I don’t remember very well. I thought I handled all those stress tests fine; I felt better than ever. I was gaining weight back and everything. But the doctors told me that I failed them and that I had to minimize any activity.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with some pills. “I have to take these three times a day and avoid any physical exertion.” He smiled. “They taste like death.” “What do they do?” I asked. “They supposedly keep my body from falling apart. Exercise in a bottle my doctor said.” I was intrigued. “Do they work?” I asked and Casey surprised me by taking off his shirt, revealing the body of a healthy teenager. He was by no means as built as I was. Although couple of inches taller than my 5’7” I probably still outweighed him by a few pounds. But for someone who apparently never exercised, he looked pretty good. “You been cheating, Casey?” I asked with a grin. My friend shook his head. “No. I haven’t had a chance to. I’ve been on ‘round the clock surveillance for years. In fact, this is the first time I can remember being away from doctors and parents at the same time.” I looked at the pills in his hand. “Um, Casey,” I began nervously. “What would those pills do to someone like me? Someone who works out?” My friend shrugged nervously and looked at the baggy. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “They never told me what they are.” He paused and looked at me seriously. “Not sure if I like where this is going.” Damn, I thought. “Dude, just one. You take them three times a day, every day. What would one do? It’s not like it’ll kill me. I’ll take one, you can help me finish my workout, and we’ll do something else.” Casey looked back at the pills and then proved many parents right when it comes to estimating the decision-making skills of their young teen. “All right,” he said and threw me one from his bag. My heart was fluttering in my chest. If this did what I wanted it to, I thought, Casey might have to tell his mom he lost his bottle. Casey helped me rack my weights and we began what was supposed to be the final thirty minutes of today’s workout. CHAPTER 2 “Dude,” I said breathlessly. “I have to sit down.” We were about a five minute walk from my house, Casey’s suggestion. He wanted to get a feel for the old neighborhood. My old friend acquiesced and sat with me on the concrete drainage ledge on the side of the typical suburban street. “That workout really tapped you, didn’t it,” he said to me as I sat down next to him. I barked a grumpy laugh as I got comfortable. “It was the worst workout of my life,” I said in spite of my intension to merely think it. Casey shifted. “Looked like you started off really into it.” I thought for a moment and realized he was right. I was doing great initially; every rep felt like it was making my muscles larger. But within minutes, the inspiration wore off and a few minutes after that every lift was a chore. He didn’t feel sick, he didn’t even feel weak. It was like his body was depressed in spite of his mind. “My burps taste like a dog’s ass,” I said as a particularly raunchy one erupted up my throat. My friend chuckled. “If I didn’t know what you were talking about, I’d ask how you could be so sure.” “Those pills suck,” I said mirthlessly. Casey blushed. “What did you expect?” he asked, slightly offended. “To blow up like a beast?” “Well,” I began, “yeah.” Then I laughed. We both did. “Sorry to disappoint,” Casey said with a chuckle. “Guess these have a different effect on you.” I was disappointed, but I thought of the personal instruction Coach Rod was going to give me after school next semester and I brightened up. Besides, I was in a better situation than Casey. “You ever think about doubling your dose? You know, to see what happens?” Casey chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, made me feel like shit.” His face grew serious. “Dude, I feel like I’ve been a shadow walking through life these last few years. I don’t even remember what it’s like to just be a normal kid. I’m ready to start over.” “What do you mean?” I asked. Casey looked over at me. “Everything I read about leukemia says that I had something different all those years ago. Nothing adds up and for years I’ve felt the pawn in a scientific game. I can’t even trust my parents anymore.” “You can trust them,” I said confidently. “They did everything they could to make you better. Even moved to another state.” Casey nodded as if he knew that very well. “Well, now that I’m out from under that doctor’s and everyone else’s microscope, I can start being a kid again. Apparently the more experimental a procedure is, the more they own you afterwards.” He took the baggie of pills from his pocket. Tears were streaming down his face. “Fuck that doctor and fuck these pills.” He threw the baggie into my lap. “They are yours for all I care.” Ten minutes later, when Casey’s sobs had softened into short breaths, we got up and started walking to his old house where his parents were still moving in. He actually spit out a sad laugh as he wiped his eyes. “You would have probably had a less emotional day if your mom had forced you to take the ugly girl to the prom.” I laughed as well. “Yeah, well I got you to take your shirt off well before she would have.” I paused. “It’s good to have you back.” And it was. We made it back to Casey’s house. I still felt out of breath and lethargic, as if I’d spent a week straight sitting on a couch. Casey went up to the back of the moving truck and went to pick up a box. “What are you thinking?” a shrill voice moaned from the house. I turned and saw Casey’s mom rush from the house. “You know you’re not able to do that.” Casey let out an exasperated sigh and he put the box back on the truck bed. “Just thought I’d give you a taste of my life’s been like,” he whispered to me under his breath. He walked back into the house. I turned to follow after him, but I didn’t miss the sad and desperate look on Jeanette’s face. “I’m sorry,” I said and ran into the house. “Don’t be,” he heard her say quietly at his back. Three days later, winter break began and it was a countdown to spring and my new workout regimen. I got supplements for Christmas, and lots of it. “That’s all you’ve been talking about for four months,” my mom said. “We didn’t know what else to get you.” She looked nervously at my hoard. “That stuff is safe, right?” Casey and I continued to grow closer and before long we felt like the friends we used to be. On the Saturday before school started, on one particularly chilly day, the two of us were racing our bikes through the paths we did as young children. Casey’s mom didn’t approve but her son was breaking her down little-by-little. Besides, he felt great he said, and he wasn’t even taking the pills anymore. Not that his mother knew that last part, and she thought we were just casually riding through the paved streets of the neighborhood and not these arduous semi-trails in the rolling woods which lay at its border. Deep in the woods behind Casey’s house, we were pushing our bikes to the limit jumping over fallen trees and powering our way up hills. After a particularly daunting hill, he pulled to a stop. We were both out of breath but relishing the exhaustion the way only the young are able. “What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried about Casey’s frail health. I turned towards him. His face was flushed and healthy, and that made me relax a bit. “Nothing,” he said as he stepped off his bike. He looked down at his legs and kicked them around at the knee, testing them. “Nothing,” he said again. Then he looked at me, his eyes sparkling. “You know, I’ve felt better and better ever since I stopped taking those pills.” I’d heard this before from him over the last couple days but was still confused by it. I hadn’t taken one after that first day so had nothing to compare it against. “Why do you think that is?” I asked, unzipping my jacket to let some cold air in. Casey seemed more interested in his legs than answering my question but eventually spoke. “You know my clothes aren’t fitting like they used to.” “Well, stop eating so much food,” I said sarcastically. The guy seemed to be eating whenever we weren’t stealing away from the steady gaze of his mother do to something she didn’t approve of. Casey’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled a knowing smile. “Let me show you something,” he said and started taking off his jacket. “What are you doing,” I asked him but barely finished the sentence before he pulled off his sweater and undershirt. The sight choked any other words from escaping. I couldn’t believe it. My friend was a stud. The overhead sun cast shadows under his pecs and detailed every soft line of his abdominal muscles all the way to the hem of his pants. Although not as striated as they were a few weeks ago, his pecs were easily denser and he bounced them a few times for good measure. Then he flexed his arms and a small bulge bloomed from each. A shadow was easily noticeable between his flexed biceps and relaxed triceps. He was easily as big as me now, and taller. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “That’s nothing,” he said and his smile grew wider as he bent over and unzipped his jeans. Dropping his pants revealed a set of quads that belonged on a track star. They swelled from his knee caps and were covered in deep set lines which only grew deeper when he flexed them. Turning revealed a ripped set of hamstrings and a set of striated glutes that bulged through his boxers. Compared to these oaks, his upper body looked like a sapling. “What the fuck?” I blurted out, unable to comprehend what my friend had become. “Sick, right?” Casey said. “Every day we ride our bikes through here, they start swelling like this. They tingle all day, like a mini-orgasm that lasts for hours. The shrink down after a few hours but, when I wake up the next morning, they’re definitely bigger than the day before.” I was at a loss. “How…what…dude!” Casey laughed as he pulled up his jeans, which for some reason disappointed me a bit. How have I missed it? It wasn’t hard to notice the size of his lower half even through the denim. The pieces were starting to come together in my head. I suddenly asked the right question. “What did they do to you in Jacksonville?” Casey’s smile dropped and his eyes lost their mirth. “I don’t know,” he said seriously, still shirtless in the cold. “But I’m not going to be their guinea pig anymore.” “What do you mean?” I asked, a little fearful of his tone. He smiled again and his eyes flashed with excitement. “I have a favor to ask,” he said. CHAPTER 3 Coach Rodriguez, or Coach Roid as his players called him when he wasn’t looking, looked at the two of us with a stern look. His heavily veined arms were crossed in front of his steel gut, making his forearms look like the size of pig shanks. “Now I know you,” he said to me. “And I know your dedication. I see something in you. But who’s this other kid you think I ought to waste my time to train?” Casey didn’t flinch but he let me answer. “I think you’ll like his work ethic every bit as much as mine.” It was the afternoon of the first day of spring semester. The day I’d been waiting for. And I was here with my best friend. Coach scanned Casey with his eyes. “You bring gym clothes?” he asked casually. Without hesitation, Casey took off his shirt and jeans. While he was wearing a pair of gym shorts beneath the jeans, apparently “gym clothes” meant bare above the waste. At 6’3” and an easy 250, Coach Rod made the two of us look like bean poles but he was surprised to see the definition on Casey. “Where you been all season?” he asked my friend. I was about to answer but Casey appropriately cut me off. “I’m new here, sir,” was all he said. “You play football?” “Used to,” he replied. Even though “used to” meant five years ago, Coach Rod apparently thought that was enough to assume Casey would be in pads next season. “I’ll tell you what, squirt; you give me one hundred pushups right here, right now, I’ll train your ass.” Casey immediately got on the floor and started doing pushups at a quick pace. “Real pushups, squirt,” he screamed loud enough to get a blood filled cable to rise from his neck. “Not those girly shits, elbows at ninety. There you go. That’s one.” About five real pushups later, Casey began to slow. Muscled or not, I wasn’t sure he’d done a push up since PE in third grade. I was suddenly hoping Casey could do twenty, let alone a hundred. Casey got to ten before his arms started to shake. Coach rolled his head and stared dramatically at the ceiling. “Oh, Jesus Christ, what the hell is it with these pussies? All this aesthetics bullshit and they can’t even throw their own weight around.” “Fifteen,” Casey said through gritted teeth. Coach looked back down at my still shaking friend. He kept his arms straight for a moment to catch his breath then dipped back down with shaky arms. “Six…teen,” he gasped as he slowly made his way back up. “Ok, kid,” Coach said. “I’m not sure you’re going to—“ “I’M NOT FINISHED,” Casey roared as the dropped down and pushed another rep. Coach’s eyebrows dropped and his face grew red in anger. He opened his mouth to verbally assault the disrespectful sod but was cutoff again by Casey yelling “Seventeen!” Only now each pushup seemed to be getting easier. By twenty he was only struggling and by thirty he was performing each rep in a clean, fluid motion. Fifty, sixty. The muscle on his back began to flush red and roll beneath the skin. “Well I’ll be damned,” Coach said under his breath. I could only smile. Seventy, eighty. Casey’s breath was now steady and strong. The horseshoes of his triceps, once only vaguely visible, now flared angrily from beneath his skin. Ninety. Then Casey did something I still can’t get over: he took one hand off the ground and started doing one armed pushups. One hundred… one-oh-one, one-oh-two. I started laughing. Coach got serious behind his own sardonic grin. “Get up, you arrogant ass,” he said. “I get it. You’re in. But can it with the sarcasm. You wasted a lot of my time acting like you would collapse at twenty.” Casey stood up, his face red with the effort and his pecs bulging like a pair of watermelons. Coach gasped and had his hand on my friend’s pec before he even knew what he was doing. Casey smiled and flexed them, making each into a striated ball that pushed against Coach’s touch. They were now so out of proportion with Casey’s body, the almost looked like breasts. “Um, ok,” Coach said as he dropped his hand and wiped it on his hip as if cleaning what he’d just done out of history. “This could be interesting.” Casey didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were semi-closed as if stoned. He flexed his pecs a few more times, squeezing them together as if noticing them for the first time. Then coach screamed an inch from his ear, “Wake up Goldilocks!” That did the trick. Five minutes later, the two of us were marching to Coach’s relentless drum. He pushed me a dozen reps past what I used to consider my max effort. He had me falling on the ground before he let up. I puked twice but he was quick to throw me a pre-made protein smoothie or something similar each time. “Nothing worse than working out on an empty stomach,” Coach said with a wry grin. It was the hardest day of my life, without question, but I could say that knowing that well over half the coach’s attention was on Corey. Coach seemed to finally understand that Corey somehow gained strength on each set, so he would start Corey off with light weight and incrementally increase it after five or so reps until he reached some sort of max. “You’re making me break every rule in the book, son,” the man told my friend after a particularly intense set under the bench press. Corey had just finished forty reps, the final ones being at 245 pounds. His entire body now matched the size of his swollen pectorals. It was like he was gaining mass out of nowhere, although coach was handing him every food item he had at hand throughout the workout. Although I knew he was 155 when we started this workout, he now looked over 180 and cut like a mountain. By the end of the hour, Casey had the sum of Coach’s attention. And I was ok with that. Casey lifted like an insane superhero and his body bulged more with every rep. Finally, Coach called it quits. As the energy in the room died down, Coach Rod’s game-time fury dissolved into something akin to confusion. “Young man, I don’t know what is going on with you, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ve ever seen anything like it.” He looked at Corey’s naked torso, now looking like an avid teen bodybuilder’s. “What are you taking, boy?” Corey smiled up at the behemoth man. “Nothing, I swear.” And it was the truth. Coach didn’t seem convinced but let it go. “I’ll see the two of you here at 4 pm on Wednesday. Eat at least four thousand calories a day from here on out.” He looked at Corey’s gorged body again and reached out to squeeze his arm, as it proving he was seeing reality. Corey lifted his arm and flexed what must have been a 16” arm. Not huge, but definitely bigger than the 13” one he walked in here with. Coach mumbled under his breath and continued doing so after he turned to leave. I only caught a few, “freak” was one of them. CHAPTER 4 “One hundred eighty three pounds!” Corey exclaimed through a mouthful of food as he stepped off the scale. That was a gain of over thirty pounds…in three hours. It shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible. I mimicked Coach Rod and put my hand on my friend’s body, if only to make sure it was real. His skin was burning hot and there was a vibration coming from the muscle underneath, so faint that it may have been my imagination. And his body was hard. Too hard. It was like touching a brick wall covered in skin. He was in only his boxers, which now looked more like briefs on his gorged body. He had the vascularrity of a bodybuilder; there was muscle everywhere. I kept expecting the insane pump he attained during the workout to go away but if anything he was bigger than before, and more defined. A pump usually makes you look bigger but not more defined. That ballooned look was now gone, replaced by striated and cut muscle that was every bit as big. “How big do you think I am?” Corey asked while he entertained me checking out his deep cut abs. I pulled my hand away. “Guess we can find out,” I said simply. Five minutes later, I had found a tape measure and had measured every part of him that wasn’t covered in fabric. Neck 15.2”, Arms 16.1”, Forearms 12.6”, Waist 31”, Hips 34.7”, thighs 26”, calves 16”, chest 46.8.” “How is this possible?” I asked, meaning for it to be rhetorical. Casey’s eyes flashed and his mouth narrowed. “Isn’t it obvious? They’ve spent the last three years doing everything they could to keep this from happening. Well, I’m not under their vulturous stare anymore. I own my body,” he said as he threw up a double bicep flex that would be the envy of anyone at the school. “And I’ll fucking do what I want with it.” My brain had enough; it was exhausted. I looked at my watch. “Dude, it’s eleven at night. You staying here tonight or you want my mom to take you home?” Casey was snapped out of his cloud and looked up. “Staying here. If my mom sees this, I don’t know what she’d do. She’s obviously tried to keep it from happening.” I couldn’t exactly disagree with him so I threw him a pillow and blanket and told him to sleep on the floor. Two hours later I was still awake, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. Casey, as energetic and excited as he was, had surprised me by falling asleep immediately. The causes of my insomnia were a mix of a racing mind and the frequent moans of my friend as he perpetually shifted under his blanket. I was more than a little jealous of my buddy’s sudden…superpower, but I was happy for him. A week earlier I thought my life was perfect. I figured by sophomore year I’d be 180 or more; after that, who knows? If anything, having my friend back should make my life better, right? I smiled at the ceiling as Casey shifted again under his sheets. As a sense of peace settled over my mind, I finally closed my eyes and fell asleep. Strange sounds fluttered into my dreams throughout the night. However, as often happens when one falls asleep to unwanted background noise, my sleep remained firm if light. I don’t know how long the sounds continued but it wasn’t until the grey light of predawn filtered through my window that I finally opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the black silhouette rummaging through my closet. The second thing was the mess on my floor. Empty bottles were everywhere and after a few seconds I recognized them to be most of the supplements I got for Christmas…empty. I could feel anger bubbling through the sleepy fog blanketing my mind, but it was soon cooled by a sense of curiosity tinged with fear. “Casey?” I asked the lumbering shape in my room. He didn’t respond and the fear pushed up a couple notches. Although the logical part of my brain said of course its Casey, the rest of it knew that couldn’t be true. The shape was too…different. I got out of bed, quickly losing any groggy remnants of sleep, and made my way to the door. Although I tripped over a few