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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. The first two parts are here: Part 1: Part 2: The Connections After a few minutes of trying to compose himself from what just happened, Roman quickly scoots over to an empty corner of the room where he can find something to shield him from the heavy breathing that is projecting from his husband Nathan. He can hear him snarling as the hulking beast attempts to stand up but crashes down into one of the chest of drawers in the room. He is obviously extremely disoriented. Roman covers his mouth so he doesn’t let out any kind of noise. Before long, the furry wolfman jump up and goes through one of the hotel room windows as glass flies down to the ground beneath him from their thirteenth floor balcony. The Italian gets up to see that Nathan is now running down the highway as car alarms go off and people are screaming. He can hear this going on for a few minutes as he disappears into the distance. Roman goes to retrieve his cell phone again and calls someone else that he knows. “Come on…..come on…..pick up…..” The phone rings several times before someone finally picks up the call. “Hello Roman, I assume that something has happened if you are calling me.” The Italian sits on the hotel bed and wipes his forehead trying to calm himself down. “Umm of course, I think you know what has happened.” The man on the other end sighs a few times before he speaks again. “Did your husband go through a change? Have you been hurt in any way?” “No I’m fine. He was completely out of his mind and jumped out of one of the windows here and went down the street. I have no idea where he went though. Please, I don’t want him to die from all of this insanity. You promised me that he would be able to live with this.” The man sighs again. “Okay, just tell me what room you are in so I can come over and we can talk a little more about this. I have people that are tracking him down as we speak. It turns out that he isn’t the only wolf on the loose right now. There are others besides him. Just stay put.” They both hang up and Roman spends another twenty minutes going over the situation in his mind. There is a knock on Roman’s door. He gets up from the bed to go and open it after hesitating a bit. When he does, the man rushes in and walks over to the broken window. He then opens the balcony door to look over the side before going back into the room. “We need to leave now Roman. People are going to get curious if we stay here.” He looks in the bathroom and sees the catastrophic mess in the shower. “WOW, and I thought Domino’s change was extreme. This is really horrendous. I guess his body needs to adjust to its new host. *looks at Roman* Grab your stuff, we need to go now.” As they both leave the room, there are hotel personnel and police officers coming around the corner. Both Roman and the other man manage to take cover just in time. They find a set of stairs that go down to the main floor and out into the parking area. The man points at a dark van and tells him to get in. The man starts up the van as Roman gets into the passenger seat and they slowly creep out of the parking lot. They start talking to each other again. “Okay, I think we should see which direction your husband might have went Roman. Who else knows about this anyway?” Roman pauses for a few moments before he admits that he called Domino’s house. “You called Domino? What did you tell him?” “Well…..actually I spoke to some Spanish guy there. I think he might be his assistant, but I’m not sure.” The man stops the van at an intersection and looks over at Roman. “You spoke to a Spanish man? Hmm…..that must be Carlos then. He was just changed him into a wolf himself at a meeting the other night. They must be fucking each other than if he answered the phone.” Roman looks at him puzzled. “Do you think that Domino is attempting to create an army of werewolves in the city?” The man starts driving again. “I think maybe he thinks that he can change all of his male employees into werewolves. I know he specifically wants Bulgarian men at his company because they are born with an unusual gene that makes them very powerful when provoked. Not all of them though are able to do this. I should know because he has attempted to do this to me in the past.” Roman makes a few ‘hmm’ sounds before he speaks again. “How close have you gotten to Domino?” The man smiles at him and winks. “I would say quite close. I have engaged the wolf in him many times and it has taken a liking to me. Of course I have pleasured it as well so I know that it won’t kill me on purpose.” “How do you not change when it scratches you? I know that can happen when you are having sex with it.” “I am immune to the wolf curse. *shows his clan tattoo behind his ear* See that, I am part of a group that studies the behavior of lupines and how they can further their agenda. I am glad that you have elected to help me and my kind Roman.” “Well, I just hope that I am making the right decision including Nathan in your studies as you call it. What is your name by the way? You never told me before.” “You can call me Val if you want. Let’s go and find your husband now before he decides to kill a whole bunch of people.” The two men continue to follow the destruction that Nathan has left in his way before it finally stops at an old factory on the edge of city limits. They both slowly get out of the van and creep around to one of the garage doors there. They can see that it has been ripped open and peek inside. Valentin takes a few deep breathes and slowly moves through the opening. After a few seconds, he puts his arm out motioning for Roman to follow him inside. They can both hear several different types of grunting and gnashing noises coming from the center of the warehouse. They can see that there are four wolfmen feeding off of three victims they have killed together. This intrigues the Bulgarian greatly because he is wondering why they would not fight each other for what they would view as being an alpha. Roman and himself are trying to stay close to the back wall and not make too much noise as they navigate towards one of the abandoned offices that is near them. When Valentin tries to open one of the doors, the creaking sound it makes interrupts the eating of the pack and they turn around quickly with them still munching on their food. The Bulgarian immediately puts both of his hands over top of Roman’s mouth since he can tell that the Italian is about to freak out and scream. One of the werewolves sniffs the air and is now walking towards them. It is quite obvious to Val that the wolfman recognizes Roman as its deep brown eyes fixate on him. Val grabs Roman and tosses him into the office doorway as the werewolf charges him. Roman scoots quickly underneath one of the computer desks in the room to hide. The other wolves are now jumping into the office and begin to search for the Italian as he squeezes himself in as far as he can. He closes his eyes when he feels one of them starting to breathe on him. The wolf reaches its huge heavily-muscled furry paw in towards him with its claws fully retracted. He covers his mouth hoping that he can somehow avoid being killed as the wolfman’s huge claws start to slowly shred his shirt and pants as it attempts to pull him out from under the desk and into its body. It is obvious to Roman that it wants something other than to eat him. The wolf’s cock is starting to emerge from its sheath as it starts to leak precum onto the floor. It reaches underneath his torso and rips the back of Roman’s pants out and yanks his briefs off as well revealing his hairy bum. The wolf makes a few deep grunts as it grips the frightened Italian by his sides before flipping him over to try and penetrate him. It runs its thick tongue up and down his back before slowly sliding it into Roman’s