empty jugs of protein on my way to the light switch, the shape didn’t seem to register it. It seemed completely absorbed in eating my damn supplements. I flipped on the switch, my eyes squinted at the harsh new light but quickly registered the site before me none-the-less, and I almost passed out at the site of it. CHAPTER 5 Although the beast in front of me had Casey’s hair, the similarity ended there. He was facing away from me, his back muscles bulging and writhing as large hands sifted through what used to be my supplement store. Traps rose up and disappeared behind the shaggy mane atop his head. They ended at shoulders the size of cantaloupes. The rest of his back was wide a mountain of muscle that tapered into a waste more tight and taught than I thought possible. His boxers were glued to his skin and every striated detail of his glutes showed through the fabric. His oak tree legs were now redwoods and tapered down to calves that could carve granite. “Casey?” I asked again, my voice horse and barely above a whisper as I drew closer. He was obviously taller, perhaps 6’1 and that made him look even wider. I walked around him and glanced at his face from the side. His eyes were only partly open as if in a trance and his mouth hung gaping open whenever he wasn’t chewing on something. “CASEY!” I said louder. Still nothing. I reached up and grabbed his rock of a shoulder, trying to shake him. It wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped, he barely even moved even when I tried moving him with both hands. I ended up bulldozing into him with all my weight behind me before he took a balancing step and snapped out of it. “What?” he asked curiously, as if I’d simply woken him up from a good night’s sleep. He squinted at the light just as I had a moment earlier and wiped sleep from his eyes with his hands. Finally somewhat conscious, he looked at the mess on the floor around him. “What did you do to your room, man?” he asked innocently. I was more than at a loss for words. As Casey turned to me he revealed a body that could grace the cover of any fitness magazine. His pecs bulged from his ribs and looked like they were straining to cover the distance from sternum to shoulder. Eight dense and ripped abdominal muscles were carved between oblique walls that, themselves, bulged as if his ribs themselves were growing. His biceps were veined globes of muscle that looked made of steel even while relaxed at his side. My silence seemed to give Casey pause to figure things out for himself and it didn’t take long for him to notice how much taller he was than me now. Less than an inch over my 5’7 yesterday, he was now at least 4 inches taller…maybe more. He looked down at his hands, his eyebrows rising. Then he saw his body and a quiver went through his ripped form. “Look at me,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He put his hands on his stomach as if testing its reality. He smiled and his eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Look at me!” he said louder. “I am, I am,” I whispered harshly. “And quiet down, will ya? Last thing I want to explain to my parents is why there’s a big, naked bodybuilder in my bedroom at…5 am.” Casey strolled up, heavy footed and obviously not used to his added weight. “Wanna make me?” he asked with a mocking grin. I gulped. I was roughly eye level with his chin, making his powerful chest very visible in my field of view. Each pec looked as big as my head. He caught me staring and gave one a bounce just for good measure. It popped up like there was an animal trying to get out of it. “Go ahead,” he said. “Touch it.” I did. Maybe any overly muscled person felt like my friend Casey did that day but it was a far cry from the body I called my own. His skin was smooth yet barely contained muscle as hard as bone. When, flexed it was a whole different story. It was like touching a block of steel. It’s not like his size was inhuman but I’d never seen a body like this except in pictures and it was a completely different world when there in the flesh so to speak. He was just...so much bigger than me. “It’s incredible,” I said as I moved my hand to his bicep, first poking it goofily with my index finger, then grabbing it with my hand. His skin was still on fire and there was still that faint vibration. It was like the rumble of the earth when a freight train is passing nearby. He curled his arm at the elbow and I felt a powerful bulge rise up and push my hand back. “You should feel it the way I feel it,” he said breathlessly. “It’s like the only thing keeping me from being twice this size is my skin.” I couldn’t necessarily disagree with the idea; his skin felt as tight as a balloon ready to pop. After a few awkward moments of silence where I could only feel a body I had only dreamed of seeing let alone have, we finally got down to business. “I guess your supplements work,” Casey said finally. “I’m sorry about that, man. Would you believe I didn’t know what I was doing?” I nodded, and did. I could hear the sound of movement from elsewhere in the house meaning my parents were up and about. They could not see Casey like this. Luckily, I had some clothes and a jacket to hide his width but not much would hide his height. “You shower up and find some clothes. I’ll go get some breakfast.” Casey nodded and walked to the bathroom, feet pounding like a gorilla’s. “Quietly,” I whispered. “I don’t want them to even know you’re here and that won’t happen if you’re stomping all over the place.” “Sorry, man,” Casey said as he adjusted his stride to tiptoes, forcing his vein-covered calves to flare out like diamonds. “You try being stealthy with a body like this.” He flexed his back for good measure…I didn’t even know you could even do that. I rolled my eyes and went downstairs, only to find the kitchen a small disaster zone. Slight panic welled up in my gut when I realized Casey had not only eaten my supplements but had devoured everything in the kitchen. I pictured him sleepwalking in only his boxers, rummaging through the kitchen, body expanding with every bite of food. Considering the situation, I considered myself lucky it was only as messy as it was. He was surprisingly thorough, leaving only empty cans and boxes scattered everywhere. I spent the next ten minutes gathering the tuna cans, peanut butter jars, egg cartons, milk jugs, deli meat bags, Wheat Thins, cereal boxes, you name it. By the time I was done, the pantry and fridge looked like they belonged to a poor college student…without the ramen noodles. Even after collapsing everything to as compact a pile as possible, it still filled up the garbage can in the garage. With no breakfast save a handful of goldfish crackers he had missed, I went back up to my room, still hearing the rushing water from my shower. Looking at the clock, I saw it was already 5:45, fifteen minutes before my parents ventured downstairs. I started to panic a little but kept my cool. I barged into the bathroom and drew the curtain on my friend, who seemed to be lathering his body for the tenth time. “You fucking ate my kitchen bare,” I said. He looked at me, looking half annoyed I wouldn’t let him enjoy his new body and half amused at the situation. “Oops,” he said. He flexed his arm. “Does a body good. These puppies are over eighteen inches around.” They looked every bit that big. I looked on the counter and saw my tape measure in a pool of water, as if he used it in the shower. The scale was also sitting in a pool of water. He must have thought of that particular stat after he got in. “Two twenty one,” he said smugly, following my eyes. My jaw dropped but I wasn’t all that surprised. It’s not like that body was full of air. It took every shred of effort not to touch his body again. “Look, you gotta dry up and get dressed, Casey,” I said, practically begging him to cooperate. :We got fifteen minutes before my parent notice we were invaded by a mob of hungry drifters.” That seemed to get his attention because he immediately turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. His glutes formed ruggedly carved boulders each time they bounced with each step. He grabbed a towel and dried off, seemingly enjoying the experience as much as he did the shower. Meanwhile, I held up the clothes he wore yesterday to my own body and quickly ruled out his ability to wear them. I rummaged through my closet for the biggest clothes I could find, meaning invading the stash of gifts from my grandmother, who seemingly thought I looked like adult-large material. “You’ll grow into it,” she had said confidently. “Yeah, in five years,” I said to myself. Five minutes later, we were both dressed, sort of. The shirt looked almost painted on his torso and the pants, although only slightly snug at the legs and butt, rose a good inch above the ankle standing up. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about people making fun of your capris,” I said after he made a comment about them. “Who would dare?” he said cockily. His feet were too big for his shoes now, so I gave him a pair of flip flops. The fact his toes and heels extended past the soles was nothing compared to the ridiculous ensemble he was already wearing. I completed it with my oversized ski jacket. If anything it made him look bigger, but at least that size might be blamed on the clothes and not the man underneath. We both crept down the stairs. Well, I crept. He stomped like a one-man marching band. “I can’t help it,” he said, still grinning. “Honey, is that you?” my mom said from her room. “Yeah,” I yelled back, my face red with frustration. “Heading to school early. Have a meeting.” It was the most ridiculous explanation I could have offered but it seemed to suffice to a woman who didn’t know there was anything to worry about. “There’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch,” she said in reply. Casey failed at any attempt to hold back a laugh, most of it escaping through his nose in a sort of snort. In spite of myself, I laughed too. What can I say? It was funny. “Thanks mom,” I said, voice filled with humor. Ten seconds later we were out the door. “Well, its six am,” I said matter-of-factly. “School doesn’t start for another hour-and-a-half.” I looked over and saw Casey thumbing through his wallet. “I’m sure we could fill that time up.” Believe it or not, we did. School was about a half mile from my house, as was a local convenience store. After raiding it of any nutritional value and one extra large “No Fear” t-shirt that I didn’t know people even sold anymore, we found ourselves back in the gym at school. “I wanna test these babies out,” Casey had said, popping a double bicep flex while walking down the road. The jacket stood attention as it rose with his bulging arms. I relaxed somewhat. That jacket was plenty big enough even if the shirt underneath was not. Fourteen hours and sixty pounds after his first gym experience, my friend Casey, cancer survivor, was benching 405 lbs for reps. My body was in tatters from the night before, feeling like it would hurt for days. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow’s workout with coach. But Casey’s body was apparently begging to be used. His chest swelled with each rep, his lats flaring like wings as he pushed his arms up. He was beginning to look like a pro-bodybuilder, except his muscles were still long and hard, not puffy and bloated like I’d seen on the cover of magazines. Not for the first time I wondered what the limit of his growth would be. Between each set, Casey would pose in the mirror, and each time a new body would pose back, a little bigger, a little leaner, a little stronger. It was something neither of us got tired of. However, at 7 am, I finally touched his boulder of a shoulder and told him it was time to stop. People might be showing up soon. “So what,” he said, the left side of his mouth curling up in a smile as arrogant as a drunken fratboy. “Let ‘em come. He flexed his biceps and Olympian arms exploded from their cocoon, both heads of each biceps stretching their constraining skin.” I still remember the feeling I had right then, inches away from the herculean body of what must have been the most developed fifteen year old in the world. Little did I know then how many Casey’s there were out there. I finally convinced him to put his clothes back on and walk to the front of school, and it involved letting him know that more people could see him there than here. The jeans were a little tighter and the polo shirt was a joke. It stretched across his torso like a rubber band, every ravine in his back visible and every bulge threatening to tear it apart. He smiled knowingly and lifted his arm. “Corey, no,” I said pleadingly but he had already flexed his bicep and the sleeve ripped lean across the seam and his arm exploded out of it like water bursting from a dam. It was criss-crossed in veins and the striations writhed beneath. “Dude,” I said, internally wincing at how winey I sounded. “That was a nice shirt.” “Was,” he said matter-of-factly as he ripped the rest off as if it were paper. After a pause, he looked up guiltily, “Sorry, bro, got carried away.” I couldn’t feign anger I didn’t feel. Everything that had happened since he awoke that morning was too incredible to focus on the negatives. Looks like it was a No Fear day, which was somewhat appropriate. It fit well, his vascular arms and 60” chest still had some breathing room. Ten minutes later we were both milling around in front of the school with the rest of the early arriving students. Although at school the day before, I never really had the chance to introduce Casey to any of my friends. He made up for that today. People I only rarely spoke to now came up for no reason to introduce themselves. One in ten looked like the name sparked a memory from years back but none said anything. Most had never known Casey anyway. His face was the only thing that made him look the age he said he was. The jacket was somewhat successful hiding the bodybuilder figure he was sporting but the jeans, ridiculously baggy on me and only barely tight on him an hour ago, now showed off his powerful legs that took every inch of its circumference. He was a hit to say the least. We split up for home room but shared first period. At no point did I see him without food in his mouth, most gotten from the convenience store, the rest from the “healthy” vending machines in the hallways. He stood out when we walked from class-to-class, easily mistaken for a senior athlete. In a class laden with other freshman, he looked downright foreign. He did well and kept his jacket on, although he looked increasingly uncomfortable and shifted around in a way that garnered some unwanted (or wanted) attention from the rest of the class. Our schedules split us up until lunchtime, and the couple of hours in between allowed me to hear all the rumors flying around about the “hot new stud” at school. I even heard one of the teachers whispering about him to her aid. “We’re training together,” I often said to any person curious how I knew him. More than once, I garnered the reaction I secretly wanted: the look that pictured me being just as big as him one day. The bell for lunch finally arrived and I finally saw Casey again. He was hard to miss. I still couldn’t get over how big he was and suddenly realized that I was at eye level with his upper chest now. My heart both sank and fluttered at the same time. He was still getting bigger. He had to be 6’5” now. The hem of his pants was well up his calf now and his quads and glutes now pressed violently against the denim and stretched it across his girth. The thick jacket now only served to enhance his frame. Although it still did a good job taking away his definition, his biceps now stretched it when his arms were bent and you could begin to see the outline of his chest under the inches of padding and cotton insulation. He was eating beef jerky out of a Warehouse sized bag and carried a gallon jug of water with his pinky as if it were an empty teacup. “Where did you get that shit?” I asked harshly, knowing quite well how unintimidating I was. I had to very obviously look up to make eye contact with him. “The varsity football players have a food horde in the locker room. They hooked me up,” he said, seemingly unaware or uncaring of my tone. “You have to stop eating like that,” I said, somewhat desperately. He stopped chewing for a moment and raised his eyebrows. “Would you in my situation?” he said as he put another piece of jerky in his mouth and washed it down with a third of the jug, the muscles in his jaw flares with every bite. God, he had muscles everywhere. Ultimately, I couldn’t say I would act any differently so we went to lunch like nothing was wrong. While in line, Casey received second glances from everyone who passed by. He didn’t even act like he noticed, but I saw his eyes briefly make contact with some of the onlookers. He knew, and was loving every minute of it. We sat down at what would be called the “cool kids” table if this were 1987. Casey and all his size sat in the place of honor in the middle. His tray looked like my plate did on Thanksgiving: so loaded up with food that you couldn’t even see the porcelain underneath. Apparently the lunch ladies knew he was a hungry boy and were delighted to help quench his stomach. He was flanked by my friends Jeremy and Amelia while I sat on the opposite site of the table from him. Both friends were making seemingly accidental contact with him too often for it to be as it appeared, and both didn’t seem to fathom what they were touching. Then Casey really set the table off: halfway through lunch, he took off his jacket and lay in on his lap. “Can’t hardly breathe,” he told me when my eyes grew wide. “Jesus Christ,” Chandler Roberts exclaimed with alarm from the end of the table. And that was the least of the comments which erupted from the table, not to mention from other people in the cafeteria. Carla, the girl sitting to my right, reacted by actually spitting her iced tea all over Jeremy’s face. To say Casey was bigger than this morning was an understatement. The No Fear shirt was an errant flex away from tearing apart. How big did one have to be to stretch an XL shirt by that much? His lats bulged and his shoulders looked like pumpkins, ridges and all. His chest was pressing against the shirt comically and bounced involuntarily with every movement of his arm. The veins and striations in his arms bulged through the t-shirt as if the fabric were merely paind. His back must have been equally impressive, for it garnered as much attention from the crowd seated behind him as his front received from us. “How on earth did you get all those muscles?” Colton, a friend of mine sitting next to me, also a bit of a gym rat, asked. “Hard work,” he said simply as he chugged his third carton of milk. His unflexed, but boulder-looking arm looked to be at least 20” around. Carla, who was still emotionally recovering from giving Jeremy’s face a bath, gawked openly. The rest of the lunch period, of course, revolved around Casey. And to be honest, I loved it. A couple of minutes after Jeremy finished drying his face, a particularly huge senior walked by and ducked his head next to Casey’s ear. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re sitting with the freshman, but I would kill to train with you, bro.” Casey grinned and at that precise moment, the fabric over his right shoulder split down the seam and ran itself all the way up to his neck, allowing the fabric on either side to fall back and reveal a smooth and gargantuan trap. I swear I didn’t see him flex or anything, but the timing was too perfect to not speculate intent. The big senior’s head snapped back and he dropped his lunch tray to the ground while his mouth hung open like a fish out of water. Casey turned around and I heard another stitch pop somewhere but didn’t know where. “I don’t know if you could handle my routine,” he said before turning back around. The senior walked away, leaving his trey on the ground and his gaze on Casey’s bare shoulder. The rest of the table was silent. By the time we were getting up from lunch, Casey sounded like an old ship at sea, every stitch of clothing creaked as they were pulled tighter and tighter or snapping all-together. Each bulge of his abs were clearly visible and protruded from below his shirt like a super-hero from a comic book. His quads bounced and boiled enough to show off their deep cuts even through the thick denim of his jeans. He seemed to realize that it would be a good idea to put the jacket back on but even it was looking comically tight by this point. “I don’t know what to say,” I whispered to him. And it was true. “Say it’s awesome,” he said with a laugh. I turned towards him, not surprised to see that I was eye level with the lower part of his chest now. Looking down, the bottom of his shredded calves could now be seen below the bottom cuff of his…my…jeans. I guessed he was 6’6, and maybe 260 lbs. Hell, maybe 300. Maybe more. It was hard to tell at this point. The lines of his biceps and triceps bulged through the polymer fabric of the jacket. It camouflaged nothing now. He might as well be walking around shirtless. My jeans groaned with each step he took. “I think you should stop eating until we get you out of here,” I said on our way to English, which we happened to both share. As if to answer, he pulled out yet another bag of beef jerky and started eating it one shredded leaf at a time. I sighed, but my stomach was fluttering. He was right. This was awesome. There were two more periods that day and I was counting down every second until that final bell. English was a lesson in patience. Casey sat next to me, concentrating only on what he was putting in his mouth. It seemed like every bite of food Casey swallowed resulted in the sound of another stitch popping somewhere on his body. The jacket now looked painted on him and, by the end of the period, I knew that the popping stitches were now coming from the jacket. The shirt underneath was probably just rags at this point. We split up for the final class and as I watched him go, standing head-and-shoulders above anyone else in the hallway and half again as wide. A trail opened up for him and not an eye was drawn to him as he passed by. I could only guess what he would look like by the final bell; a mere hour away. CHAPTER 6 I was standing in front of school after the final bell, allowing the milling masses of students to walk around me as I waited for Casey to meet me for our walk home. My last period was rife with whispered rumors about what happened with my swelling friend during our lunch period and the claims grew wilder as the minutes rolled by. “He picked Rick Barnes up by the neck and threw him across the lunch room,” I heard one guy say. I supposed Rick Barnes was the football player who asked to work out with him. The general consensus had Casey at well over seven feet tall and having to duck and turn sideways to get through a doorway. I chuckled internally at the exaggeration stated as fact yet had to question how far from the truth it actually was. As I eavesdropped on the conversations in the hallway and outside in the causeway, I realized the rumors were intensifying even further. “Some muscle guy burst clean out of his shirt and pants,” a girl said. “Guess they don’t make clothes big enough for a stud like that.” “They had to usher him out of the class,” I heard another person say. “Apparently he had to hold his backpack in front of his dick because his underwear came off too.” “I saw him in the hallway while I was heading to the bathroom, dude,” I heard from another. “Mr. Robertson was escorting him and had to reach up just to hold on to his arm. Fuck man, his hand didn’t even make it a third way around his bicep. The guy must have weighed…” His voice faded into the din of the passing crowd. No one who heard these tales believed them entirely yet passed them on as truth nonetheless. I didn’t believe completely either until a girl I actually knew hit too close to reality with her rendition. “He was eating like a starving animal and drinking his jug one water as if addicted,” Amber Reynolds said to a friend of hers as she walked by. “It was like he didn’t even hear the stitches on his clothes popping like fireworks.” I grabbed her arm before she could walk by and she pitched an annoyed look before she realized it was me. “Where you actually there?” I asked quickly. “What happened?” Amber’s dreamy smile returned. “I was there,” she said almost breathlessly. “It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” I thought of Casey’s overstuffed backpack and jug of water. He refilled that gallon jug three times during lunch alone and who knows how much food was in that pack. If muscle is 85% water, then Casey had an infinite supply of growth readily available. “Go on,” I said impatiently. “It was the craziest thing,” Amber Reynolds said, her eyes wide with excitement. “He just kept eating and drinking, eating and drinking until those little pops turned into the sound of paper ripping. I looked back and saw that his jeans had ripped along the thigh and was growing down his leg and up to his waste. His legs just erupted from the tear like they couldn’t wait to escape and…” she swallowed and took a breath. “I can’t tell you what they looked like. It was like…like a tree trunk covered in skin. They were so huge.” She held her slightly curved hands in front of her about two feet apart, as if mimicking how big his thighs actually were. “Then it went really crazy,” she continued. “He just…flinched. Or shrugged, or something.” She paused, her eyes glassy and somewhat…lustful. “And his clothes just fell away.” “Fell away?” I repeated, confused. “Fell away,” she said again. “Like he was shrugging off a blanket. Suddenly he was naked save for the clothes he was sitting on and a few tattered rags sitting on his bare legs. Oh god, what a sight.” “What happened to him, Amber?” I asked loud enough to break her from her stupor. She still looked at me a moment before answering. “I guess they took him to the principal’s office,” she said. Then she turned to the friend she had originally been speaking to. “I’d say I was sorry to see him go but at least I had the chance to see those gigantic legs move. Oh, and Sandy,” she said, returning her attention back to her friend. “His ASS. It was like two pumpkins trying to eat each other.” I raised my eyebrow at her strange description but let it and the two of them go as I raced back into the school to the principal. Making my way down the hall, I bolted right past the “Students must be escorted to enter” sign and into the faculty area. “Hold it right there, young man,” a woman said to my back as I raced by her and into Mr. Stone’s office. The principal, himself, was on the phone when I barged in and he immediately looked none too pleased to see me. “Hold on one moment, ma’am,” he said to the phone under a furrowed brow. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked me with a mix of anger and surprise as he pressed the mute button on the console. “Sorry, sir,” I said truthfully. “My friend Casey apparently had an…incident today.” The principal’s stone gaze softened and was replaced by a sort of dreamy terror. “Casey Valencort?” “Yes,” I said simply. The principal looked like he’d just flashed back to a memory he’d successfully tried to forget. He even started mumbling to himself as his eyes shot to a corner of the room behind me. I followed his eyes and saw the ruined remains of a wooden chair which must have originally rested where I now stood. God, I thought with surprise. How much weight would it take to crush it like that? I looked back at the principal, who was still blank faced and incoherent. “What happened?” I demanded angrily, shaking him out of his own mind. The fact he wasn’t upset with my tone was testament enough to his shock. “Coach Rodriguez took custody of him, took him to find some clothes,” he said blandly. I nodded and started to leave the office. “Wait,” the principal said, the gusto in his voice returning. I turned back, waiting for the rest. His fortitude was short-lived as his eyes had already glazed over a bit and the strength in his voice was gone. “What’s wrong with you kids these days?” I didn’t even answer. I was out the door and racing towards the gym. A minute later I burst through the doors to the school gym. Normally full of jocks pumping iron at this point (Monday was an exception as it was technically closed during the first day of the semester), it now held only two people: Coach Rod and the biggest human I’d ever seen in my life. Coach, all 250 pounds of him, was obviously dwarfed by my friend. Casey was shirtless and I’m not sure a shirt of any standard size would have fit him. However, Coach had found what looked to be XXXL shorts for him and it was so baggy at the waste that it rested on the stone shelf of his glutes yet still looked glued to what must have been 40” thighs. Casey himself was doing barbell curls, with four plates on either side. The kid was curling over four hundred pounds. And easily. His arms were crisscrossed with veins were pumped to nearly thirty inches around. Each different muscle in his arm stood out in bold relief. Coach Rod was sitting there, looking like a dwarf, eyes glistening in amazement. Based on the size difference, I’d put Casey at nearly seven feet tall and easily over 300 pounds, probably closer to 350. Both stopped what they were doing when I ran in. Casey was a site to behold, and for the first time today he didn’t have food in his mouth. His backpack was open and empty. He still had the jug with him, and took gulps often. Even at this size, his muscles were long and lacked that bloated look of a normal person who attained such mass. The entirety of his body was growing (if to a smaller extent than the muscle) and that included his bones, probably his organs, and (thank God) his skin. He was becoming a giant in every sense of the word. A giant made of corrugated steel covered in skin. He was also still growing, I assume, because he was continuously stretching and shifting as if to make room for new mass. I wondered how much “muscle reserves” he still had left in his stomach. He lifted his arms over his head in a just-out-of-bed stretch that made him look like a titan breaking out of a mountain. His lats flared like wings the size of a whole ham and pulled his iron mid-section of deeply etched ab blocks the size of mason bricks tight. He smiled at me between upper arms that dwarfed my head. Even after such an eventful day, I saw no fear in his eyes. There was only determination and an obvious enjoyment. “What up buddy?” he asked. Had his voice always been that deep? “I guess I should ask you that,” I said as I reach the two of them. As always, being this close magnified everything. Coach Rod’s own huge size somewhat compensated for Casey’s unnatural proportions at a distance but up close, there was no denying how big my buddy had become. He was as tall sitting as I was standing. There wasn’t a soft spot on his body, each muscle stood out boldly as if flexed. I could put both my outstretched hands, side-by-side, and not cross a single pec. Each shoulder was as big as my head. In short, he could break me like a twig with no effort if he had such a motive and there was nothing I could do about it. “Your friend has had quite a day,” Coach Rod said surprisingly casually. “An amazing day.” “Yeah,” I replied brilliantly. “He won’t tell me what’s going on but I suppose that’s his business anyway,” Coach continued. “What’s my business is making sure you two boys are okay.” “I’ve never been better,” Casey said as if for the tenth time. Coach Rod nodded impatiently, as if he’d heard it for the tenth time. “Just promise me you won’t end up giving half the high school a peep show again, young man.” Casey responded by bouncing his pecs, forcing those two fifty pound heaps flesh to jump like rabbits. “But it’s so much fun,” he said, every bit the fifteen year old he was. I saw a fistful of fury cross Coach’s eyes but was quickly replaced with a sparkle. To my surprise, he smiled. “How did it feel walking through those halls with a bookbag barely covering your junk for all to see?” “I ruled the world,” Casey said with a grin. “Hah!” Coach barked and slapped Casey on the arm, hard. The boy didn’t even move. Shit, his arm didn’t even dent. “I bet it did.” “CASEY!” a voice called from the door I just entered through. The three of us turned our head to see Casey’s mom standing in the doorway. Her face was a mask of worry and mascara stained streaks ran down her eyes. “Mom,” he said as he got up and walking by me. I was wrong, we was over seven feet. And over 350 pounds. He thundered over to his mom and bent over to embrace her, almost making her disappear in his arms. “Are you okay?” she asked, doing her best to take in the giant in front of her. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of his chest and he was easily twice her width. “Never better,” he said yet again. “But-“ She reached up and covered his mouth with her finger. “Shh. We have a lot to talk about, I know. On the way home.” And it was as simple as that. With a gracious nod to both Coach and me, she ushered the giant out of the room. Both of us exhaled breaths we didn’t know were being held. After an awkward silence, I smiled and did what I do. “Think you can make me that big?” I asked. Coach laughed a nervous laugh. “Can’t say it’s not possible,” he said and looked at the now vacant doorway. “Apparently nothing is these days.” “See you tomorrow afternoon?” I asked. He looked at me and nodded. I got up and left, leaving Coach on the bench staring at the wall. I could only guess what was going through his mind. I ignored the half believed rumors of a giant walking to a Camry and having to bundle himself into a ball to get in. Apparently he’d been so heavy that the passenger side of the car nearly dragged on the asphalt as it drove away. I walked home, expecting a call from my friend that never came. I let him be. My parents must have known something was up; they never asked about the suddenly empty kitchen. I went to bed early, dreaming about what it must be like to be any size you wanted. Casey wasn’t at school the next day but the rumors continued. He went back to the military lab he’d come from. He was playing football for a college team. One guy swore he was in the porn industry now. No one seemed to remember that I was the one who brought him here, and I was ok with that. I pounded another grueling workout with Coach Rod and tried to call Casey on the way home. No answer. After he didn’t show up the next day, I dropped by his house. His mother answered the door. “Hey there,” she said, her smile only semi-believable. “I was just wondering if Casey was home,” I said, sounding like a ten year old. “I’m sorry, hun, Casey won’t be back,” she said, sending a knife through my heart. “But I can tell you it’s for the best. He said so. It was wrong of me to keep him in a bottle I suppose.” She looked like she was only half convinced. “Will I see him again?” I asked. She smiled again, her eyes distant. “I don’t know. But you two have something special I suppose. That may bring you together.” I nodded but my heart was sinking. “Well, thanks,” I said and turned away. “Wait,” I heard at my back. “I almost forgot.” I turned back towards the door and saw her walking down the foyer and into the adjoining living room that was still serving as a receptacle for what remained unpacked from their move. She pulled a taped up box about twice the size of a standard shoe box and came back to the door. “He said you might want this,” she said as she handed the box over. “Said it’s some stuff from when you were kids.” I was somewhat taken aback, wondering if I should feel hurt and if he was closing himself out of my life after reintroducing himself into it so briefly. It tested it in my hands, ready to be gone. I bid her goodbye again, still perplexed by her strange mixture of sadness and…relief? The walk home was short and the box couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds. It was slightly damp on the bottom and quietly rattled with each step, as if filled with beans. Ten minutes later it was on the desk in my room and I was cutting along the taped seam with my house key. Opening it revealed a sealed envelope sitting on top of some packing peanuts. My name was written on it, the letters large and somewhat unwieldy. It made me wonder how big Casey was when he penned it. How big do you need to be before using standard pens becomes a delicate chore? The letter inside was written in the same oversized and clumsy script. I heard somewhere that Vikings used to slice open their palms and shake hands with their closest friends, forming a bond that enemies could never break. As Blood Brothers, they gained each other’s strength and would meet each other in the afterlife if slain. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to me; maybe an afterlife in its own rite. There’s a lot more to this story than I ever knew and am still digesting it. I could use a Blood Brother along the way. The choice is yours, of course. Your friend, Casey I put down the letter and brushed aside the packing peanuts. Inside was a bunch of those pills he was taking before he came back. I was confused, and pretty sure we determined those to be poison. I took a few of the bottles out and noticed another, smaller box resting underneath. It was sitting on two ice packs that had melted back to mush. The smaller box was metal and looked pretty official. I opened it and my heart skipped a beat. Inside was a sealed hypodermic needle and next to it was a small vial filled with a thick red liquid so dark it was nearly blue. The words in the letter came crashing home, and what Casey wanted me to do. Blood brothers indeed. Blood Brothers 2 (Chapter 7) I rolled the vial of Casey’s blood in my palm, my mind trying to sort out a dozen different scenarios at the same time. From the din which crowded my senses came only one question, travelling only at a whisper yet as powerful as a typhoon. Would it make me like him? I didn’t know how to use a syringe; I’d never done any drug other than smoking a cigarette in eighth grade. And I’d hated it. I mean, it’s not like Casey had AIDS. What’s the worst that could happen? Before I could consider an answer, I involuntarily started focusing the BEST that could happen and doing so made my mind wander as if in a dream. I mentally felt my body, one that had felt so top of its class a few days earlier. I had a six pack, sure, but it was mostly due to me being lean. It’s not like it could take a punch. I told my meathead buddies that I had 14” arms but that required a full pump and a pretty solid rounding up. I suddenly felt like a man dying of thirst staring at a river of water, fresh and clean…and would keep him from ever being thirsty again. I took off my shirt and stared at the mirror on my wall. A weak voice in my head told me I was no slouch and an even quieter one said it was silly to compare my development at fifteen to a model on a magazine cover, a bodybuilder football coach, or a freak teenage boy. A louder one mentioned the dozens of same age guys at my school with better bodies than me. Why couldn’t I be the genetic freak? “Who listens to the quiet voice anyway?” I whispered to myself as I emptied the vial into the syringe and drained it in my butt cheek. It hurt like hell. Deed done, I dropped the empty syringe and looked back at the mirror. I looked the same, of course, only now my mind saw the reflected image as a cocoon from which a specimen rarely seen on this earth would soon break free. Looking back, that was probably the most powerful I’d ever felt. What had the current great muscle gurus of the world seen in the mirror when they were fifteen? Did they know what they would become? I thought I did, and couldn’t wait. On impulse, I dropped down and did as many pushups as I could before my chest gave out, which wasn’t many considering the intense regimen Coach Rod put me through earlier that afternoon. Standing, I was disappointed to see only a moderate pump, if one I’d be otherwise proud of. For the first time I felt doubt that this would work. My mind flashed to a couple days before, when I’d taken the pills, so sure they’d make me buff. I’d felt the same then as I did now; would the pending disappointment feel the same too? Life went on after that night. I ate dinner with my parents, kitchen fully restocked. My parents talked to me about the complete devouring of a family’s foodstuffs; I said Casey and I were on a heavy calorie diet and we feasted that night. They didn’t comment much. For all I knew they heard the truth about Casey already. Parents can be so…willfully blind at times. Regardless, I ate like a horse, hoping it would affect me the same as it did Casey. It didn’t. I went to bed that night stuffed to the point of pain. I woke up the next morning, which happened to be Friday, and ran to the mirror. Same body. I walked to the bathroom, weighing myself and was surprised that I saw 154 on the scale. I normally weighed 150. Then I realized I had to use the restroom. To spare the details, five minutes later I wasn’t 154 anymore…I was 151. The disappointment was the same, it turned out. I went to school as if everything was normal. Any, quite honestly, it was. Casey’s fifteen minutes of fame were still whispered about in corners among the meatheads and muscle-lovers, but that was about it. Although not depressed, I still wandered through the day lethargically. That lasted right up until my appointment with Coach Rod… “What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?” Coach screamed in my ear, the veins in his sweaty neck standing out like electric cabling. I had just finished benching 155 five times. I’d done eight reps four days earlier; not good. We were not alone. The high school gym was filled with perhaps a dozen or so lettered athletes, most juniors and seniors and every one of them bigger than me. They all stared at the two of us but with a gaze that said most had been yelled at by the behemoth coach on many occasions as well. “Give me those ever-effeminate hands of your,” he ordered as he forcefully took them and pulled me to the pull-up bar that stood in front of full-wall mirror. After forcing the person already using the contraption away with a glare, he somehow made a tube of duct tape appear out of nowhere and ordered me to grab the bar. I jumped up and hung from it, watching my tiny lats