winking hole. Roman yelps feeling the thick mouth muscle massaging his anal cavity as he is lifted onto the desk so the horny animal can get a better grip on him. After a minute of this, the wolf starts to push its bloated rod inside him but before it can proceed further, it is hit by a long silver object which makes it let out a terrible squeal before it falls down onto the ground. Another werewolf attempts to jump over the one of the ground to attack someone, but ends up nearly in the same predicament as it also yells in pain before passing out onto the ground as well. A hand yanks Roman up off of the table and stands him up. It is Valentin who has somehow survived all of the carnage going on around them. He checks Roman’s backside and checks to see if his skin has been pierced in any way by the wolfman and somehow it miraculously has not. He hugs the scared Italian as he scans the room to check where the other werewolves are moving around at. “That was too close Roman. *shows him a silver staff* There is a reason why I carry this. If it comes in contact with them, it makes them automatically react and causes them to revert back into their human forms. Unfortunately, I have to get pretty close to them to pierce their skin.” There are lots of cracking and crunching sounds echoing throughout the room as Valentin turns to see that the werewolf that was trying to attack Roman is someone that he knows from Bulgaria. “I should have known…..Petr…..what are you doing here? If he is here, then that means that……” The other one that fell on top of Petr is someone else he recognizes. “Georgi? I knew this would happen. *sees the third man in the office* Now who the hell are you?” All three men are groaning as they start to come around from their wolfy hangovers. Roman is still in shock from the whole situation as he starts to stumble past Val and staggers out of the office. He turns to see that Nathan is trying to stand up after leaning up against the office wall. He was also knocked down onto the ground after his confrontation with Val. The man is dazed and confused as the Italian rushes over to him to help him up. He hugs the blood soaked stud as he kicks all of the furry debris and gore away from beneath his feet. Nathan hugs him tightly and softly whispers into his husband’s ear before moving away from him again. “Why is this happening to me?” He looks down at his freshly formed skin and notices that he is naked. He groans a little as Roman starts to walk him towards one of the bathrooms that are located beside the office area. They enter as Nathan’s husband leads him over to one of the sinks and turns it on. He lets it run for a few seconds before he starts to run water over top of his well-muscled partner’s stained beard and starts cleaning it with his hands. Nathan looks into the mirror behind Roman and sees the torn fabric in the shape of a wolf’s claw on his back and notices that his husband’s hairy ass is completely exposed. He panics. “Oh my god no, did you get raped by one of us?” Roman shakes his head. “No, thank god that Valentin was here to stop the werewolf that was on top of me. He has some silver staff that he uses to protect himself with.” “So that must be how I became human again. I sensed it deep down, but I couldn’t stop the other me from attacking anyone.” Roman manages to find a stack of paper towels in a dispenser and starts using them to clean off more of the blood on his husband’s well-muscled neck and chest. He is surprised at just how thick Nathan’s chest is. His pecs and nipples are much larger than they were the last time he saw him. After finally getting his chest clean, the Italian slowly starts to clean off his husband’s lower half. He is surprised to see that even Nathan’s cock and balls have blood on them. Just breathing on them makes them react as the bloody stud goes fully erect as his cock stands up into the air. His balls look to be quite full as well as their color changes to resemble two purple golf balls. He looks up at his husband who smiles down at him. “I am not going to help you with that right now Nathan. How could you be so turned on by all of this carnage?” Nathan shrugs his thick shoulders. “I don’t really know Roman. I suddenly feel extremely horny and I can’t seem to control it anymore. I guess you will have to help me with that as well.” Nathan’s husband coats a few towels with soap and uses them on his thick 9x6 inch rod before putting some clean water on top of it to clean off the rest of the blood. The well-muscled stud presses his huge quads and huge rod against his partner and rubs a few droplets of precum onto his sweaty cheek. He grunts a few times trying to communicate with Roman without saying a word. “You are not the same Nathan I once knew. I don’t remember you ever being like this before the change. I will do this for you this one time, but I don’t want to get any of your jizz on me because I don’t know how toxic it is to me.” Roman slowly starts jerking his husband making him buckle as a long strand of precum spills out of his engorged cockhead and dribbles to the ground each time he rolls his foreskin up towards his thick cockhead. His engorged balls tremble as he grunts deeply and grabs his husband’s head making Roman a bit nervous. “Be careful Nathan, I don’t know how strong you are now. You might accidentally hurt me.” Sweat is now pouring profusely from Nathan’s body as it starts to roll down his huge muscles and onto the ground joining his precum. He moans feeling his load building as his precum flows a bit thicker. His breathing intensifies as he feels the beast from within him starting to navigate to the surface again, but this time he is not concerned about changing. The bathroom door swings open as Valentin moves towards Nathan and shows him the silver staff he is holding. “Knock it off Nathan. I will stab you again with this. *sees how turned on he is* What are you doing Roman? If you keep doing that, he will tear you to pieces.” Roman stops what he is doing and moves away from Nathan. The horny musclebeast is in no mood to stop feeling that way and attempts to finish what was started on his cock. The beast is trying to come out again as a few popping sounds are heard coming from Nathan’s back as he grows furry again. Valentin wastes no time and stabs him with his staff which causes the wolfman to scream in agony as he falls to the ground with the Bulgarian sitting on top of him. His cock blasts a massive volcano of thick cum all over the bathroom as some of it hits Roman in the face. He quickly rubs it off and smears it onto the floor. “Shit…..shit…..shit…..damnit. Am I going to be okay? His cum is hitting me in the face.” Valentin turns to look and yells, “Get out of the way Roman. Run into the stalls and close the door.” As he does so, he can hear Nathan yelling and agonizing as his cock continues to blast cum into the air. After a few minutes, he finally stops moving and goes unconscious. He hears the staff hit the floor and it is thrown under a neighboring stall. Valentin gets up and runs over to where Roman is and knocks on the door. The Italian opens it as the Bulgarian throws a few paper towels into Roman and tells him to clean it off quickly. There are now two other guys in the bathroom wearing large bath towels around their waists. They both have similar features to Valentin. They help Roman up from the floor and escort him out and into the warehouse. They introduce themselves after helping Roman out of his cum soaked and torn shirt. “My name is Petr Brugunov and this is my assistant Georgi. We both work at Full Moon Pharmaceuticals in the research and development department.” Petr pauses for a few moments and motions for Georgi to look Roman over. “Let him check to see if you need any medical attention while I have a little chat with Valentin.” They both leave the bathroom to talk privately. “So, how did