flair like flattened footballs. My curiosity was replaced with a morbid realization when Coach wrapped my hands in duct tape until they were nothing but grey balls connecting my wrists to the bar. I couldn’t move my fingers a hair’s width. “Now you’re going to hang there until I get one hundred decent pull-ups from you,” Coach said simply, then sat down and stared. I got to work but only got to eight before I gave up. “Fuck you, squint,” he said to my reflection in the mirror. I pulled again, arms, shoulders, and back burning. After hanging for a few seconds, I was able to do another. “Ten,” he said, not even looking. He looked like he was losing his patience. Over the next few minutes, I did five more before calling uncle. “I can’t,” I moaned, hanging from the balls of tape with my toes six inches off the ground. Suddenly Coach’s evil eyes were an inch from mine. The bulges of his traps and thickness of his neck absorbed the periphery of my vision. “If I hear ‘can’t’ one more time from you, ever, I will never train you again. You understand me?” I could only nod and did another rep. “Good,” he said, eyes still on fire. Then Coach surprised me by taking his shirt off and leaping next to me on the bar as if to perform pull-ups himself. I looked at our reflections in the mirror before up. Me, the puny fifteen year old, and my new mentor, all 250 pounds of shredded muscle, hanging next to me with his lats flaring like wings beneath his bulging arms. “You want to look like me one day?” he asked as he performed a perfect pullup. “You gotta work like me.” Then he did another and another. Then he looked at me and said something which changed everything. “You…are…not…Casey.” Something snapped in my brain. I had been looking for the easy way out. I was looking for a body in a day, like Casey. But that didn’t happen except in two-day-long dreams. This was how you built muscle. I performed another pull-up; Coach did the same. His arms and lats were flushed with blood and bulged as they pulled his weight. I want that, I thought. I did another pull-up; he did too. I don’t know how long it took me to get to one hundred but that time was filled with more screams and pain than I knew myself capable of bearing. Coach performed every pull-up with me, and did it with much less strain and noise. Exhausted, sweating, and ragged. I hung nearly lifeless from the bar, head down and body on fire. I felt a solid pat and squeeze on my lats. “Nice pump, boy,” Coach said as he put a foot stool beneath my feet and began unwrapping my hands. I looked at the mirror and was happy to see that my lats actually looked big, as did my arms…even if both felt as useless as a wet sponge. I also noticed that the rest of the eyes on the gym were on me. Coach did too. “If you assholes have nothing to do but gawk, get the fuck out of my gym,” he screamed, all the more intimidating without a shirt on. Some actually did; the rest turned away and didn’t make eye contact the rest of the hour. Coach turned to me, looking as scary as ever but speaking softly. “Ninety-nine percent of everyone who touches a weight will never reach their potential because they let their body tell them when to stop. The second you do that, you fail.” His face was a few inches from my own, and his angry eyes and gorged body filled my vision. He tapped my forehead with his index finger. “This tells you when to stop.” Coach grabbed his shirt from the floor. “Never in your life will you have a body more malleable than the 15 year old sack of skin you now wear. You feel like wasting that time by doing a few pushups then playing video games the rest of the day, you do it on your own time.” He paused, looked at my body hanging in front of him, then a gleam entered his eyes and his lips curled into a smile so small I almost believed it wasn’t there. “See you Monday.” Then he walked out of the room. I got the hint; I spent the next hour working my ass off in that gym. Well, that is, after one of the other guys in the room was kind enough to remove the tape from my hands. When I finally left, I felt completely destroyed but my heart raced with excitement and my mind was on fire. I felt amazing; I practically skipped home. That night, after eating three meals in four hours, I hit the bed at eight that night and barely took a breath before I was out cold. The next morning I weighed myself. 152. Whatever, Rome wasn’t built in a day. The semester progressed and consisted of eating, lifting, school, sleep and an occasional bit of life. I decided not to play baseball that year and focused on Coach Rod’s training. Each session was brutal but seemed easier as the weeks went by. Each day I woke up feeling a little bigger, a little heavier. The feeling was verified by the tape measure and scale. By the end of the second week I was 155. By February, I could claim 14” arms without any guilt. I became more defined, my pretty boy abs grew deeper and harder and my chest started to bulge as my bench presses reach the 200’s. By mid-February, I started to notice lines in my quads and could actually see the muscle moving under the skin. I was at 160 at that point and had forgotten all about my failed experiment with Casey’s blood. I also felt I wouldn’t have a problem making 180 by next football season. People started noticing that my shirts were getting tighter and as the winter chill began to fade, so did the amount of clothes I wore. My abs were becoming famous and being asked to show them became almost a daily event. By March I told Coach Rod something I never thought would come out of my mouth. “You think the workouts are too easy?” he asked, his voice rising by an octave. The rest of the people in the gym came to a screeching halt. That freshman punk said what? was written all over their faces. “I was wondering if we could do this five days a week,” I said sheepishly. “I’m just not hurting the next day anymore.” A devilish smirk grew into an evil grin. “If you’re still saying that by tomorrow, you little prick,” he said coldly, “you’ll get your five days a week.” There was nothing hiding his belief that would not be happening. I puked twice, nearly passed out once, but that next afternoon I stood in front of his office and said I was ready for more. He was shocked. But the sparkle I saw in his eyes said he was also proud. By March, I “tipped” the scales at 165. I’d gained fifteen pounds in eight weeks! My arms were now a solid 15”, my six pack had become and eight pack, I was getting close to 5’9”, and my legs were beginning to look like a sprinter’s. Although the lightest guy in the gym other than me had to be 180, I looked bigger, and I was easily stronger. I was benching 225 for reps and could curl fifty pound dumbbells. By mid-March, I was 170 and had pretty much put any shirt with sleeves into cold storage. Although big for a freshman, 170 isn’t much to brag about in high school. One look at my hard and vascular arms would show just how much muscle 170 could hold. Spring break means nothing more than pools and days off for a freshman but I found a way to lose my virginity to a sophomore named Jenna Staples. That was when life took a little bump… The week after spring break, in the hallway between periods I was suddenly slammed against a locker and before I knew what was happening there was gigantic forearm pressed beneath my chin and pressing my neck against the metal behind me. “You fucked my girlfriend,” a pair of angry eyes said down at me. They belonged to Jesse Strand, a linebacker on the football team and one of the best wrestlers our school had ever seen. He was a junior and was probably the strongest person in the school. He was 6’1, over 210 pounds and, from what I heard, was one of those genetically gifted individuals who was far stronger than their size would imply…and his size was substantial. He wasn’t as ripped as me but at times like these that didn’t matter. “I didn’t…know,” I said with difficulty. I could see the bulbous shoulders and traps bulging under his shirt. His neck was as big around as some people’s thigh. “She didn’t…tell me.” He responded by pressing me harder against the locker. “Don’t speak, pretty boy, just listen. I… reminded Jenna why she chose me and we’re just fine now. You and I?” he said menacingly. “You and I got a problem.” He looked down at my sleeveless arms and sneered. “Those things you have may sway the ladies but these,” he said as he flexed his free 18 inch arm an inch from my face, “are for kicking ass.” A grunt from behind this overgrown asshole diverted both of our attentions from each other and to Mr. Reynolds, a science teacher, standing with a stern face over a pair of crossed arms. A moment later, Jesse turned to me again and whispered “this isn’t close to being over” before releasing me. I collapsed to my knees as he walked away. The whole episode probably took less than ten seconds but I still felt everyone’s eyes on me as they walked by. Although I my mind pooled with legitimate fear, rage and obsession covered it in an oily sheen. The feeling lasted until just after the final bell rang when I walked towards the gym at the back end of the school. I was in the covered walkway among a small trickle of students on their way to various after school activities when I suddenly found myself staring up at the aluminum overhead from the ground. Stars danced before my eyes. A second later, as I was forcefully pulled up by my neck, pain ballooned across the right side of my face and I felt blood pour from my nose. Jesse, now in a white sleeveless shirt that showed just how big his arms were, filled my view. I could hear the hoots and laughter of his friends behind him. “Let’s just say that love pat was the least you deserved.” Then he did something I had no idea would be as humiliating as it was: he spit in my face. My mind boiled in rage and before I could even think about it, I shot a bloody wad of spit right in his eye. My stomach dropped and panic took over while the spittle was still in the air. Blinking the return fire away, Jesse’s face turned a menacing scarlet and a dark vein started to pulse on his forehead. His friends stopped laughing, suddenly afraid of what might happen. He squeezed my neck, causing the tendons in his arm to bulge. My arms flailed in a vain effort to push him away. He grabbed them both by my wrists with his free hand. His grip was like a vice and the combined strength of both my arms couldn’t budge him an inch. Jesse looked around and I took the opening to do the same. Although no one was in our immediate vicinity other than his two lackeys, there were a couple lingerers in distant eye shot. Looking back at me, his bicep and deltoid bulged with power as he actually lifted me off the ground onto my tip toes to get my face right up to his. “That’s your second mistake.” He paused. “And you last. It’s going to take me a long time to do what I’m going to do to you,” he whispered in my ear. “Unfortunately, you look like a screamer. And we can’t be interrupted now can we?” He lowered me to my feet. “If I find you alone, you’re dead.” Dropping me, he walked away and didn’t look back as his buddies congratulated him for kicking the ass of a kid two years his junior. I wiped the blood from my nose, anger and fury boiling whatever fear and embarrassment I should have felt into nothing. I stormed into the gym, threw my backpack across the room, tore my shirt off, and practically demanded that Coach make this a day to remember. He did his best to comply, but within a few minutes couldn’t help but wonder if something was up. “What the hell’s wrong with you boy?” he asked sincerely as I wiped tears from my eyes after a particularly daunting set with the huge tire. I wasn’t crying, I told myself. The tears just came out with the strain of the last set. “Nothing,” I said mechanically. “What’s next?” That night, terrified and exhausted, I came home to find a letter on my bed. It was addressed to me with postage paid but there was no return address. Opening it, I pulled out a large folded sheet of paper that was about the size of a newspaper page when completely opened. On it was a colossal ink handprint, so big that my outstretched hand didn’t even cover the print’s palm. Below the print was a message, written in those familiar, clumsy letters. The message was simple and left me perplexed: Get ready. CHAPTER 8 I read the simple message a dozen times and my eyes kept wandering to that giant handprint. I remembered back to when my parents took me to a sports themed restaurant a couple years earlier. In front were about a dozen iron stands each with a ceramic basketball on its top. The balls each had a recessed imprint in it that replicated exactly the handprint of an NBA star. I remembered putting my hand in Shaquille O’Neal’s impression, amazed that a human could have that large a paw. All I could think at that moment was that this hand could engulf Shaq’s. I put the page down and looked at my reflection in the mirror. It was mid-March and I was now 173…and it was ALL muscle. My arms were over 16” and I was getting closer to 5’10” each day. I’d gained 20 pounds and two inches in height in only one semester. At this rate I’d be 210 and 6” by the beginning of sophomore year! Puberty was easily my favorite thing in the world…besides the feel of lifting heavy iron of course. I had actual pecs, not just bumps above my abs, and could bounce them like a real jock could. My abs were deep and veins were starting to show as they faded into my waist. They were also starting to appear on my arms and shoulders. I wasn’t huge, but I’d seen pictures of famous bodybuilders when they were my age and I could have held my own with any of them…well, most of them. Some of them. Anyway, I was easily the most built freshman in the school even if not the biggest. But there was a shadow over that celebration: Jesse was still bigger, and stronger, and was waiting for my guard to drop. Suddenly glum, I put the giant handprint away and grabbed my shirt to put it on. There were still a couple hours until dinner but I didn’t care. I was hungry. Good to hear from you, Casey, I thought as I shut the door behind me. * * * “Son, for god’s sake, slow down and leave some food for the rest of us.” That was my dad. He didn’t seem to like that I’d taken four steaks from the plate we were passing around. “Sorry,” I said, putting one back on the serving platter. My mom signed, but not in a negative way. “Guess we need to start cooking even more for you,” she said. My parents had grown accustomed to me eating three times what they ate in a given meal and prepared accordingly. My dad wasn’t as nonchalant about it as my mom. “I swear,” he said as he put the steak I just forfeited on his plate. “I remember eating a lot in high school but not this much.” “Oh come on Daryl,” my mom told him with a grin. “He’s exercising a lot. You didn’t touch a weight until college, and even then didn’t take it too seriously. We have a growing boy, so let him grow.” My dad just shrugged and started eating. I allowed myself to smile a little, relishing at how my upper arm was pushing against my sleeves. It was nice being the only child; I got their full attention and they didn’t like trekking into uncomfortable conversations. It wasn’t that I was starving, I just wanted food. Before dinner was over, I was able to convince each of my parents to give me half of their steak. 178, the scale said after dinner. I knew five pounds of that was in my digestive track but it was fun to imagine that I actually gained it in muscle. I took of my clothes, gave myself a quick pose in the mirror (laughing at the gut dinner had given me), then went to bed. It was only eight, but I was tired and there wasn’t anything left to eat. * * * I woke up to my alarm the next morning at 630, feeling as if I’d only slept an hour instead of the more than ten I’d actually clocked. I guess too much sleep isn’t such a good thing. I rolled out of bed and groggily made my way to the shower. I yawned at the mirror instead of giving it a good pose as I was accustomed to doing and turned the water on. The hot stream did a good job waking me up and by the time I started lathering I felt somewhat normal again. The cow I’d eaten the night before had apparently made its way from my stomach, for my abs were flat and hard again. I smiled at how weak they were a mere ten weeks earlier. These bulging discs could have stopped a truck. I toweled off and finished my morning routine which always concluded with a date on the scale. My jaw dropped. 177. Naked, emptied, and hungry, I was 177. Four pounds more than before dinner the night before! My heart thumped in my chest and my stomach jumped. I looked in the mirror, wondering if I’d had the biggest case of water retention in history. But I was just as ripped as always, if not a little more so. A quick measurement proved I was just a little bigger all over. My waist was still 29,” but my arms were now a little over my usual 16” and my chest was now over 41” where it was normally just below that mark. I threw the tape measure down and barked a laugh. What’s normal anyway? I thought. My “normal” hadn’t lasted more than a week lately with the way I’d been growing. Why question a good thing? I put on my standard sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts that just showed the bulge of my quads before disappearing under the hem. As I did every morning, I cracked six eggs in a skillet and put as many slices of bread in the toaster. Coming back to the eggs, I shrugged and threw the remaining six in as well. “We need more eggs!” I shouted to my parents upstairs, their response unintelligible but probably having something to do with saying they just bought some. While eating my morning feast, I began making lunch…sort of. Instead of my usual two sandwiches, I just threw the two pounds of bagged deli meat right into my cooler along with a few other random treats from the fridge. To my backpack I added an entire half loaf of bread, the whole box of protein bars instead of two, five bananas instead of one, and a pack of MuscleMilk I usually reserved for midnight hunger strikes. “Mom, we’re out of lunch food,” I said, throwing away the milk carton I’d just emptied. “Can I take a few dollars from your purse for lunch?” That wasn’t exactly the truth as I hadn’t really eaten anything yet, but it got the response I needed. After a distant approval from upstairs, I took a ten from my mom’s wallet and headed off to school, already eating one of the protein bars. That day had a familiar feel to it, although I couldn’t quite place why. It started off pretty normally with me joining my friends in front of the school. It wasn’t unusual to get one or two comments about my growing body and today was no different. “Fuck man,” my buddy Graham said as I approached while eating my forth protein bar and washed it down with the last swallow of water from the gallon jug I always walked around with. “You have GOT to get me into those training sessions Coach Roid is giving you.” He paused. “He’s not sharing his stash with you, is he?” he whispered. I was a little confused. Graham was a year older than me and was, if anything, the bigger of the two of us. I made a quick and, hopefully, subtle comparison of both our exposed arms and was pleasantly surprised to find out that mine was actually bigger. I grinned when I realized he’d noticed me looking and was flexing his hanging arm in a vain attempt to win this impromptu contest. I went ahead a flexed mine too, shooting my triceps up into a striated horseshow and making the veins on by bicep bulge. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “He’s kept me clean,” I said as I walked by. “Maybe we can get you involved in the fall. I’ll be right back, I need to fill up my water bottle.” The day started without much to talk about, other than being scolded by Mrs. Krebs in first period for eating during class. I sighed and put my half eaten back of turkey away. Although I wasn’t necessarily hungry, I craved food. The other teachers, thankfully, weren’t as strict about eating in the class and before long I realized I really would need the ten dollars my mom had given me. As first period became second, I was starting to get a little curious at the increased level of attention I was getting. It was all passive, no one actually talking to me, and I went to the bathroom a couple times to make sure my hair wasn’t stuck up and face was free of food. As second period moved into third, I strangely felt like I’d just finished the most insane workout of my life; my muscles were so pumped. Raising food to my mouth made my forearms squeeze against my biceps in a way they hadn’t before. By lunch, the feeling was even more intense. “Wow, I can actually see your abs through your shirt,” Carla said as she sat down with her tray. I looked down, wondering what she was talking about. She was right, my stomach pressed against my shirt tightly enough to show the ridges of my abdominal muscles. I’d been eating a lot that day so it didn’t really surprise me. What surprised me was that my chest was pressing against the fabric enough to make my cotton shirt look like form-fitting Under Armor. The shirt was hardly oversized to begin with, being a medium, but I knew it took some serious bulk to stretch it like that. All I could do was shrug. “Guess I’m getting a little fat,” I said as I took a bite of the burger I just purchased. Carla snorted, as did the rest of my friends. It was a strangely quiet and awkward lunch. I didn’t think much of it at first, absorbed as I was in eating. However, as I finished my meal, I realized everyone was looking at me. “What?” I asked innocently. They all looked at each other uncomfortably, none speaking until Jeremy Durst finally broke the silence. “Dude, you’re fucking huge,” he said simply. Everyone else rushed to confirm his comment and began asking questions. “So how big are your arms now?” Amanda asked. “About sixteen inches,” I said as I flexed it for the group. Most at the table wouldn’t know a 16 inch arm from a 6, but the few who’d spent any time in the weight room were quick to correct. “If those are sixteen inches, then mind can’t be over twelve,” Chandler said. I looked at my flexed arm, legitimately surprised as I took it in. It looked like a bodybuilder’s arm. A real bodybuilder. It was covered in veins and striations as it bulged from my arm like a softball. Chandler was right; they looked more like 17 inchers, or even 18. I smiled, finally letting the little voice I liked to ignore speak. It happened like this last time, sitting at this very lunch table. My stomach leaped into my chest as a rush of energy cascaded across my body. This is what happened to Casey. My heart fluttered and I suddenly felt invincible. Finally concentrating on something other than food and how to get more, I looked down at myself. It was like I was looking at someone else’s body. I gathered the rest of my burgers and threw them in my backpack before getting up. “I gotta go,” I said simply and left the table. I raced down the walkway, relishing at the feeling of my strong legs pulsing against the ground. I was easily over 180 now. What must I weight now? 185? 190? I laughed as I entered the school gym, rushed past the empty weight room, and went into the locker room. I stared at the scale as if it were a trophy and imagined it wreathed in a golden aura with angels singing. It was absurd but I was in that kind of mood. I stepped on and began sliding the manual adjustors, the course adjust to 150, and the fine adjust past 177…this morning’s weight. I kept sliding the marker past 180 and the bar didn’t move. My stomach leaped again as I pushed it past 190 and still the bar didn’t budge. “Oh shit,” I said, suddenly a little worried. I’m over 190 pounds! I screamed to myself, heart pounding. The bar finally broke to the neutral position at 196 pounds. Shocked, I turned and looked at the mirror. The man staring back at me could have won a collegiate bodybuilding contest. Striated shoulders bulged from my sleeveless shirt like melons, falling into triangles as they morphed into a ripped set of biceps and triceps. My traps pressed against my now humorously tight shirt and my neck looked like an oak trunk, well over 18” around. I tore off my shirt, revealing a pair of gorged pecs and the best set of abs I’d ever seen…on anybody. Ever. They looked carved from granite even though they weren’t flexed. I turned and looked over my shoulder towards the mirror, shocked at the rippling back I now called my own. It was a dream come true. I heard a creak from the door I used to enter and turned towards it. My heart sank. There was Jesse Strand, always reliably there to squash my best moods. That little voice started talking again, though, just as Jesse himself started to speak. “Look like we’re finally alone, fucker,” he said as he closed the door and locked it. “Looks like we can finally settle the score,” he began as he turned to look at me. His eyes widened in shock. “WHAT THE FUCK?” I was on him in an instant. He had put on a little mass this semester and was maybe at 215. I was “only” 196 but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on me. I knew I was a long shot from winning a fight with a star wrestler and had to settle this fast. If he had a moment to think, he’d have me. I punched him in the sternum, taking his breath away, then slammed the back of his head against a locker. He crumpled, gasping for air. I bent over as I grabbed hair on the back of his head and got right in front of his red face and hate-filled eyes. “Don’t you ever even look at me again,” I said before standing back up. I grabbed my shirt and started putting it on as I left locker room. I didn’t worry about him getting back at me; by the time he had a chance for revenge, I would be big enough to fold him into a pretzel. CHAPTER 9 The rest of the day was a blur. I couldn’t wait to show up in front of Coach Rodriguez looking like a teen titan. I barely noticed the stares and compliments from my classmates. My teachers could have gotten on their desk and danced the robot and I wouldn’t have noticed. Now that I knew I was growing, my body was all I could focus on. I felt strong and hard but the real rush came from knowing that I had complete control. I could be as big as I wanted; whenever I wanted. If I so desired, I could be 300 pounds in a few weeks! Who could say that? Who had such power? Even though I stopped my constant eating binge, I continued to swell until my lunch finally digested. The difference in my size between lunch and the end of school that day was visually negligible, but I could feel my skin slowly tightening across my body. It was like the best pump I’d ever had times ten. Hidden under my internal joy, however, was a slowly growing concern. They took Casey away because of this. Of course, at the time he’d been about 7’ and 450 lbs at that point with no signs of slowing down. That hand print alone proved he was bigger now. What would happen to me? I shook my head to clear it. Truth was, I wasn’t 450 pounds, I was will under 200. There were other freshmen as big as me walking around...although a little voice chimed in that most 200 pound fifteen year olds were probably a bit on the chunky side and not a chiseled slab of marble. I smiled at that thought but my thoughts quickly turned again. What would my parents say? I had begun to suspect they knew the events surrounding Casey’s situation in better detail than I did. What would they do when they found out their son grew almost twenty pounds in a day? Twenty pounds. Damn it felt good to know that. I was living in perpetual excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning continuously discovering there were more and more presents under the tree to open. My spirit lifted. If things got out of control, I could take some of the pills Casey left behind. It was obvious to me now those pills were used to reign in his growth, not help it. The doctors didn’t want a muscle mutant running loose but apparently neglected to take into account the habits of a teenager. I put my hand under my shirt on my way to the gym, feeling my new body and amazed at how hard the human form could be. The thought of taking those pills instantly vaporized. I would be giving any of this up, I would just have to keep it slow. Too late for that, squirt, I heard Coach Rod’s voice say. I groaned a little bit. If anyone would question my new size, it would be him. And he would know. I had to think of something. Fast. * * * “Well congratulations, boy,” Coach Rod said as he looked down at me from over the bar. “You just broke your personal best.” He might as well have told me I had brown hair. There was no excitement in his voice. I’d just benched 265 pounds eight times. A day earlier I couldn’t have bench 250 more than once. We’d been working out for 15 minutes and I was breaking personal records left and right even while holding back. I thought Coach would be thrilled, yet he had no energy. In fact, he sounded disappointed. I was at a loss as to why. It couldn’t have been my unusual workout outfit could it? I’d shown up to the session dressed in an extra large PE shirt and basketball shorts. That was my master plan to keep my size gains secret. That, and hiding the full extent of my newfound strength. Normally I wore a more flimsy pair of gym shorts and, like the rest of the guys in the room, was topless more often than not. He had had commented on the fashion choice when we first started but there wasn’t this resentment in his voice when he did. “Pullups,” Coach said, eyes dark under his furrowed brow. No, he mustn’t be feeling well. I smiled. I’ll give him something to feel good about. I jumped up to the bar and started cranking out pull-ups. Although he’d kicked my ass on this bar numerous times over the last couple months, nothing compared to that first day he made me do one hundred of them in one set. Well, I’d show him how easy it was for me now. I finished a hundred pull-ups in less than five minutes before jumping back down. My lats and biceps were on fire and felt ready to burst from my skin. It felt amazing. That said, I was barely winded and felt like I could do a hundred more if pressed. I smiled at him, waiting for praise or at least a scathing remark or two. He only stared at me with those cold bombardier eyes. I couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s wrong, Coach?” I asked, almost whiningly. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong?!” He threw his hands up as if begging the heavens for some lightning bolts to sling. “Where’s the fucking energy? Where’s the drive? You’re treating this session like a walk in the park.” He looked at me, eyes angry. “You’re not even fucking sweating. You…you’re wasting my fucking time.” My jaw dropped. This was not what I expected. Everyone’s eyes were on the two of us, his face red with anger, mine with confusion and shame. He was right, I had intentionally held back so he wouldn’t suspect something was up. It didn’t occur to me my results didn’t matter to him, only my effort. I felt my stomach sink. “Coach, I—“ I began before being cut off. “No excuses,” Coach said. “You come here to be worked and that’s final.” He put his hand on my shoulder in a rare moment of tenderness. “I mean I—“ he cut off sharply as he looked at the hand he just put on me. He squeezed it a moment, moved his hand to my arm, then squeezed that too. His eyebrows shot up and a cascade of wrinkles sprouted up his forehead and halfway around his shaved scalp. He looked around to the other gymrats in the room. “Alright ladies,” he bellowed loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Gym’s closed for the day. Get out.” The crowd wasn’t happy about that but didn’t dally as they left. All the while coach held my arm tightly, erasing any idea that he meant for me to leave too. Once the door shut behind the last student, coach exhaled and let go of my arm as he turned to me. “Alright, take the fucking shirt off,” he said as he crossed his arms. Although part of me was frightened of the ramifications, a bigger part just wanted to show off. I pulled the oversized tee off and gave the coach an eye full. To call the coach a one-dimensional man would be a crass understatement. The man had two emotions: in-your-face angry and asleep…and I’d never seen him sleep. Apparently he had another state in his repertoire. I think it was shock but I couldn’t be sure. I looked at the mirror to see what Coach Rod saw. The reflection staring back at me was hardly inhuman, but to find my proportions on a fifteen year old was unheard of. “Oh shit,” Coach said. “You too?” I turned to him, trying to think of an excuse that would subdue his horror. However, when I looked at him, horror wasn’t even on the menu. Behind the surprise still so evident on his face was what could only be called excitement. His eyes literally twinkled with it. Any doubt the twinkle was something else was crushed when he smiled and said, “So how big are you going to get?” I was at a loss for words. All I could do was stutter. “Calm down, son,” Coach said as he backed away to get a better look at me. “I mean, hell, I thought you were bigger when you walked in the room. And taller for that matter. I’m just glad I’m not crazy. Your friends little…episode…a couple of months ago shook me up a little.” He turned me towards the mirror and we looked at our side-by-side reflections. Standing next to a 6’2 250 pound man didn’t make me look all that big by comparison but, with the overhead lighting setting a dark shadow over each crevice of my body, I was about as defined as a person could be. “Come on,” he said, genuinely excited. “Let’s see what your new body can really do. No holding back this time.” He walked over to the bench. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Afterwards, you can tell me what badass supplement you’re using to get that big.” Coach and I learned exactly what my new body could do. I ended up benching 420 pounds and squatted 500. As could be imagined, every lift resulted in a new personal best. “Fuck yeah!” I roared as I dropped the bar to the floor after a 400 pound deadlift. I threw my arms over my head, relishing the pump that covered my body. My skin was pulled taught over every inch of my body. It was always a shock catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, that body surely belonged to someone else. “Fifteen years old,” coach said, mostly to himself. He shook his head. “I have to check something,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. Something he said earlier had me curious. I started for the locker room, wondering at how the cool breeze of the fan felt on my bulging body. I walked over to the scale, removed my shoes, and took the height caliper up from the base. It was time to see how tall I really was. “5’11,” Coach said over my shoulder. He’d apparently found a measuring tape and didn’t give me a choice as he started measuring my body. My waist was an incredibly taught 31” and my swollen arms had ballooned up to 18”…albeit with the pump of a recent workout included. My chest came in at 45.” “How’d ya do it, boy?” Coach asked, eyes burning. I pushed down the panic. Truth was, I had no idea how I did it. The blood experiment had obviously failed. I searched my mind furiously for an answer. He saw something in my eyes and raised both his hands in a surrendering gesture. “All right, all right. It’s none of my business,” he said. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wasn’t going to be sent to a hospital or something. Still, there was something else in coach’s eyes that wasn’t anger or disappointment. I couldn’t quite place it. “Listen,” he said, giving my shirt back to me. “I haven’t been fifteen since before your parents probably were, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like. I know what’s going on in your head right now.” He looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I’m not made for long lectures, which is why I teach here instead of a classroom, but you be smart now, ya hear? I don’t want to have to escort another giant on a one way trip to some government hamster cage.” I put the shirt back on, trying to figure out what the coach was saying. Then my eyes widened. “You know where Casey is?” I said more than asked. Coach looked at me from the corner of his eye. “We both have our secrets, kid,” he said simply before turning away. “See you on Monday.” I took the long way home in part to avoid an incensed Jesse but also to get my thoughts straight. Why now? It had been eight weeks since I used Casey’s blood. Was this sudden growth because of something else? My mind wondered and was hit by a truck when it considered the night before. The handprint, I thought to myself. Casey laced the letter with something. The message even alluded to it. “Get Ready,” it had said. I started growing that very night. I smiled and closed my eyes with my face up towards the warm spring sun. Thank you, Casey, I thought. A second later, I had my shirt off and in hand as I walked the rest of the way home. The rays set off my body with shadow and light, showing off my form in extreme detail. This body was completely and wonderfully alien to the one I had less than 24 hour earlier. My arms were pushed out by and constantly brushed upon lats that swelled from my back. There was a noticeable weight to my chest, as if gravity were paying special attention to my pecs. I didn’t even need to touch my abs to know how hard they were; they felt like a sheet of armor even from the inside. They were tight and hard even while relaxed. Every movement of my body made a muscle squeeze, some I didn’t even know I’d had. It felt amazing. A car horn broke my concentration and the sound of screeching tires made me turn towards the street I was walking next to. A few seconds of investigation revealed that someone was trying to get a longer look at me and slowed down. The person behind him wanted to do the same…without slowing down. I smiled even wider. I was quite a distraction. I got home a couple hours before my parents as usual, and tried my best to find clothes that hid my size. It was hard to do, since every glance in the mirror resulted in me stripping down to take a look at myself. All the while I was trying to make a plan. I couldn’t keep eating my way to becoming a giant like Casey… although my mind wasn’t as adamant about that rule as I would have liked. The thought of growing huge exhilarated me but my rational mind said I had a whole life to see how big I could get. I didn’t need to grow all at once…right? One thing all the voices in my head agreed to was that I needed to be a match for Jesse Strand. I couldn’t count on a surprise attack every time he wanted to take me down. If I could put on another fifteen or twenty pounds, I wouldn’t be such easy prey. Truth be told, I thought as I looked as my reflection with clothes on, I’m really not that big. Oh, I was jacked all right. But muscle is denser than fat and I looked perfectly normal with a nice baggy shirt and shorts on. Well, normal if you ignored the fact that my neck looked like it belonged on a horse…and my forearms bulged like a seasoned bodybuilder’s…and my calves looked carved from granite. Other than that, though, perfectly normal. I considered the whole package Casey left me back in January. Aside from the blood, he left his entire supply of what I referred to as Wuss Pills. Putting a few of those in Jesse’s meals on a daily basis would solve my problem: a few weeks of that and he’d probably have lost 30 pounds. I immediately discarded that idea. For one, it’s not like I had access to his food or water on a regular basis. And two…I wanted a fucking reason to put on more size. So it was settled, I would shoot for 215 pounds in six weeks. That was about a half pound a day. If I overshot, I’d take a pill. Simple as that…although the mere thought of one of those pills made me want to gag. My first step was maintaining a normal rapport with my parents through the whole thing. This proved easier than I thought and I finally began to understand how parents of psychos could end up saying “I had no idea he was capable of that.” Both commented about how big I was getting but neither cared to entertain that something might be wrong with their baby boy. My dad looked a little suspicious at times but I didn’t ever give him a reason to say anything. Besides, what father didn’t want their son to become a stud? So my plan worked perfectly…for a while. It turns out I actually didn’t have to eat much to gain weight. It was like my body became a high efficiency engine. 