you turn me back into my human self, Валентин?” Valentin pauses for a few moments before he starts talking to Petr. “If I tell you Петр, then I will have to kill you instead of helping you.” He winks at Petr, who winks back. Both Roman and Georgi walk out of the bathroom together. The Bulgarian walks over to his master and puts his arm around his huge hairy muscular waist. The other man that was involved in the carnage is sitting down in the office with his hands in his lap. He is also wearing a towel, but it fails to cover up his cock and ballsack as the whole package peeks out. Petr and Georgi walk over to the ripped-up garage door and look it over. Roman and Valentin go in to talk to the other man. The Bulgarian goes into interrogation mode. “Now that you are a little more coherent, I need you to tell me how you ended up here and who you are.” The man isn’t as broad as the others, but his muscularity is still quite impressive. He looks as if he just finished a cutting cycle as his entire body from head to toe is vascular. His arms look a bit overgrown for his frame, at least according to Roman as he can’t take his eyes off of them. The man notices and slowly flexes them before he answers Valentin’s question. “Well…..to tell you the truth, I don’t remember. I signed up for a special lab study at Full Moon Pharmaceuticals, and they injected me with a few different serums. There were two other men that were having the same procedure done on them. After about ten minutes, I could feel something happening to me. It was as if I was being put to sleep because I could feel myself starting to drift away. The other men were freaking out like crazy. I think I even saw one of them die. It was bizarre. I remember feeling my body go numb and my skin burning. Ohh and my name is Gilbert Hadwin.” Valentin turns to look at Roman. “Does this story sound a little familiar? When we spoke on the phone, you told me that Nathan went through a similar procedure. I believe that this was done by Domino’s people.” While they are talking, he can hear a helicopter in the background. Out of the corner of his eye, the Bulgarian notices Georgi escorting Nathan past the door opening to the office. He jumps up from his chair and rushes over to look and sees that Petr, Georgi, and Nathan are taking their towels off and jump through the ravaged garage door before hopping onto a helicopter that is waiting for them. It quickly takes off once they are all on it. “We have to go now Roman. Your husband has been taken from us again. We need to get moving if we are going to find him again. Gilbert you will have to come with us.” After a few moments, Valentin and Roman help the man up and they quickly leave the office. The Bulgarian tells the Italian to take the man to the van while he goes to retrieve his staff. He meets up with them a minute later inside the van. Gilbert is sitting in the back of the vehicle and is looking around at all of the equipment that is set up and is confused by what he is seeing. “I feel like I have entered an alternate universe. Who are all of you?” Valentin and Roman look over at each other before turning to look back at him. The Bulgarian then says, “Actually this is the world we all live in. You are just becoming aware of it through a different lens. Some of us will live and some will die. Maybe you will be one of the lucky ones.” The man looks at them both and shrugs his shoulders as he shuts the van door. They drive off down several streets following the path of the helicopter until it lands on top of a darkly lit skyscraper. The building is not marked with any kind of signage whatsoever. They pull in and Valentin and Roman jump out. The Bulgarian is holding his staff as he slides the van door open and tells Gilbert to stay put because this might be too dangerous for him. He agrees as they slide the door closed. Both men stare at each other one more time before saying a few more words to each other. “Val, what do they want with my husband? There has to be something you are not telling me.” Valentin looks at him and shakes his head a few times. “You will find out soon enough Roman. I feel like this is about to come to a head.” They both quickly find the front entrance and rush inside not knowing what they will find next. End of Part 3
  2. The Uncontainable Hulk (Part 1)

    Finally getting to post my first real written story for the idea I brought up before. It's not so much a part one but rather a clip I'm ready to share now. It's about seventeen paragraphs long and features macro, hyper, muscle growth, which I'll hopefully be continuing into a limitless growth scenario! Enjoy reading. The Uncontainable Hulk A week of research had already passed for Bruce Banner. His time spent at a remote military base in Arizona had led to his recent discovery of reprogramming his hulk-like transformation, an experiment that Bruce had just undergone yesterday. Results seemed promising and so far, nothing seemed to push him to his destructive alter ego. Even when he was provoked, Banner remained level headed and completely unchanged. What Bruce did not expect was that the Hulk lurked in other places. Sitting in front of his computer, Bruce read through the notes and observations left behind by scientists who assisted in the test. The room was empty and quiet with only a subtle hum coming from the fluorescent lights above him. Switching the monitor off, Banner leaned back in his office chair, pondering at the outcome he was left with. Is the Hulk really gone? Am I cured of my condition? Will this be good? Questions kept forming in his mind. Although destructive, the Hulk had power that Bruce could never in his life ever experience ever again. It should be good that no longer he would fear the consequences of feeling such a natural and simplistic emotion yet Banner sat in his chair, unsatisfied by it all. He lived with his situation for so long that he found ways to keep the beast locked away. Going Hulk had benefits of its own and strength so desirable... His loins stirred. His time spent secluded and boxed in left him bored and tired. It had been so long since he had time for himself. Bruce leaned over to his side to look behind his office chair, staring briefly at the surveillance camera before switching the monitor on and undoing his belt. His time now was of little importance and with his chair blocking most of the camera feed, Banner got right to unzipping his pants. His hand gently caressed the brief clad bulge in front of him. His mind conjured images of his body undergoing transformation. His longing of strength and power had always stuck to him on such a primal desire, something he continuously imagines when he's alone. A lengthy mound soon emerged as the blood ran through him. Adjusting accordingly, his cock was finally out from his underwear, the welcoming cool air touching his shaft. He worked the length in his palm, still picturing the Hulk, still picturing the brawn, the size, the strength and dominance... Nearing his peak, Bruce's body suddenly stiffened with his arms jolting back and legs stretching from underneath his desk. He felt for a moment, a familiar wave of energy coursing across his torso and appendages. Banner could feel his buttoned up shirt growing tighter, his pants hugging across his legs, his feet and hands swelling slowly. He recognized this sensation and knew what was happening. The purple shirt he wore already had seams bursting in multiple spots across his growing arms. The mass of his biceps peaked through the sleeves first with his shoulders pulling apart the seams of his shirt. Buttons snapped off the tight fabric across his torso and landed on the ravaged fabric of his trousers. Rips formed across his back, thighs and forearms as the transformation kept a slow and steady pace. Banner watched in horror to see his body muscle more and more but what drew his