3000 calories a day was enough to gain my half pound. I actually had to consume less than I was used to. It was the best few weeks of my life: every day my clothes were a little tighter, my body a little harder. It was too small for anyone to see day-to-day but I found out people had longer memory spans than the previous 24 hours. “What are those things measuring now?” Chandler said in front of school one day. “A little over eighteen,” I said shooting him a bicep flex that stretched the seam of my shirt. He snickered, jealousy flashing behind the eyes of a friend who once outweighed me by five pounds or so. “Weren’t they a little under eighteen only a week ago?” “What can I say?” I asked with a smile. “I’m a growing boy.” Those admittedly frustrating responses had the desired effect of redirecting their focus to admiration instead of questioning. My workouts with Coach Rodrigues continued as always, only now every day consisted of a personal best in one lift or another. The man acted as if everything was normal, but he still had that distant look in his eyes I couldn’t quite make sense of. Three weeks into “Project Mass” and I was 207 pounds of granite and steel. Life was bliss…then came a Friday morning in late May, almost six weeks after my initial run-in with Jesse strand. The morning started off like usual with me walking up the schools front lawn to hang out with my friends before first bell. I made sure I ignored the stares I got as I learned making eye contact with my fan base only made them uncomfortable. A couple minutes before class started, I noticed my friends suddenly stare worriedly over my shoulder right as a hand violently grabbed my neck from behind and threw me to the ground. I gasped at the jarring pain from my back as my backpack broke my fall. I didn’t have time to gather my bearings before two solid hands grabbed me by the collar and yanked me to my feet. Two familiar eyes burned a few inches from my face. “We meet again, you little fuck,” Jesse said to me, his voice surprisingly baritone. He had avoided me since I sucker punched him in the locker room. I’d only seen glimpses of him since between periods which was ok by me. Now up close, I gasped. Dressed in a skin tight wifebeater, the man in front of me was not the buff but meaty junior he was three weeks earlier. Apparently, he’d been hard at work during that month long hiatus. Jesse has always been big and no one would have ever called him fat. But there had been a beefiness to him common to teens focused on mass. It isn’t common for a high school kid to be both shredded and massive. That kind of combo usually wasn’t possible until college…unless you were me. Jesse apparently found a recipe. Although still about 220, his meaty arms were now ripped boulders covered with flaring veins crawling that exploded from his strained shirt sleeves. His neck was as vascular as mine, only more bulbous and with mountainous traps rising up to the base of his skull. His pecs and abs bulged from beneath the tight cotton shirt. I was no slouch being only fifteen or so pounds lighter, but Jesse was a fighter and had the edge in both size and skill. He pulled me close, as he seemed so keen on doing every time we had these little chit-chats. “We’re doing this old school,” he said with an evil grin loud enough for everyone to hear. “You and me, after the final bell, under the overpass. We’re settling this.” Then he dropped me. That I remained on my feet was only a slight victory. Jesse barely seemed to notice as he sneered before walking away. The lawn was as quiet as a graveyard as I straightened my ruffled shirt. “I’ll be there,” I said to his back. That sent all the mouths in the area ablaze with whispers. I’m sure everyone thought I was terrified, which I most certainly was. Jesse’s absence from my life these last weeks were a gift I didn’t question. I’d just assumed my locker room sucker punch convinced him I shouldn’t be messed with. Now I new better; guys like him didn’t cower, they hunkered down. He’d apparently spent the last weeks completely dedicated to bulking up. Who knows what kind of steroids that kid has to use to look like that? I allowed a smile to stretch my lips as the first bell rang and all the students and their gossip-riddled voices walked into the school. I stayed put for a moment, letting everyone disappear, then immediately walked off campus. * * * A few hours later I stood looking like a fool in a newly bought XXL long sleeve shirt and sweat pants at the door of a Chinese buffet, feeling somewhat guilty about the financial ruin I was about to submit on the proprietor. Eleven am hit, the door was unlocked, and I sauntered inside looking like a nursing home pimp. I was relieved that no one questioned why a kid my age was at a restaurant instead of school. That probably said something about American values but I didn’t dwell on it. I was there for one thing and two minutes later I was at my table with two plates piled high with food. I mentally felt my body, currently dwarfed in my tent of an outfit. A few weeks ago I would have considered myself visual perfect. Anyone of any age would have killed for the body I had. Yet I wanted more. I looked at the food and dove in; beginning what I figured would be the longest lunch of my life. I went through plate after plate after plate. After my second helping, my body started to feel flushed and an anxious feeling started to flow through me. It was as if I were drinking liquid excitement. The feeling intensified and I soon felt as if I could run a marathon in ten minutes. I almost tried; it was hard to contain myself. My energy levels soared and it took an effort not to jump out of my seat. I wanted to laugh in delight. Soon after, my body started to feel funny. It was as if my muscles were tight from sitting still too long. As I continued to eat, I did things like shrug my shoulders and stretch my calf by raising the front of my foot. It seemed to help so I kept at it, ignoring the looks I was getting from the other customers. They must have thought I was on something. In a way, I guess I was. I tensed my abs and arched my back, then pumped my chest and arms. Soon the excited feeling in my body began to feel strangely similar to an orgasm, only prolonged as if continuously on the verge. I flexed my calves; worked my leg up and down to cycle my thighs; twitched my arms and pecs; shrugged my shoulders again. Every time I flexed, it felt like my muscles relax a little before slowly tightening up again. That feeling of excitement didn’t go away though; neither did my desire to eat. I never got full. I got another helping. As I got up to collect my forth helping, I almost stumbled for no apparent reason. It was if I had to rebalance myself. I exaggerated my step, squeezing my glutes and flexing my quads and calves. It felt amazing. I felt something else too. The fabric of my sweats didn’t feel as baggy anymore. Bending my arm as I held my plate seemed to pull at the fabric on my back. I also felt my arm bulge against my inner arm in a way I hadn’t before. I smiled. There was no doubt about it, I was growing. CHAPTER 10 I sat calmly on a natural outcrop of stone under the overpass, waiting for my eventual showdown with Jesse. School was still technically in session but a trickle of students was already making its way from down the road. If I was lucky, this would all be over in time to train with Coach Rod. He might find my new developments…interesting. Although a hundred cars sped across the interstate overhead, the span beneath it was isolated, known only to the homeless, the addicted, and the kids from the local high school…not a place any of our parents would approve of. Everyone congregating at the base of my castle did their best to leave me alone as I sat stoically in my long sleeve hoodie and sweatpants. A dead man didn’t like to be disturbed. I smiled at this but remained at a distance; no need to ruin the surprise. I was still taking it in myself. The me of eight hours ago would have worshiped the person I’d become. I felt heavy; I felt powerful. I half believed I could rip the ten foot high granite mound I was sitting on out of the ground with my bare hands. My new muscles yearned to be used and it was a demand I found extremely hard not to obey. This must be what a tiger felt like waiting to pounce on his prey…only my prey wasn’t here yet. I was accompanied only by my thoughts, which were scattering across my mind like swarming ants. I found myself wondering if this was a dream. I flexed my arm, watching it fill my baggy sleeve like a balloon. I could see every crevice and striation through the fabric, even the cable-like vein which ran down the face of my bicep. But it wasn’t the sight that thrilled me, it was the feel. The feeling of that bulging ball of muscle squeezing against itself was like having sex; it was impossible to describe the chemical rush that it created. This couldn’t be real. But it was. And it was amazing. But those ants that raced through my mind were calling out in terrified little voices. They’d started to scream their warnings while I was at the restaurant and hadn’t died down. Something wasn’t right. I shook my head, what could be wrong? I had to outweigh Jesse by 40 pounds now and I was strangely positive that I was even stronger than I looked. I worked my hand, balling them into fists then opening them and spreading my fingers wide. They wanted to hit something so bad. I’d give them their wish by allowing them to break Jesse like a twig…again. But that worry remained, unfocused yet intensifying. Meanwhile, a small crowd had assembled at the base of the stone, forming an impromptu circle in the middle. Situations like this were probably among the most primitive displays of humanity, right up there with public executions and anyone who’s last name was Kardashian. But just as with those latter examples, people flocked like lemmings to witness this happen. I noticed my friend Chandler walking up the crag towards me, his face lined with worry. He wore a tight green t-shirt, showing off what most would have considered a nice body for a sophomore. It was lean and ripped in the style so popular these days. I could curl him with one arm, I thought with a smile. “Dude,” Chandler said as he reached me and turned to look at the crowd. “Everyone noticed you weren’t at school today. There were rumors you were going to puss out.” I chuckled and remained seated with my arms resting on my kneecaps and hands dangling between them. My friend was barely six feet away; would he notice I was bigger? “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Chandler said as he looked back at me. “I’d have shit my pants twice already. Anyway, Jesse wasn’t at school today either. He left soon after first period. Maybe he was looking for you to make sure you didn’t try to run away.” I shrugged but something in what he’d said sent mind boiling all the more. What made you grow? my brain suddenly asked me. I began to reply that the letter with the handprint had been laced with something but, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. Chandler apparently took my silence as a request to keep talking, which he did. “You may have bulked up enough to convince the freshman class you’re some kind of god but but Jesse’s easily the strongest guy in school and that was before he started looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger.” He coughed in his hand and wiped whatever came out of his mouth on his pant leg. “Fuck me, I’ve been fighting this cold for weeks now.” I raised my head, heart racing. “What did you say?” I asked, slightly shocked at the new baritone of my voice. I wasn’t the only one caught off guard; Chandler was looking at me like I had two heads. “You all right?” Chandler asked. “You sound like you have a cold too.” I started to say something I hoped would put my friend at ease but the competing and overlapping little voices suddenly found a unified message and the floodgates opened. I did catch a cold, I thought feverishly. It just took a while to show all the symptoms. That’s how colds work. They gestate, then attack. I grunted in frustration and again flexed my arm, allowing it to swell and pull my sleeves tight. How had it not crossed my mind earlier? There was no chemical laced hand print. The mere thought of that seeming logical was absurd. “Holy fuck,” I heard Chandler say but ignored him. I wasn’t doing a good job hiding my size at the moment and didn’t care. It wasn’t the handprint; it was Casey’s blood after all. It just took a few weeks to take effect. Puzzle pieces I’d subconsciously kept separated until now finally locked into place. Casey had a disease and they fixed it with another disease. Now I had that disease…so the disease was contagious. “We gotta go,” Chandler said, his voice shaking. “You have to GO!” I stayed put but looked up. The crowd at the base of the hill was looking up at me and slowly backing up, their faces a sea of surprise. Did they suddenly notice how much bigger I’d gotten too? You have a contagious disease! my mind screamed, pulling my concentration inward again. I had a disease that took weeks to show all of its symptoms. I put my hands on my head, trying to force my brain to just spit it out. So what? I thought. No one injected my blood into their ass cheek. Suddenly a terrible thought came to mind that made my whole body tense. I heard a tearing sound, barely noticing that my bicep had ripped through the sleeve. I looked up at Chandler, who I realized had raced down the hill to join the others in their retreat. Why were they running? It didn’t matter; nothing mattered now. The terrible thought had turned into a terrible memory… Jesse, now in a white sleeveless shirt that showed just how big his arms were, filled my view. I could hear the hoots and laughter of his friends behind him. “Let’s just say that love pat was the least you deserved.” Then he did something I had no idea would be as humiliating as it was: he spit in my face. My mind churned with rage and before I could even think about it, I shot a bloody wad of spit right in his eye. …By body ran cold and I felt myself shake. He didn’t need to inject himself; I’d given it to him for free all those weeks ago. I knew the transfer of some strange disease through a bloody wad of spit was highly unlikely, but in my heart I knew it had happened. It explained how he’d turned into such a jacked teen in only a few weeks. More puzzle pieces fell into place. He knew what he was suddenly capable of, I thought. That’s why he wanted to do this after school. He needed time. Time to do the same thing I had done. Only he took everything to the extreme. I have to get out of here, I thought frantically. Now! I looked up at the crowd, all of whom were either running away or still looking up and slowly backing away. It had only been a couple seconds since Chandler’s innocent cough triggered this rush of enlightenment but many in the crowd were already gone. “What the—“ I started to say out loud before the second dreaded realization slammed home. The dispersing crowd wasn’t looking up at me. Their eyes were too high. They were looking behind me. I stood up cursing, stumbling as I tried to turn at the same time. The effort resulted in me falling back against the rock. I looked up and finally saw what had forced Chandler and everyone else to scatter. Jesse, clad in nothing but skin, had made his way up the back of the stone heap, and he made my last image of Casey look like a wimp. I didn’t know what the giant in front of me weighed? How much does a bus weigh? The new Jesse had to be a head above seven feet tall. His face was void of any youth he once had, the baby fat now replaced by hard muscular lines. His neck, as big around as some people’s waist, was a bundle of writhing snakes of muscle and sat upon traps that started at the base of his skull and bulged like watermelons to striated shoulders the size of pumpkins. His arms, which looked over 30” around, flared to the side to make room for a set of traps that could double as wings. Pecs as thick as my head bulged from his body and sat atop a cascade of abdominals that could have been mistaken for masonry bricks. A dick the size of my forearm swung between a set of thighs I wasn’t sure I could wrap my arms around. They tensed and relaxed as Jesse took his final menacing steps up the crag, each one capable of kicking a hole in a brick wall. “Miss me?” he asked, his deep voice booming across the under pass. He reached down before I could react and grabbed me by the neck. His shoulders and arms bulged with all the more power as he lifted me effortlessly up to his eye level. Just like Casey’s before, Jesse’s body wasn’t grossly asymmetric or bubbly like you’d expect from someone so massive. Instead, he was a giant with normal proportions. Whatever this disease was didn’t discriminate by growing only major muscles. The small muscles people couldn’t isolate in weightlifting grew too. He looked like a superhero. Jesse’s eyes inspected me and he barked a laugh as he tore my shirt off with his free hand, revealing my own Olympian body. “Looks like you tried to come prepared,” he snarled as he flexed an arm that was bigger than my head. “But I always beat the other guy when it comes to conditioning.” He drew me close. “I suppose I should thank you for sleeping with my ex-girlfriend. I seemed to have picked up whatever you got…and took it to a place you could only dream of.” If my windpipe weren’t gasping for air, I would have groaned in frustration for forgetting such an obvious form of infection. Was Jenna, the girl in question, also a muscle goddess now? Now was probably not the time to ask that question. Jesse made sure of it. The two of us were alone, the other students scattered now to the wind, Chandler included. I couldn’t blame him. Jesse radiated with power that could crush me without thought. What would such a mentally unstable person do to a much smaller innocent bystander? I found myself wondering how he’s gained so much mass in only eight hours. I’d eaten pretty much non-stop for four before the owners of the Chinese restaurant ushered me out. It didn’t matter. The only question that matters was whether I’d live through the afternoon. I did what any cornered animal does, I kicked and screamed and punched without thought. Every time I made contact with Jesse’s body, I winced in pain. It was like punching a brick wall covered in skin. Jesse grunted in slight discomfort but that wasn’t much of a victory. He responded by squeezing my neck, choking off what little air I had. He laughed as my vision began to blur and head throb. “I can’t have you catching up to me anytime soon,” he said as he took my arm with his free hand and started to bend it awkwardly as if to break it. Pain flared from my elbow and shoulder but seemed distant and diluted as I slowly lost my grip on consciousness. I distantly wondered if his laugh would be the last thing I heard when a series of alien sounds came pouring from the surroundings. I heard Jesse curse and suddenly I was on the ground, performing a strange combo of deep gulps and throaty coughs. My senses were still dull as the world exploded around me. I could make out people coming from random directions, some monsters themselves. I saw Jesse run naked down the same side of the crag he’d just ascended. Apparently these newcomers were big enough or numerous enough to scare him. I got to my knees, still without a full idea of what was happening around me. My head pounded as I ran in the opposite direction from Jesse, not caring if anyone followed as long as I could get away from the monster that nearly killed me. But I must not have been important enough. The sounds slowly faded behind me but I didn’t look back to make sure I was alone until a couple of miles later, when I fell to the ground gasping for breath. “What the fuck?” I said aloud as I got to my knees. Fear still clouded my thoughts but at least I had control of my senses again. My vision had only just recently returned to normal. I had absolutely no idea what just happened and was still scared out of my mind. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my parents. I didn’t care that I knew I was acting like a kid. I was a fucking kid. I turned and made my way home; ignoring the stares and honks I received from passersby. Who were those other people? I didn’t get a good look at them but they may have been as big as Jesse, certainly bigger than me. I looked down at my body, surprised something so amazing could still seem small to me. But it was. I was bigger than Coach Rod now, but that seemed like nothing. I stewed the afternoon’s events as I made my way home, growing gradually calmer but no closer to finding answers. Half an hour later, I was walking up my driveway, only slightly surprised to see my parents’ cars in the driveway. It was only a quarter to five. I didn’t care. There was no hiding what I was now. They’d have to see me sooner or later. I opened the door and walked in, still dressed only in shoes and sweatpants. I instantly saw my mom, sitting on the couch and eyes rimmed with red. She’d been crying. She looked up at me, eyes dull and uncaring at first but growing wide as they dawned with recognition. She moaned. “Mom, I—“ I started but suddenly noticed movement in the room. A man in a tie and slacks stood up from where he was seated next to my mom. Another dressed in a plain black suit and tie with white dress shirt stood in the far corner of the room, seemingly trying to take in the whole room with one look. I stepped back, heart suddenly slamming against my ribcage. What was this? “Jordan Baer?” the man getting up from the couch asked sternly as he started to pull something from his pocket. I nodded, confirming my identity. He nodded back. “I’m Dr. Thornton.” I remembered the name from a conversation with Casey; he was one of the doctors responsible for his miracle cure. “Please sit,” the doctor said calmly as he sat next to my blank faced mother. “We have much to discuss.” THE END
  21. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Hey guys, things are getting intense in this story. There are a couple ways it could go next and if you have any routes you would like it to take in particular, leave a comment! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday Night: Wrestling. Part 6 I’m lying on my back in my bedroom with my eyes closed. Many thoughts run through my mind as I lie there. “Troy broke up with his girlfriend,” I whisper to myself. “No,” I respond. “She broke up with him…” I honestly have no clue. Who did the breaking up and why? My bed begins to vibrate and I am jolted out of my thoughts. It’s my phone. I pick it up and read the message. Just another text from Joy. “Shit.” It is 6:30 and I planned to meet with Troy an hour after dinner. I ate dinner at 5:30 and I remember seeing him there. So technically we should be meeting now. “Maybe he’s just waiting for his food to digest,” I say to myself. “Or maybe he’s too upset to wrestle after his break up.” I hope that he wasn’t too upset. I really hoped we could wrestle today. I felt like he was finally...VRRRTT! VRRRTT! My phone vibrated again. It was a message from Troy! Troy: Hey man, I’m ready to wrestle! Meet me at 6:50. I quickly change into my singlet and in 5 minutes I am walking into the gym. I make it my biggest priority not to mention his break up. He is already in front of me, sitting on the mat, looking at the ceiling with blank eyes. Yeah, I definitely should not bring it up. I walk over to the mat and hearing my footsteps, he opens his eyes and smiles. “Hey, bro,” he says quietly. He lacks his usual energy and that bothers me a little. I try not to let it show. He is wearing an extremely tight black compression shirt and a pair of tight, blue running shorts. This makes me a little happy. He’s still wearing clothes that show off his bod. Good. “You ready for this man?” I say. He laughs. “Ready for what exactly?” “To get your ass kicked,” I say smiling. His eyes widen at what I say. “I will fight as strongly as I can, but I’ll be honest. I don’t mind being dominated by you at all.” I hesitate to speak. I was not expecting that. “Game on,” I say. We get on the mat and move into our positons in front of each other. I size him up and look into his eyes. They have this deeply serious look. Like a threatened animal he looks at me with so much intensity that I begin to feel afraid. We continue to look into each other’s eyes. There’s tension in the air and he is beginning to breathe heavily. His chest and shoulders begin to raise up and down. Then suddenly he lunges at me. He pins me to the floor, his chest directly on mine, and I immediately flip him on to his back. “You’re faster than me,” he says. “But I’m stronger.” “We’ll see” I say. He rolls onto his knees and lunges at me again. I quickly dodge him and I’m on his back in an instant. I pin him down and all he can do is grunt and whine beneath me. He tries his best to get out of my grip but it is no use and he eventually taps out. I let him go and in a flash he turns around and is on top on me with both hands clamped over my wrists. “Whoa!” I say. “This is cheating!” “Well I gotta do something to beat someone so experienced.” The word experienced slips off of his tongue as if it had some sort form of double meaning. I wonder what he meant. I can’t move and he continues to look into my eyes as he pins me down. My dick twitches a little from the position I am in. I need to move. “Fine,” I say. “You can cheat a little you big baby.” “Prepare to get owned” He lets me go and we go at it again. This time no rules. Troy plays dirty. On two occasion his hand made harsh contact with my cock and balls causing me intense pain and giving him an advantage. I knew he was doing it on purpose, but I didn’t want to seem like a bitch so I fought through it. He pins me down about three times before I begin to notice that he is a one trick pony. Each time he pinned me he had a handful of my cock and used it to his advantage, but now I was ready. I saw his hand coming down and dodging it, I grabbed for his arm and spun him onto his back. Then I did something risky. With one hand pinning down his left hand I used my other and put pressure onto his own dick, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Oh fuck!” he says. His eyes close shut and his head tilts back in agony. I jump on his stomach and pin him down. He gives up easily. That was the beginning of the end. I pinned him 4 more times after that within seconds and he begins to get angry. “You’re going down, man!” he yells at me. Anger is in his eyes. We are both sweating. But Troy is soaked from how much effort he is putting into fighting me. He rips off his shirt, his hard pecks and abs in full view now and I’m caught off guard that I have no time to prepare myself when he tackles me. His sweaty pecs touch my face and I can feel the dense, hard muscle push against my teeth. My cock springs to life and I’m fucking embarrassed. Shit. “Look how the tables have turned,” he says. “Not so fast!” I say. I wiggle beneath him and be begins to laugh. Luckily I wiggle just enough to free my leg and I bend my right knee right into his crotch connected with his rock hard cock. “Ugh!” he yelps and rolls onto his side with both hands over his dick. He lays there for a second and suddenly he springs back to life and comes at me again. I have time to react and duck. He tumbles over my back, grabbing my spandex as he falls, and pulls me onto him. He lies on the floor on his back holding me in his arms, my back to him. I struggle but eventually break free and try to stand. He grabs at my legs and I fall back onto him. My face lands directly between his legs and I basically lose my shit. His shorts are so thin that I can feel his dick pressed against my cheek. I can smell the musk from his dick and I get harder than I was before. The awkward part is that my dick is also in Troy’s face and he doesn’t seem to give a fuck. I feel like this moment is frozen and I don’t move and suddenly I am flipped on to my back and I see Troy with hatred in his eyes. He jumps at me but I dodge him quickly and make I am quickly on top of him with both of his arms pins. “Shit!” he yells. He struggles beneath me like a wild animal. He seems crazy. Withering like a mental patient wearing a straitjacket. His breathing is heavy and his eyes and face are red. Then suddenly he calms down. His breathing slows and his eyes begin to glisten. Tears drip down his face, adding to the sweat on his face and he looks so pitiful that I let his arms go. I stand up and put my hand out to him. He slowly raises his hand and I help him up. “How are you doing, Troy?” I say. “Are you ok?” “No… but I think I will be.” “What’s going on?” “My girlfriend…She left because I didn’t want to give up bodybuilding, but I’ve been thinking a little. Maybe I should stop.” “But she was wrong for wanting to ruin your dreams of being bigger and stronger.” Troy turns away from me and continues to speak. “I don’t think I should let her go.” I get angry at this. There is no way I’m losing him to some bitch who can’t see something amazing in front of her. I grab his shoulder and turn him around to face me. “You are strong! Look at these arms, these legs, and those abs.” I lightly punch each body part as I describe it. I notice his cock violently twitching through his shorts as I do this and his hand quickly clamps down on it. “Don’t give up on gains, man. You can find someone else, maybe someone as into body building as you. Someone just as strong.” “Who then?” he says. “Uh… I don’t know man.” “Exactly.” Troy stands, picking up his shirt and putting it back on so he can leave. “What are you going to do, Troy?” “I think…I think I’m done with lifting. I quit bodybuilding!” His fists are clenched and are turning red. “I’m doing it for her…” he says and walks away, leaving me in the gym alone.
  22. Hey dudes, here is part 4 of the story. If you haven't read the previous chapter, here is the link. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Wednesday Leg day: Part 4 I walk into the gym with Troy, both of us with our pre-workout bottles in hand. I can tell that Troy is pumped. He shaking a little and I can’t tell if it’s from the pre-workout or the idea of working out again. “I fucking love leg day, bro,” he says. Yeah, definitely pumped about working out. I love this go get em attitude. “Let’s do this man!” I say. We walk past the front desk and into the weight room. Zeus and Kris are missing so I won’t have any partners today. This day is already starting to suck. Damn. “Von!” Russ yells from across the room. “Kris and Zeus are sick so I’m partnering you with Troy today.” “Sweet!” Troy exclaims as he begins to softly punch me in the abs. I smile and shrug him off. “Alright bro, let’s go!” Russ tells us that our first exercise will be back squats, so we walk over to the bar. “You should go first. I have a feeling I’ll need to add more to what you’ll put on,” Troy says. I laugh. “You cocky bastard!” “Hey man,” he shrugs his shoulders and puts up his hands in surrender. “I’m just being honest.” I agree and load the 45 pound bar with a 45 pound plate on each side. Troy stands behind me in case I’ll need help and I begin my reps. After 10 reps I stop squatting and put the bar back. My ass is already feeling the burn, but it’s a good burn. “Alright bro, let me show you how it’s done” Troy says. He makes his way over to the plates and adds an extra 35 pounds to each side. That’s 205 pounds on his first set! That’s way more than my bitch weight of 135 pounds. “Fuck man!” I say. “Are you serious?” “Watch and see.” He begins his squats and I am in awe. He slides up in down with ease and each time he comes up a power burst of air blows from his mouth. All I can stare at from behind is his ass; it looks so powerful. Each jacked globe poking through his tight joggers. The grey joggers strain as his ass grows beneath them. If only he didn’t have them on. That way I could see the full power of those muscles and view them with pleasure. He finishes his set and sets the weight back down. “Your turn.” I walk to the bar. I’m intimidated by him now. I want to try the weight he just did, but I don’t know if I have it in me. I don’t want to take any weight off the bar because I’d feel like a little bitch. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I make my hard decision. “I think I’ll try 8 reps with this weight,” I say. “Oh really now?” he says. “Guess my heavy set got your competitive juices going, huh bro?” He claps me on the back. Oh yeah. Game on. “Something like that,” “Alright, show me what you got. I’ll stand close to be sure you don’t fall.” I immediately put the bar on my shoulders and start the set. The weight is heavy and I can already feel it hurting my back. “Shit,” I mutter. “Don’t worry bro, I got you.” Troy comes up behind me and puts both hands on my waist as support. I feel jolts of electricity shooting through where his fingers are making contact. Must be the pre-workout. I squat down and the weight is insane. My legs tremble but I keep pushing. He’s still there for me and supports me through it all. By the 8th rep I am beat, but I feel accomplished. When I put the bar back Troy looks at me with impressed eyes. “Way to go man!” he says. He goes for another ab punch. I let him get me once and then I block his next punch. He’s such a bro. “Alright,” I say. “Your next set.” We blast through our workout. After squats we go to leg presses, leg curls and leg extensions. I try my best to keep up with troy, but the man is a beast. He powers through it all like a train and by then end of it all I am beat. Class is over and I check my phone; it’s 3:40 and my wrestling buddy Ethan has texted me. Ethan: You, me, Jason. On the mats. Today. 4:00. Bring your singlet. Good? It seems that Ethan wants to practice a little today. Back in high school I wrestled a little, but I never joined the team. It wasn’t until I came to college that I found myself liking more and more wrestling. Ethan, Jason and I all joined the team our freshman year, but college gets busy and we never had time for matches so we would just put singlets on once a week and beat each other down when we could. I reply that it sounds like a good plan and walk with Troy to the locker room. Once inside he immediately begins to strip down and is once again standing naked in front of me. Thankfully I am used to it after our last jerk off session. His cock flops between his muscled thighs still swollen from the workout, and I try to avoid looking at his thick meat. “Ready to shower bro?” he asks. “Nah man, I can’t today. I gotta get changed into my singlet for a little wrestling.” I walk to my locker and pull out a blue singlet and begin to change my clothes. I feel him watching me as I pull off my shirt. “Wrestling?” he says as he begins to scratch his twitching cock. “I didn’t know you wrestled.” “Yeah man, actually, I wanted to ask if you were interested in a little wrestling yourself.” My shirt is off and I pull down my pants and boxers, now completely nude. I can still feel him watching me and decide to toy with him. “Like what you see?” I say. His eyes widen and he is completely taken off guard. I stand there nude, dick out and he still doesn’t look away. “I’m just seeing that you are getting stronger. That’s all, bro,” he says and laughs. “Thanks for noticing.” His dick is starting to get hard and his hand is doing a terrible job at covering it. I decide to put the singlet on before he blows. At least I think I’m the reason he is getting hard? With Troy, I actually don’t know. “I’m gonna go shower man. Maybe I’ll wrestle another day.” I’m a little disappointed…Ok I am very disappointed. Guess I’ll have to figure out another way to get to him. “Alright man, I’ll see ya.” I now have my blue singlet on and he continues to stare. My bulge is clearly seen and each outline of my defined abs poke through the shirt. My pecs stand out like shelves. I look great and I know it and so does Troy. After a few moments of staring he quickly turns around and runs to the shower, hand on cock. I have a good idea of what he is about to do. In fact, I think I already hear moaning. Hahaha. I walk out of the locker room and make my way to the mats with a smile on my face. I kind of wish I took Troy up on his offer, but I can’t leave Ethan and Jason waiting. It’s 3:50 now and they are already out there waiting for me. “Sup bro!” Ethan exclaims. He daps me up and throws me into a strong bro hug. After he lets go Jason comes by and fist bumps me. “You ready bro?” Jason asks. “Hell yeah man. Who am I gonna destroy first?” I say. “You mean who are YOU going to be destroyed by!” Ethan says. “That will be me!” Ethan is about an inch taller than me. He has pale white skin, long black hair around his ears and has a similar physique to me. The only difference would be our biceps and our chests. His bicep are jacked as fuck. I’ve measured my biceps and they are barely 13 inches un-flexed and I know just by looking at Ethan that his chiseled arms are at least 16 or 17 inches around. My chest, however, is thicker than his and although he beats me in curls I am a stronger bencher. Jason is dark-skinned like me, but a little lighter than I am. He is a little smaller than me. He weighs about 140 pounds compared to my 150 bulk and I can honestly say I am going to love dominating him. They are both wearing black singlets and are ready to get the fight for power started. Ethan and I get in our positions on the mat and so it begins. Ethan’s arms are powerful so I am at a little bit at a disadvantage, but I somehow manage to take him down by ducking under his arms and grabbing him around his waist. I slam him to the floor and he lets out a puff of air. “Fuck man, you’ve gotten stronger. I flip over and pin him down with all of my strength. We are both sweating now and I’m pumped as hell. I can feel a twitch in my cock. I’ve needed this for a while. I’ve needed to dominate. Ethan looks vascular as fuck. The veins covering his arms and stretching to his pecs pop out of his skin. He is tired and decides to give up so I move on to Jason. As Ethan walks off the mat I noticed that his dick is standing tall, poking through his tight singlet. “Having fun there?” I say. He looks down at his dick and turns a little red. “Don’t worry about it,” he says and laughs. I take on Jason easily. I am fully hard now and I don’t care. If Ethan can be aroused, I won’t be ashamed. I flip Jason over and end up on his back. My dick is in his crack and he grunts and struggles beneath me. This just makes me feel even more powerful. I’m so turned on that I could burst at any moment. I also have this strange feeling that I am being watched, but I ignore it. We continue to wrestle for the next 30 minutes. I’m on my last match with Ethan and I still have this nagging feeling that I am being watched, but I continue to dominate my two contestants. When we are finished wrestling, it is agreed that I am stronger, but next time Ethan knows he can beat me. Afterwards, Ethan, Jason and I are all sitting on the mats dripping sweat. My dick is still hard as a rock and I look down and see than Ethan’s dick is still proud as ever. All three of us are pumped. “Looks like someone needs a good cum,” Jason says. He swings his hand down and smacks my clearly visible dick. “Shut up,” I reply and I begin to laugh. “Ethan’s dick is just as hard as mine.” “Probably harder,” Ethan says and winks at me. We all break out into laughter at this comment. I look up and I see Troy, watching with his eyes wide open in a mix of admiration and shock. I knew that nagging feeling wasn’t just in my head. I wish I had known he was watching us earlier. I’m still hard and I have a little pre-cum showing through my singlet which I really don’t want him to see. I’m freaking out so I pretend I didn’t notice him. “We should get changed and head to class,” I say. “Right!” they both agree. They grab their gym bags and we rush back to the locker room to change out of our singlets. I follow closely behind them and I almost make it to the door when Troy is suddenly standing in front of me. They go in without me and I’m startled as fuck. I thought he would have left by now. "Hey, dude!” I say. “Did you just get here?" “Yeah dude. I just finished showering and saw you on your way into the locker room.” Strange….he lied to me. I know he was watching me wrestle. Why wouldn’t he admit he saw me? Then again, why did I pretend I just saw him? He is wearing jeans and a polo while I stand here baring all in my singlet. All I can think about is what he thinks of my body. He seems confused. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t quite know what to say. "So it looks like you guys were wrestling?” he says as he lets out a small chuckle. He smiles humorously pointing at our singlets. "Yea!" I say and laugh. "How did that go?" Troy responds. "Oh, we were just sparring and getting a decent workout at the same time." Troy nods his head in dull agreement. It looks like there is so much more he wants to say, but it seems that he doesn’t know how to express himself. "So who won?" he asks. I feel like being super modest so I won’t come off as a douche. I know he saw that I wiped the floor with my bros, but I lie anyway. "I mean, we just kinda wrestled each other and tried different moves to pin each other and see if we could escape the moves or reverse them. It wasn't really an official match, haha." Holy shit. Why am I rambling? "Cool," he says with a hint of underlying excitement. This entire time I’ve been standing with both hands covering my still bulging crotch. I’m still sweaty and a bit exhausted and just about ready to change. "We were heading back to change now,” I say. "No one really wants to walk around in these suits. It’s a bit embarrassing." I don’t want to feel like I’m rushing the conversation, but standing here is making me insane so I slowly start walking towards the locker room door to hint to him that I need to change. Surprisingly, he starts to follow me. "Nah man, don’t be embarrassed,” he says behind me. “You look like a beast in that!” “You don’t say?” I reply in the cockiest voice possible. “It shows off your pecs better than anything!” He gives a full happy smile but turns his face sideways to avoid eye contact. "Thanks man," I say smiling. "It’s always cool when you encourage me. I…I like being your friend." Troy takes a deep breath in as he searches for what to say next, but his face goes into a trance so I speak again. "Well lemme go change. I smell horrible.. I'll see you in Western Civ later, dude." “Yeah, no doubt.” I make my way into the locker room and as the door closes behind me I think to myself. What the fuck was that?!?!? My phone starts to buzz and I check and see that it’s a text from Troy. Troy: Hey man! We should definitely go running tomorrow morning and work on our back and biceps after. I’ve been thinking and I want to take you up on your wrestling offer. Let spar tomorrow after dinner! Take it easy on me bro. You’re a tough dude. Flex at ya later