attention was the dying erection right in front of him. He noticed his cock never discharged but instead, bloated, fattened and extended at a mesmerizing rate. The meaty member just kept growing up and up, as the veins vanished underneath the foreskin and soon after reaching it's full foot long length, fell flaccid on his keyboard with a noticeable thud. The growth had finally subsided. Bruce was left astonished and stunned. His transformation was different this time. Sitting himself at 6'6", the mass of his body was half that of the Hulk's original size. The definite green skin tone was replaced with a warmer shade of green that affected every inch of his muscled body. At this point, his clothes barely covered him. Rags were strewn across various parts of his upper body with his pants forming into ripped shorts which spilled out his massive manhood. The white briefs he wore were still intact but barely held the soccer balls that were his genitals. Bruce lifted himself from his cramped chair, standing barefoot as his cock slithered off the keyboard and slapped against his knees. The weight of his member was truly something to experience but Bruce couldn't help but notice his mental state. He was still sane, stable and not enraged in any capacity. He had full control over all his functions. Relieved and excited, Banner reveled in his new form, admiring the bodybuilder physique he now had. His large hands grabbed at whatever scraps were left behind of his work shirt as he pressed his fingers in between the chiseled crevices of his cut muscular body. Lifting his left arm, he flexed his bicep, watching the mass rise up with a thick vein peaking to the top. Bruce was never able to truly adore his hulkish qualities. His memories of the Hulk were always muddled, shrouded in a rage filled episode that left him with nothing but regret. His cock gave a throb, it's bulk calling to him from below. It's shape was so enticing, fat and folded, as if it was ready to start stretching to newer proportions. Although long, its form still remained short and stubby, the head of which largely taking up a third of its size. Bruce's hand slowly glided to the hairy base. His index finger pressed at the top of the shaft before his hand rested on the rest of his girth. Coincidentally, despite its new size, the cock was perfectly in proportion to his enlarged hands. His palm gently ran down the length and shivers of pure ecstasy rattled Bruce like he never felt before. The sensation felt amplified, the pleasure of which was almost intoxicating. He stroked his cock more and more and found himself shackled to the bliss his flesh delivered. The thick skin was dragged by his bulgy fingers as the meaty shape of his dick extended in sync with his masturbation, making each stroke longer than the last. Finger-thick veins reappeared across his hardening cock as its size gained an additional six inches. The climax was fast approaching. Banner's body stiffened in response as his legs locked straight up and his back bent backwards, leaving his junk elevated and ready to erupt. Just like before, his cock did not drain. The energized sensation coursed through him a second time and bulk was steadily packing onto his figure. Banner gave a guttural groan as his hairy chest ballooned into a shelf of solid muscle. Even his deep green nipples had their share of growth, thickening at the bottom of each slab. His broad shoulders pushed out in a horizontal fashion, crevices outlining the brawn, pumpkin-like both in appearance and size. Traps rose out afterwards, crawling closer to his ears. His jaw became square with a widening chin that wholly aligned with his massive vascular bull neck. His meaty brows protruded above his green eyes as his whole face was molded manlier and stronger, resembling less of Bruce and more of the Hulk. He grunted, appearing primal and powerful. He could feel his arms exploding in size. Thick cables of muscle amassing on his already mighty limbs, bulging and flexing uncontrollably into a width that compared to that of his washboard abdomen. His chiseled six pack swelled into a brick wall of eight lumpy abs. Below the waist, his calves and thighs expanded to newfound thickness. The newly made shorts soon split from the approaching beef into even small garments, hugging his waist and covering only a third of his enormous square glutes. The back pockets peaks out from the pants over the steel-hard boulder cheeks, both tight and tugging at the fabric that was wedged in between. And of course his cock, a sight to behold. Eighteen inches of thick, hulk meat began to swell monstrously. Each throb after the other juiced his shaft more and more as the member stretched and softened, fatter and thicker. Both testes pulled his briefs down further and further until the underwear snapped from the front. Passing two feet, his cock and the rest of his skin darkened into a noticeable shade of deep green. His body shot upwards, growing past the seven foot mark and stopping short of eight feet tall. The back of Hulk's neck now rested against the ceiling while his three foot manhood dropped to his ankles. Bruce had finally transformed into the Hulk. Hulk breathed heavily, his chest rising up and down as his head still spun from the rush of his transformation. He was still in control but just barely. Banner finally began understanding his situation. His rage was merely usurped by his lust, persuading him to change with a bounty in the form of sexual gratification. Every ejaculation would go to fueling the Hulk's power, his libido piling on more and more until it ultimately resets, like the turning of an hourglass. Bruce might have retained his free will but the pleasure was hard to fight off. The sensation from his loins only magnified more after each growth spurt. The cycle would remain endless. His sexuality alone was dictated by his size, his mass and his manhood. Growing made him aroused, which made him grow, which aroused him again. Already the very feeling of his legs, knees and massive feet being enveloped by his scorching hot sack turned the Hulk on even more. In his mind, he didn't just want more, he NEEDED more. Cramped inside the laboratory, Hulk hurried to exit through the door. His muscled legs constantly kept hitting against his monster junk as he tried to walk. Cock and balls bounced up and down in front of him with their added weight enticing Hulk more and more with each step. Knowing full well that he wouldn't fit, Hulk tackled at the metal door in a fit of lusty impatience, bursting through with ease as the frame and chunks of wall toppled over. Dust poured behind him as he was greeted by rows of men, clad in armor with automatic weaponry all pointed towards the green monster. The camera had already alerted the facility of his transformation. Every gun fired directly at Hulk, the bullets casually dropping off his rippling body and rigid cock as they clattered against the concrete floor. Although impenetrable, the rounds directed at Hulk left him enduring the sharp pain from the chattering rifles. Hulk reacted, turning away from the gunfire as to shield himself from the armed soldiers. If like anything in the past, it would be expected that the Hulk would rampage, enraged by the pitiful attack of the military and the certain destruction of the entire facility. Instead, Hulk refrained himself from taking action while his massive ass and mountainous back were absorbing all the blows. Hulk only stared at the giant hole he left from the laboratory, exciting him at the casual display of left over destruction. He left that room in a fit of hot lust and that same sensation was still lingering inside, not once dying down. His desire could never be extinguished. Once his arousal started, it could only grow from that point on until he achieved his climax. Hulk could feel his cock perking up. One hand grabbed firmly at