  23. Hey guys here is part three of A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains. Here is the link to part two. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8710-a-college-weight-room-story-the-path-to-gains%C2%A0/#comment-89862 Enjoy! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Part 3 Outside. Tuesday Morning. Cardio and Abs Day: I wake up to my phones alarm at 8:45. I grab it from underneath my pillow and turn the alarm off. There’s a text from Troy. Troy: Morning bro. I’ll be at your front door a couple minutes before 9. Be prepared. It’s a nice day out. I jump out of bed and take off my clothes; my roommate has left for his early class so I have the freedom to walk around my room naked. I go into my bottom dresser drawer where I keep all of my gym gear and throw on a pair of black compression pants and a blue stringer tank top. Then I grab some black gym shorts and drag them over the compression pants. It would feel weird running in just the compression pants themselves. I can’t have the imprint of my dick visible for the whole campus to see. Before I leave my room, I look into the mirror. Perfect, the stringer hangs low enough to keep my pecs visible. The juicy round globes burst through the stringer and I’m not even pumped. Next, I grab a small bag and fill it with spare clothes and put it on my back, then I go downstairs and head for the front door. I check my phone as I open the door and I see Troy has texted me again. He’s already outside. I go out and he’s standing in my driveway wearing a fitted grey shirt and a pair of fitted bright yellow compression shorts that show a clear imprint of his heavy cock and balls. What… how… why is he wearing that outside? I can’t believe my eyes. He wears the shorts as if showing off his junk is a normal part of his day and I try not to look down at his cock. I gather my thoughts and try to behave normally. “You got here fast,” I say. “I woke up early and I was so pumped that I had to get here!” “Let’s do this then!” I reply excitedly. I really want him to turn around so my eyes stop wandering to forbidden places. “Yeah, let’s go!” he says and immediately turns around and breaks into a run. I start running and follow closely behind. Oh shit, now I have his tight ass to look at. Squats have really been doing him justice. I can see each ripple of his chiseled glutes through the yellow shorts. I try to focus on something else and I raise my eyes to his back. I can see his mountainous traps poking through the tight grey shirt, riding their way up his thick neck and I crave traps of that size. I need to have traps that huge. I notice darker spots appearing on his shirt and he begins to slow down to an eventual stop. “That’s one mile down,” he says. “One more to go.” He then strips off his shirt, revealing his solid abs and finely haired chest. He has a little happy trail that doesn’t take away from the marvel, but increases it. It makes him seem manlier. He turns and run again. I try to focus on other things as we run: the science buildings, the freshman dorms, the trees, the nice 70 degree weather, but his recent shirtlessness has all of my attention. I stare at every inch of his back as we run. His entire back seems to be flexed as he runs and I wish I could stand and punch it repeatedly to feel the power I know it holds. We stop in front of my house again after two miles and I am beat. “Alright,” I say between breaths. “That wasn’t so bad. Now I need to go to the gym and work on abs.” “Abs?” he asks. “I actually need to work my abs, bro. Can I come with?” “Hell yeah, bro! Why not?” We walk to the gym from my house. Troy puts his grey shirt back on and a little bit of my anxiety shrinks. I was starting to lose it from seeing him shirtless. It’s a short walk; takes less than 2 minutes. We show the desk worker our ID’s and head into the weight room. “So what do you usually do for abs?” Troy asks. “I start off with weighted ab crunches,” I say as I walk over to the weight rack and grab a 45 pound plate. “Ready, bro?” “Wow man, that’s a lot of weight. How many reps do you do?” “40.” “Jeeze.” He looks nervously at me. “I’ll try.” My world suddenly stops for 2.5 seconds. Did he just say he will try? I think I may have just found his weakness…Abs. He grabs a 45 pound plate and we make our way over to the floor mats. We both lay on a mat and begin doing crunches. Troy seems fine in the beginning, but he begins to slow down. He stops at around 26 reps, but I keep pushing. He looks over at me as he lies on his back with eyes that subtly hint at jealousy. “Damn Von, your abs are stronger than mine!” I push to 40 and then lay back, breathing heavily. “I know you have 3 more sets in you,” I say. His eyes basically pop out of his face when I say this. I smile cockily at him. I seem to have a lot of control in this situation and I have to keep myself from laughing. “Um...Maybe you have 3 more sets of 40. I’ll go for 20.” “Haha ok man.” I am awestruck that I finally found something I am better at. We finish our sets and move on to doing ball crunches, then hanging leg raises, then Russian twists. Our abs are burnt out so we head to the locker room, grabbing towels from the front desk on our way over. He walks into the restroom first and I take a leak. Troy takes his shirt back off and begins to flex his abs in the mirror. I finish peeing and walk over to the mirror. I take off my shirt and start flexing my abs too. Troy can't be the only one to put on a show. “Your abs are getting solid, bro,” he says. “Thanks man, you aren’t too bad yourself.” His abs are red and twitching beneath his skin. My hands are twitching to punch those muscles, to feel the solid impact, but I’m too nervous to ask. “Alright, I need to get clean. It’s shower time!” he says. He walks into the locker room and I follow behind him. He goes to a locker and removes his clothes for the day. I set my little bag down on a bench and take off my shorts, leaving on the compression pants. I look up and my body stalls. Troy is standing with his back towards me with his hard, chiseled ass out in the open. His ass is as white as the moon and his huge round cheeks look strong enough to crush bricks between them. I stand there with my compression shorts still on and he turns around. “Aren’t you gonna shower?” he asks. Troy is standing in front of me completely nude with just a hand covering his cock. “Yeah… I’m just… I’ve never seen anyone get naked in here before.” “What?! That’s what locker rooms are for!” he replies, both hand waving in the air, revealing his flaccid 5 inch meat. “The locker room is a safe place to be naked and enjoy it and the best part is that people can admire your body and you can admire theirs without any consequences.” He starts flexing both biceps as if he is being watched by anyone other than me; his cock is swinging between his legs mercilessly. He turns around and does a double bicep back pose, extending one of his legs and revealing his heavy balls between the cracks of his thighs. He turns around and I look back at him awkwardly. I notice that his cock is starting to get a little hard and he knows it too, his hand makes his way down and he starts to stroke it. “Let me help you, bro,” he says.” He walks forward, still semi-hard, gets down on one knee and grabs the band of my compression pants, ripping them down and revealing my 4 inch, flaccid, black cock and ass for anyone to walk in and see. His head is extremely close to my cock and I am paralyzed with fear. He looks down at my dick as if it was a normal part of his day and gets back up, turns around and walks to the shower. “Let’s go, man.” I follow behind him and he stops at the first shower. I go to the second, but barely make it past him before he slaps me on the ass. HARD! The sound resonates in the shower area and I jump a little. “Damn, bro. Those squats are doing you justice.” “Thanks,” I say and chuckle nervously. “Same to you man.” “You haven’t felt these beauties man. Give them a good squeeze.” He turns his back to me, his ass waiting to be worshipped. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grab both of his ass cheeks and give them a hard squeeze. They feel like rocks in my hands. “Fuck,” I say. He begins to clench his cheeks and I feel so much power in my hands. It is getting harder for me to breath and I start to get hard from his clenching, so I let go. “Alright,” I say. “Shower time.” I walk into my shower and he goes into his. I hear his curtain close and his water turn on through the thin shower wall and I start to relax. I turn on my water and I make it extra hot. That was close. I feel the water rush over me and I start to breathe normally again. I desperately need to cum but I will save it for later. After two minutes, I hear something from Troy’s shower that sounds an awful lot like moaning. “Troy, you ok over there?” Uhh…I’m gonna be honest with you because you’re my bro. It’s been a while since I had sex with my girlfriend.” “So that means you’re— “Spanking the monkey, chocking the chicken, beating my meat, yup!” I can’t believe it. I’m in total shock. “Oh…” “Hey man, there’s nothing better than a good orgasm after a workout. Get hard and try it out!” He didn’t have to tell me twice, I was already hard and hearing him moan through the thin shower wall turned me on. “I always like feeling my pecs and nips when I jerk it. It makes my cock drip so much,” he says over the rush of the water. I begin to stroke my cock and then I hear his moaning. I begin to go faster and he gets louder. I start to moan and he hears. “There you go bro! That’s good shit right there. Fucking bust your nuts all over these walls.” I completely lose it at his words and blow all over the place. I moan in complete ecstasy and I hear him huffing and grunting as his wad shoots from his unseen hard cock. “Ugh..fuck!” he say. “I really needed that,” “Me too” “Well it was nice to do it in your company man.” We both finish showering and walk out of the showers, still naked but not awkward anymore. We walk to our clothes and as we get dressed, I see that his cock is still red and semi-hard from the tugging. “We should shower next to each other more often. It’s way more fun!” Troy says. I’m a little thrown off by what he says but I keep it together. “Haha yeah. Sure man.” “So see ya for leg day tomorrow?” “Yeah, for sure.” We are fully dressed by this point and walk out of the gym. Troy and I leave the gym and he fist-bumps me before we go our separate ways. There are so many questions in my mind. I know Troy is straight. He has never shown any sign of curiosity. He has a girlfriend, but why aren’t they having sex? I’m turned on by Troy, but only because he’s a strong alpha and I admire that. I admire how competitive he is and how he pushes me to be stronger. I know that I’m not feeling love for him, but today was strange. He’s never been this close to me before. He literally stripped me down today. Something is changing in Troy and I think I’ll start pushing him a bit to see what will happen. I know just how to push too… Wrestling.
  24. Hey Guy! Here is part 2 of College Locker room heat! Here is part 1 if you have not read it A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 2 We walked into the weight room. Troy, still behind me, comments on how stoked he is that the gym is almost completely empty. He is walking beside me now and I can see that he is pumped. As we walk into the weight room I notice that his fists are clenched and the veins in his arms are pronounced from his tight grip. His biceps and forearms are swelling from the force of his grip and I admire the power in his arms. “Like what you see, man?” he asks. I’m startled. I did not expect him to acknowledge I was checking out his gains, but of course he did. He’s Troy. He would want me to look at his chiseled body. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m 150 pounds of thick pulsating muscle. My pecs press through my shirt like balloons and my legs are thick enough to crush trash cans between them, but I still stare in awe at my gym buddy’s body. “Your arms are vascular as fuck,” I say. This makes him smile in the cockiest way. “I’ve been working on my biceps a lot too,” he says. “They’ve gotten to the point where they constantly looked full when they aren’t even being flexed. Touch them and see.” I reach for his bicep and I am not disappointed. He was right. They felt like rocks and he wasn’t even flexing. I can feel his veins pumping the blood through his rock hard biceps. Each pulse making my heart beat faster. I look up at his face and he has this smug look. Such a cocky alpha. I need to be as strong as him. His 170 pounds made me feel weak in comparison. We continue into the class and make our way to the racks and benches. Our class consists of 8 students and our instructor, Russ. When one usually thinks of a gym teacher, they may imagine a lazy, averaged height, fat, balding man who sits and watches his class put in work. Russ is not this kind of teacher. He is 6ft tall with biceps as thick as his thighs, sick ass traps, and a barrel chest that would make (and probably does make) any man his age jealous. His forearms are amazing and look almost as big as his arms themselves. He is about 60 years old and his age can be seen by his thinning hair that reveals the lightly tanned skinned beneath, but he has not let his age slow him down. “Alright class,” Russ says. “You already know what today is so let’s split up into groups.” Troy and I are split into different groups. I with my 2 fraternity brothers, Zeus and Kris, and he with his two buddies. Zeus and Kris are both heavy dudes. Zeus about 250 pounds and Kris about 200 pounds. Both have body fat percentages about 25% or higher but they are both strong. Zeus could easily out lift me any day with his gorilla chest and tree trunk thighs. Kris has also slowly been getting stronger. His strength nearing my own. Each group is assigned a station. Mine is assigned decline bench press and Troy’s is assigned dumbbell bench press. Zeus begins his set by loading 45 pound plates to each side of the bar. Kris decides to spot him so I am left standing and looking around the room. I look over to Troy’s group. Fuck! The first thing Troy does is grab 2 of the 75 pound dumbbells to chest press. I am in complete awe. He is so fucking strong. I can see his pecs protruding through his white sleeveless shirt. Each muscle is his arms begin to shift as he pushed harder and harder. His face turns red and sweat begins to glisten on it. He pumps out 10 reps and throws the weight to the floor in a fit of power. I can see his juicy fucking pecs twitching beneath his shirt, fuller from being pumped. He stands up and starts stretching his chest out, his triceps flexing out with full force. I’m starting to lose it. “Vonny?” I turn around. Kris is looking at me and I’m embarrassed. “It’s your turn,” he says. I look down at the declined bench and immediately add 20 more pounds to the bar, making the weight total 155 pound. I know I have this. I lay down and start pushing, it’s heavy, but so damn satisfying in my hands. There’s no better feeling than the pump you get from pushing yourself. It’s like having a near death experience. The fucking thrill from it blows your mind and completely electrifies your body. I pump out 6 reps easy and notice that Russ is standing aside watching me. Being viewed by the instructor pushes me to go harder and I pump out 4 more reps. With every rep comes a satisfying grunt from my throat and I can feel the sweat building up between the peaks of my pecs. I finish and when I get up from the bench Russ immediately pats me on the back. “Damn Von!” Russ says. “You used to be so small and now you are so damn strong!” Everyone in the class is looking at me with congratulating eyes. I see troy too, but his facial expression is strange. It’s a mix between two things, admiration and a hint of jealousy. He walks over to the rack and grabs two 85 pound dumbbells. Holy fuck! With a loud grunt he lies on his back and forces the weights above his head, pumping hard and fast. He reaches 6 reps and begins to make animalistic snarls through his teeth. He pumps out another 4 reps and tosses the weights to the ground. His buddies are ecstatic. The skinner of the two, Marv, is especially excited by what he just saw. He can barely get 45 pounds over his head and Troy is a beast to him. He’s a beast to me. Troy stretches out his chest and tell Marv to give it a good punch. I watch as Marv’s fist connects with Troy’s meaty chest repeatedly. Troy has no reaction to the punches, a smile still on his face. So powerful. “Time to move on the barbell bench press,” says Zeus. Class moves by in a rush and I eventually make my way back to the locker room. Troy in already there. He is shirtless and his back is turned towards me. I can see every ripple and bend of his powerful lats and bulging traps. He shifts to grab his shirt from the bench and I see the muscles beneath his skin move. They shift like pebbles beneath a slow moving stream. Smooth… but hard and firm. He hears the door open as I come in and he stops and turns around. His pecs are completely swollen! There are red spots between the peaks and a little bit of hot sweat dripping down the swollen meaty cavern towards his abs. “I don’t know about you, but I got a good pump today!” he says. “Hell yeah man. I feel strong as fuck,” I say. “You look strong,” he says. “Thanks bro.” “Can you grab stuff with your pecs?” he asks. “Huh?” I have no clue what he means. I walk farther into the room towards the bench. “Give me your hand, man,” I hold out my hand. He grabs it and places it between his pecs and with flexes them. “Holy fucking shit!” I say. I can’t help the response. His pecs clamp down on my hands and I can feel the hard muscled grip. I’ve never felt pecs as powerful as these before. He looks at me with the cocky smile he always gives and then asks me to try doing the same to him. I rip off my shirt quickly and let him place his hands between my pecs. I grip his fingers but it isn’t as strong. “You are getting there bro,” he says. He removes his hand and walks back to his clothes. I’m a little disappointed by his response. I want him to see me as I see him. An aesthetic god. “So dude, we are for sure going running tomorrow morning. I need to get my cardio in. 9 am sharp?” “Yeah, how about we meet at my frat house?” I reply. “Good plan man. Good plan” He and I get dressed and leave the locker room. I can’t wait for tomorrow! Cardio day with Troy is going to rock!
  25. Hey guys, I accidentally posted this is the wrong place, but I 'm leaving it here now. So I got a decent amount of good responses from my last real life muscle experience called College Locker Room Heat. Here’s the link to it if you haven’t read it. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8409-college-locker-room-heat/#comment-85672 A few little things have happened since then, but since things have died down (not many muscle interactions lately), I will begin to dip into fantasy and create a few stories involving more interactions with myself and my gym buddy. Who knows, maybe they will come true one day. Here’s the first new story. Btw I didn’t put my gym buddies name but let’s call him Troy. Also, just so you know; Troy is White about 5 ft 8, brown hair, weights about 170. The narrator is Black 5 ft 5 and 150 pds. More Growth is to come. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 1 I walk into the gym after 2 and a half hours of classes. I’m pumped! I downed 2 shots of pre-workout on the walk over and I’m already feeling it. My hands and arms are already tingling as I make my way past the basketball court. I turn left and go into the locker room. As soon as I walk in my heart skips a beat. Troy, he’s here again. He immediately sees me as I walk in. “Hey bud,” he says. He looks at me with wide eyes and a warm smile. “Hey man,” I say. He’s fully clothed but his shorts and gym shirts are sitting in a pile on the bench in front of him. I walk up to the bench and take off my backpack, setting it down on the floor by the bench. “So when are we going for that run, man?” he says this as I reach into my bag. I take out a tank and a pair of joggers. “Oh yeah,” I say. I hadn’t forgotten, but I didn’t think he was being serious when he asked the first time. “How about tomorrow–morning?” He begins to take off his shirt and my breath catches a little as it slips up. His abs are a little more pronounced than before. His shirt slips completely off revealing his pecs and massive traps. He’s gotten a little bigger since our last gym sesh. “That sounds good, man. I’ll definitely text you and remind you around 9 tomorrow.” “Sounds good to me,” I say. He starts to take of his pants and I strip my shirt to change into my tank. His eyes flicker to my pecs and I notice. A sense of pride swells up inside me and I have to stop myself from smiling. I had gotten a lot stronger this month. My bench had gone up from 145 pounds to 155 in the past month and I knew he noticed. I doubted he would say anything though. “Man! You’re looking huge. Your chest is really growing.” He walks a little closer to check me out and my pride swells even more. He’s still shirtless and in his boxers. His pecs and thick shoulder muscles look even better up close. I look down at his massive pecs. There are little hairs around his nips and I imagine what the stocky muscle underneath feels like. I can’t believe he’s mirin me when he looks so huge. “Dude!” I say. “You are way bigger than I am. I know you weigh like 170 and I just hit 150 pounds!” “Nah man, you are catching up. I mean look at these arms!” he says this and grabs my bicep. “Flex for me bro.” What the hell is happening? I think this but I decide to flex anyway. I can’t believe he is touching me. I flex my arm and my relaxed biceps turn into hard rocks. He gives them a good squeeze and says, “Yeah man, that’s strength right there. Your arms are almost as huge as mine and I need to bulk up before you’re as strong as me.” Troy’s unsubtle hint at a competition got me way more pumped. The pre-workout was flowing through my veins now. I’m ready to workout and get this chest pumped! He looks down at my watch and sees the time. “2 o’clock. Shit, it’s time for class, bro.” He lets go of my arm and gives my traps one last slap. “Damn. Man! Getting big!” he says. He walks back over to his clothes and slip them on. I finish getting dressed and we make our way to the locker room door. He slaps me on the back. “Nice back gains, bro.” I smile. He’s mirin me so hard. I can’t wait until we start lifting. He’s gonna love my pump… To be continued.
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