the shaft while his other hand caressed the head. The pain he felt behind him could not compare to the pleasure he was feeling. Every inch of his palm fondled his nerves as he dragged his soft green beast higher and higher into an impressive erection. His low, breathy moans picked up volume as he worked himself further. Soon, even the soldiers could hear his bliss-filled wails over their deafening weaponry. Hulk's ass was seen, clenching and unclenching as his waist involuntarily swung back and forth, driving the veiny walls of his dick into the caress of his burly hands. Sweat began to crawl down the vast expanse of his back as well as the bulging mess of muscles that formed from his torso. Pecs and abs squeezed together tightly with his thick, tree-like arms pressing his muscles inwards as he fondled his length. The troops momentarily ceased their firing, standing bewildered at what they were witnessing. The green mass of the Hulk's body swelled at a constant rate, cramming him more into the shrinking expanse of the narrow hallway. Hulk turned himself around, panting in large heaping breaths as his whole body shook and throbbed. His stance fell to a kneel as his back pressed more into the ceiling above. His bowing posture showcased the rippling display of shoulders, traps, chest and back forming a wall of ever-growing beef. His broadening arms reached the walls at his sides while his juicy, hairy pecs bloated towards the leviathan cock, the cleavage hugging against the surface of his dick. The member started to rapidly bloat, fattening up and growing soft, expanding at an alarming rate towards the troops. One by one, each soldier began to flee at the enlarging flesh which threatened to engulf them in hot green cock. Hulk's already masculine face grew manlier in appearance. The squarish jaw and chin he possessed grew fuller and more stubbly while his protruding brow had shelved itself out more. Moans of ecstasy escaped from the vein-riddled expanse of his neck as his growing cock was fondled by the hairy surface of his beefy chest muscles. He could feel his bulbous ass entering the previous room he once dwelled. In just a short amount of time, Hulk had already filled part of the hallway, snugged firmly by the ceiling and walls. The remainder of the troops kept themselves at a safe distance, gawking in astonishment at the girth that laid out in front of them. The cock, soft once more, had grown to eight feet long, five feet wide, resting on the massive sack that ran from Hulk's hairy crotch. Behind the mass, Hulk was wedged in at sixteen feet, hunched over and on both knees with his face and breast laying on top of his supple endowment. It only took mere seconds before Hulk's libido was fanned yet again. Everything around him catered to his sexual cravings from the cold hard walls touching his firm muscled body to the dense musky scent that invaded Hulk's nostrils coming from the godcock he laid on top of. The odor was almost too good for him. Hulk breathed in deeply, panting as his open mouth lapped at the skin of his cock. One brush of his tongue was enough to overload his senses. The taste, the touch, the smell, one sensation piled on top of the other. He couldn't get enough. He swiped his tongue over and over, rolling his meaty chest up and down the shaft. His lower body attempted to hump the air making the columns of hard mountainous muscle shift in a display of virile captivation. Cracks formed around him as the slightest movement was capable of fracturing the walls and ceiling. The last of the men fled as the junk resumed its extension into a massive erection. Hulk's drive was almost subhuman. He drooled and slobbered, writhing completely stationary to work his cock harder. The tip had finally extended and risen enough to press against the ceiling. His enormous arms destructively tried to squeeze through, desperate to reach in front and seize his titan cock. Hulk was a beast in heat, his actions became more unruly with every passing second. Grunts and brutish groans echoed across the compound as the halls were thick with the pungent scent and heat emanating from the horny phenomenon. Every surface near Hulk trickled with droplets of condensation as well as web-like fractures that formed around the green monster. Hulk clenched his teeth, feeling the buildup rising inside his gargantuan member. Spit and sweat worked to lubricate his cock as both hands and pecs were drenched in his juices. The slick fondling of his veiny shaft sent waves of orgasmic ecstasy through the titan. Hulk roared, as loud as he could, shaking the facility with his low, beastly howls to yet another explosive climax. The walls barely held him inside before but now, had disintegrated by the slightest growth of his freakish body. Hulk stood in response to the uncontrollable muscle piling on to each of his limbs, crashing his entire upper body through the roof, colliding with concrete that barely stood against the rising force of his stance. Erupting out into the outdoors, another erotic roar signaled the rest of the compound to his presence. A display of continuous swelling green muscle emerging from the top of the building was in full view for any spectators outside. Hulk's chest was the most noticeable in growth as it rippled outwards, lower, higher, until each hairy, juicy pec overshadowed a fourth of his torso and collided against his burly jawline. From there, his shoulders continued their routine in broadening outwards, away from his thorax as to make Hulk appear wider, leaving room for his arms to swell next. His biceps received the most attention from the miraculous gains. Each bulbous round cutlet of muscle crashed against the pillowy bulk of his chest, jutting each body-wide arm out enough to triple the span of his proportions. Hulk couldn't help but smile as his eyes continuously wandered to every solid limb getting more and more monstrous. Although the fact that he couldn't see past his chest excited him, he wish he could view the size piling onto his cock. Hulk's bottom half was mostly concealed by the remains of the compound with dust and rubble strewn across his growing features. The hot green shaft ate up what room was left inside the hall, pressing firmly against the floor, walls and eventually the ceiling, its flaccid bulk causing even more structural damage, testing the limits of the enclosure. The constriction was already arousing Hulk more and the feeling only tightened as his mammoth sac and ripped legs started to push out with more muscle. A flat wall of veiny cock flesh started to emerge through the crumbling roof in front of Hulk. Its soft bulk atop his massive balls was enough to reach up to his hairy waist. Each growth seemed to make the member grow proportionally larger every time, now reaching a size that compared to the entirety of his lower body. From around the compound, a growing throng of people formed, evacuating the building to see the herculean monster. Hulk was left completely oblivious to the crowd, his one-track mind only fixated on sex and size. The outdoors was already an improvement from being inside the cramped cold space of his lab. So much of his green hairy exterior met with sunlight and arid heat, leaving Hulk relaxed and stimulated. Such stimulation however paled in comparison to the embrace the building had over Hulk's room-filling prick. As with each surge of size, Hulk's cock grew more receptive, more aroused, making every foot of his shaft overstimulate from any touch. Blood was quick to rush through his loins, the cramped interior only growing tighter as his cock hardened, stimulating him more, making him more erect, as the cycle continued. All he could do was feel the building work his shaft steadily, until he eventually heard more of the rooftop crumbling below, and finally his eyes could see the deep green head peaking past his monstrous chest.
  3. Mikey The Human Muscle Morph

    New story I've been writing and now posting on my Muscle Addicts Inc blog. It tells the tale of Mikey Maguire, who discovers he has a superpower which enables him to transform his regular sized body into a 300 lbs monstrous mass of shredded muscle, worthy of a top five Mr Olympia bodybuilder, whenever he likes! MIKEY THE HUMAN MUSCLE MORPH PART I Chapter One Mikey Maguire was twelve years old when his parents sat him down to explain how superpowers work. He listened intently with a sense of a excitement as his mother informed him that, like everyone in the Maguire family before him, and dozens of other people around the world, sometime around his eighteenth birthday he would develop a superpower that would be completely unique to him. Of course, like the rest of the world, Mikey had heard of people with superpowers before. He’d grown up being both fascinated and intrigued by stories of people whose weird and wonderful powers had bought them fame, fortune, or both, while never really knowing that, one day, he would have his own superpower too. Like most of his peers who knew of their destiny to develop a unique superpower, Mikey Maguire spent most of his teenage years wondering just what that power would be. Almost on a daily bases his imagination conjured up a new potential superpower. Would it be a relatively conventional, but still brilliant, power like the ones you see in comic books and superhero films, like the ability to fly or the ownership of superhuman strength? Perhaps he would develop the ability to read people’s thoughts, to move objects with the power of his mind or the ability to see through walls? Or would it be a quirkier power, like the many he’d heard of in the years leading up to his eighteenth birthday? Something life changing and amazing like the power of Mr Gold, who can turn any object he likes into gold? Or something completely useless like the power of The Incredible Green Man, who can turn his skin a shade of green whenever he likes? Maybe it would be something completely bonkers, but potentially a lot of fun once he started dating, like the power of The Human Orgasm, who can make people cum with a single touch? As Mikey reached his eighteenth birthday, more and more of his friends and peers discovered and developed their superpowers. His friend Cath Corrick’s mother entered her daughter’s bedroom on the morning of her birthday and was startled to find a stray tabby cat curled up on the bed, while her daughter was nowhere to be seen. She screamed with fright when the strange cat suddenly began to grow and change shape, and morphed back into her daughter before her very eyes. Cath had the power to transform herself into a domestic cat whenever she liked. A few weeks after celebrating turning eighteen, Nick Norris, who Mikey had known since primary school, had a sudden urge to walk into a shop selling musical instruments. He’d never even had a single guitar lesson before but, picking up the nearest acoustic guitar, he surprised himself and impressed the shop owner by playing a note perfect rendition of The White Stripes’ “One Nation Army”. He then sat down in front of the shop’s only grand piano and serenaded the store with “Imagine”. Nick had the power to pick up any musical instrument and, amazingly, play it perfectly without hesitation. He was quickly given the nickname The Amazing Music Man. Unfortunately not all of Mikey’s peers were impressed with their superpowers. A few months after turning eighteen, Henry Huxter arrived at school to find an angry mob confronting him. He’d apparently started a blog the night before and had publicly expressed his negative feelings towards a select few of his classmates. Henry tried to argue that he had done no such thing. So when one of his peers showed him the blog on the Internet, he was completely shocked at what he saw. Almost everything Henry had done and thought the night before had been posted on the mysterious blog, including the negative opinions of his classmates. As he read the blog, a new entry appeared, chronicling the events that were happening at that precise moment. It seemed that whatever Henry thought, felt and did was automatically posted on the blog for all the world to see. He contacted the blog server to get the site removed, but the next day, another blog exactly like the previous one appeared out of nowhere. He is now notoriously known as The Blogger in superpower circles. Mikey spent the whole of his eighteenth birthday both nervously and excitingly looking for signs that his superpower would present itself. By midnight, nothing had happened, and Mikey went to bed disappointed and annoyed. Weeks rolled by and still, Mikey’s power had not been revealed. He was starting to wonder whether his parents were wrong about him developing a power. Maybe he was one of the unfortunate few (though some with particular powers, like The Blogger, would argue with that opinion) who didn’t have a power, despite every other member of his family owning one. Perhaps he wouldn’t discover his power for years, even decades to come. He’d heard of that happening in rare cases too. After much anguish, Mikey finally started to take his mind off of his superpower. “Your power will reveal itself when the right time is right”, Mikey’s mother had told him, as she and Mr Maguire said goodbye to their only child and set off on a week long holiday, leaving Mikey home alone. Unbeknownst to Mrs Maguire, her son would, in fact, discover his power the very next day. As soon as Mikey opened his eyes that morning, he felt very peculiar indeed. Everything felt different. His bed seemed a lot smaller for a start. Still half asleep, Mikey rubbed his sleepy eyes and crawled out of bed. His feet seemed to hit the floor with an unusual thud. As he lugged himself to his bedroom door he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was strapped to each of his body parts. Something very heavy. Additionally, everything around him felt smaller. It was only when he caught sight of himself in the full length mirror next to his bedroom door that he realised why he was feeling so strange. He let out a scared yell and stepped back. Everything was smaller because he was bigger. Much, much bigger. And those heavy objects which were strapped to each body weren’t objects at all. They were his body parts. Overnight, Mikey Maguire’s perfectly ordinary, slim built, 175 lbs body had morphed into an incredible mountain of monstrous, shredded, superhuman muscle mass, worthy of a top five Mr Olympia competitor. “FUCKING HELL!”, Mikey cried out at he stared at the mass of freak-like muscle looking back at him from the mirror. He had to be at least 300 lbs. Two massive plates of thick pec muscle hung from his chest. His shoulders were the size of giant boulders, protruding either side of his torso to an immense degree. His arms had tripled in size, along with his humongous sized legs, which were carved and etched with the craziest lines. And where once sat his completely flat, un-toned stomach, were six blocks of thick, solid muscle bursting through his skin. He had muscles he never even knew existed. Everything was huge, hard, and carved to absolute perfection. His skin was smooth and paper thin all over; seemingly struggling to contain the blocks, lumps, bumps and mounds of muscle ballooning underneath the service. Mikey had never taken any sort of interest in bodybuilders before but, staring at his own alien reflection, he couldn’t help but think that he’d never seen anything so freaky, so oddly beautifully or so utterly amazing in all of his life. He was a monster. A real life, bon-a-fide muscle freak. And, strangely, he’d never felt more sexually aroused. As he admired his brand new physique in the mirror, Mikey couldn’t stop smiling. His dick was furiously jolting in his tight, white boxer shorts, like it was desperately trying to break free of the material and unload a litre of cum. He had zero knowledge of the official bodybuilding poses but, somehow, Mikey knew exactly what to do next. He threw both of his arms up and watched his biceps explode in the mirror. Huge balls of rock hard muscle mass erupted either side of his head, which was still, perfectly regular sized. The contrast between Mikey’s normal sized eighteen year old head and the two Mr Olympia stage worthy biceps it was sandwiched between was insane. As he hit a side chest pose and watched his enormous left pec explode off his chest in the reflection of his bedroom mirror, Mikey instinctively gritted his teeth, arrogantly scrunched up his face and then growled a cocky, “YEEEAH”! He had no idea where this new-found arrogance had come from. He’d never displayed even the slightest bit of cockiness in all of his eighteen years. Nor had he ever had the desire to do so. Yet, for some reason, in his new phenomenally muscular, bull-sized body, Mikey felt the overwhelming desire to be as cocky as he possibly could. Mikey continued to hit pose after pose. He still didn’t know how he knew the poses, but every one was hit perfectly, and with the precision of a professional IFBB league bodybuilder. He tensed his gigantic quads, opened up his skin splitting lats, squeezed his croquet ball shaped biceps and crunched all six of his beautifully shaped, crazily carved, splat-yer-pants worthy abs. He huffed, puffed, grunted and groaned his way through every pose, and even released the occasional, “Fuck yeah!”, at the sight of his own flexed muscle. He gritted his teeth, grinned like a lunatic and contorted his geeky but cute face into all manner of outrageous and cocky expressions, until there was only one pose left to hit. Bringing both of his arms up so his elbows were level with his shoulders blades, he threw them both down with an almighty force into a brutal crab most muscular pose. As he watched every single ginormous sized body part erupt, tense and explode before his eyes, he released a loud groan and a tsunami of spunk exploded from his cock and filled up his boxer shorts. He’d never really understood the desire to be a bodybuilder before, but now he understood it more than anyone. When he’d come down off the high of flexing his enormous sized, uber-human muscles to the point where it had made him cum without touch, a sudden panic set in for Mikey. His body was beyond incredible. Something not quite belonging to this world. A thing of immense beauty that, somehow, he knew would be worshipped and adored by countless of people (though mostly men). But what would happen next? What about his old body? And what if, and this was the thing that was suddenly scaring Mikey the most, his extreme transformation into a mass muscle monster was permanent? Mikey knew, without a doubt, that he was experiencing his superpower at work. But exactly what that power was, was still unknown to him at that point. As he pictured his parents returning from their holiday to discover their son had morphed into the type of 300 lbs muscle freak you’d only ever see on the cover of a hardcore bodybuilding magazine in WHSmith, and panicked even more, something strange began to happen. Mikey’s shoulders began to shrink. His chest started to flatten. His biceps shrunk. Every single body part deflated right before his eyes until he was back to his normal, regular sized, non-muscular self. Mikey breathed a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t permanent after all. “Thank Goodness for that”, he thought. But then another set of emotions crept in. Disappointment, sadness, and a longing. A yearning, in fact, to have his huge biceps, peeled blocky abs, and thick, line etched glutes back (he wasn’t really sure how he suddenly knew the word “glutes”). And as that very desire set in, his body began to change again. His quads became thicker. His chest began to expand. His abs started to seep through his tummy. Everything inflated and expanded before him until he was a 300 lbs muscle monster once more. “FUCK YEAH!”, he cried in response, then belted out another hard, low down, crab most muscular. Once again, his dick released thick ropes of cum and splattered his bedroom mirror in response. “Damn!”, he thought, “I really must try and get this ‘busting my nut every time I crank out a most muscular’ thing under control”, as he wiped the spunk off his mirror and bounced his bulbous pecs in his reflection at the same time. Mikey Maguire had finally discovered his superpower. He could transform his regular sized body into a huge, hulking mass of muscle, worthy of professional bodybuilder status, whenever he liked. He wouldn’t be christened with his superpower nickname until a few years later, but that day, Mikey became The Human Muscle Morph.
  4. The Iron Bug - Part V

    Oh boy, it has been quite a while since I 've worked on this story. This update comes in two parts. This one is the plot-heavy one. Feel free to skip through at your leisure if that is not your jam. Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V -- The Well We have lingered in the chambers of sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. - T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" The clouds were painted flat and grey against the sky, leaving a muddy warmth in their wake. The pale morning light that made it through lent a calm air to the morning, the blue-hued rays filtering through the needles of trees. It was a day like any other. I waited outside Charlie’s house for him to leave for class. I had no plan. Short of makeshift handcuffs, I was out of ideas. He could probably knock me out at any time, and I had no idea how he did it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask nicely. He opened the door wearing a white wife beater that was just tight enough to show his abs through the fabric. When his verdant eyes turned to face me he looked amused. “You look different, little man,” he said. I stared at him blankly. I wasn’t sure what to do. He chuckled. “What is it you want from me anyways? You made your wish and it has nothing to do with mine.” He said. “What are you talking about?” I inquired bluntly. “I never made any wish. Frankly I have no idea what’s going on…although I’m not complaining, I guess,” I stated, rubbing my thick hands across the deep, shredded crevices of my abs. God, what was happening to me. “Sorry, that’s become a force of habit lately,” I mumbled. “You’ve never been to the well?” Charlie asked. “No. What well?” I asked impatiently. “Then what happened to you?” He seemed genuinely interested, the amusement on his face giving way to curiosity. And he clearly knew a lot more than I did. It couldn’t hurt to share. I described the metal bug, the insatiable desire to lift, the ravenous hunger, the euphoric growth, the second bite, and the dream. Well, the relevant parts of the dream. I also left out the parts about Delilah. He gazed at me intently before breaking into a smile. Then he took a deep breath. “Well, so much for class today. We’re going on a field trip.” Charlie said, dropping his backpack inside the door and then shutting it for good. He stretched and I could see the soft shadows of his triceps that I had felt in my dream. I was bewildered. Apparently my ignorance was enough to warrant his help. “Get ready for a bit of a hike. It’s not too far, but more than a quick walk.” After that he started ahead off without me, and I jogged to catch up. I followed him quietly as he led me through the neighborhood to a trail into the forest. It was a path I had run a few times before. Tall evergreens surrounded us, soft and inviting in the pale morning light. I spoke up once and he looked at me stolidly, telling me to “Just wait until we get there.” The rest of our trek was conducted in the relative silence of the forest. Only the frogs made sounds as they fell asleep for the day. I tried to focus on our surroundings instead of gaping awkwardly at his chiseled backside. I worried he would catch me staring and knock me out. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Squirrels ran through the leaf litter and up the trees, eying us cautiously as we made our way up the path. After about forty minutes we came to a unique collection of ovoid rocks that were stacked against one another, and he led us off the path to wade through the remnants of a trail overrun with forest scrub. I was forced to watch him as he guided us through, and I found that the longer I focused on him the less I was able to focus on anything else. There was a certain magnetism about the way he moved, confident and alluring. My eyes ate up his every motion hungrily. Everything about him was perfect. His back sculpted like the smoothest stone, his walnut colored hair reflecting beautifully in the sunlight, the beefy heads of his calves separating every time he took a stop, the sweat rolling off his caramel tanned skin, his clothes hugging his tight body with every motion. Amongst all the beauty of the forest, including my own, he outshined us all, a guiding light in the darkness. His radiance enraptured me, made me feel whole. A branch swept across my face, forcing my attention away from Charlie. The trance was lifted, and the rest of the world came rushing back into view. I felt on my face where I had been struck but could not find a cut or any pain. Another part of the transformation, I guessed. I wondered silently if anything could hurt me. When I looked back up at Charlie he seemed like an ordinary person again. Still just as attractive, but I was no longer transfixed by him. I found that if I stared for too long, however, I started to lose clarity again. It was best to focus elsewhere and follow the sound of him moving through the scrub. The last of the wildflowers were wilting in the mild summer heat. Another half an hour of trekking found us in a small clearing that was mostly shaded save for a few sharp slivers of sunlight that pierced through. Charlie stopped and took a long, deep breath. Leaf litter from the surrounding trees covered the ground, but few plants grew here. The ones that did had long, thin leaves almost like needles and vibrant red flowers that let their stamens out towards the ground. In the center of the clearing stood a stone structure resembling a well. The clean cut stones were a deep, mottled grey that I did not recognize. The well overflowed with water, and it spilled into a shallow pool of the same stone that encircled the structure. The water that flowed out seemed unnaturally dark, like it refused to let any light leave its shallow prison. A wooden covering was held by thin posts ornately carved with various animal and plant designs. It looked like it had been built long after the primary structure by someone other than the original architect. A small wooden bucket hung from the roof as well, although it did not seem to serve much purpose. “Welcome to the wishing well,” Charlie said with false ceremony. “I…don’t get it, honestly. Why are we here?” I said, perplexed. “Just go up to it. You’ll have to take your shoes off and put your feet into the water to look inside. Then you’ll see.” I agreed reluctantly. The whole structure, although simple enough, gave me an ominous feeling. Light and sound seemed to move oddly through the clearing because of it, sometimes enhanced and sometimes subdued but never what was expected. The well itself had a certain Lovecraftian alienness about it, as though whoever built it had tried to create something familiar but had failed in the details and instead made something entirely foreign. I steeled myself for whatever fate awaited me, taking my shoes off before the water. What the hell, I thought, rubbing my cheek where the branch had hit me. I am practically invincible now, anyways. The inky water was smooth and cool on my feet. The flow from the well gave me the impression of wading through the tide rather than standing in a pool, and I noticed that the water drained into holes along the pool’s stone edges. The closer I came to the well the more everything around it seemed to go dark in my vision. Soon the only thing I could see was the stone and the water, and my feet moving through it. The rest of the world had faded into a giant expanse, endless, vast, and humming with a vibrancy of life despite its emptiness. I rested my hands on the well, feeling the cool rush of dark water flow over them, and looked inside. Images swirled and began to take shape and form against the darkness. Soon I was a part of them, as though I was in a dream. I could not tell at first if the visions I saw were scenes from the future or memories. At times they felt like both. Each one was a snapshot from my life, not always in order but generally progressing forward. They came slowly at first, then faster and faster until they began to blur together. Important moments and small moments rubbed up against one another in a ceaseless barrage: graduation from university, a gentle kiss from a stranger, my election to head of an engineering firm, the desert view from atop a tall rock, my sister’s funeral. In every image I was the same age, and as time sped past I was oblivious to its effects. I traveled the world and experienced more than most do in a lifetime, summiting mountains and skyscrapers, exploring though canyons and across highways until I felt there was no more to see. I met others, many of them, from all walks of life. I talked with them, laughed with them, loved them, fucked them. I grew from each of them, and I cherished every one of them. In the midst of my travels, in a dark city alley lined with high adobe walls, I found a mirror. The humid air and sandy floor of the alley faded as I gazed into it. The reflection was my own, but I had grown to titanic proportions. At least twice my current size, and all muscle. The shelf of my pecs eclipsed the sun for those who stood under me, and the strength a single arm was enough to topple buildings. I was invincible, the epitome of eroticism and power. In the mirror’s visions, I filled my time with prodigious displays of my boundless strength, lifting ships with the flick of my wrist, stopping bullets and tanks that would stand in my way, eating and drinking and fucking whomever I pleased. I was indomitable in the world of men, a god for others to worship. I looked away from the mirror and continued on my own path. But the visions from the mirror stuck with me, haunting me. Time continued its march and I moved with it effortlessly, but the others did not. I watched my friends and loved ones die, and new ones sprang up to take their place. The stars continued to turn overhead, but I stopped counting the revolutions of the earth and the numbers of days that passed. Time was just an excuse for everything not to happen all at once. I watched the world change as my body refused to age. The seas rose and dried up, technologies advanced beyond what I thought possible, the natural world around us dwindled and was restructured in our image, countries rose and fell in what felt like minutes, and soon we left the earth behind. Eventually I jumped across stars with the rest of our species through the grandness of the cosmos, watching patiently what became of us as we traipsed from galaxy to galaxy. And just when I felt myself start to slip into a boundless infinity a hand pulled me out from the well. I inhaled sharply, as though I had just been rescued from the bottom of a pool. “What did you see?” he asked calmly. “I was immortal. I saw everything.” Charlie regarded me cautiously. “That’s a new one. Must have been why you were out for so long. “Look, just be careful. The well shows you the wish you want, but it doesn’t always grant it. Mostly it works out, but sometimes it fails and things get tricky. That’s probably where your bugs came from, too. Whoever made that wish may not have even been bitten.” I paused, considering what monstrous incarnation of eternity would spring forth from the well to grant my own wish. Finally I regained the courage to speak. “What did you wish for?” I asked. “I haven’t. I’m like you. The product of someone else’s wish.” I stared at him blankly. “When my mom was young she found this well by accident. Just like you and everyone who comes across it, it showed her what she wanted most, although she didn’t know it at the time. She says she saw the most beautiful woman in the world, one that no man could resist. When she asked the well to make it real, a branch grew from the water and offered her a fruit. “She got her wish. Not only was she beautiful, but men became obsessed with her. She drove them mad. And when she spoke, she could ask them to do anything she wanted.” “Like what you did with me?” I asked. He nodded. She had asked to become Helen but had become a Siren instead. And apparently it was heritable. “The way her wish was granted, she never knew if men loved her or were just lost in a trance. But she managed to fall in love with my dad, somehow, and they lived together long enough to have me. “Then one day while he was working on his car he cut his arm pretty deep, and when he looked at her she was a stranger. It took him a long time just to remember who she was, and after he couldn’t even look at her. They split after that. That’s the short version anyhow.” “What happened to her?” I asked. “She still lives here with me. She rarely goes out now. Too many eyes watching. Now she only talks with the others who have been to the well. Most of them online. They tend to scatter.” “What about you, then? Have you ever looked in the water?” “No, I haven’t. Too risky. I don’t have it even a quarter as bad as she does,” he said, gesturing down to his body, “And you can barely even look at me for more than five minutes.” I blushed. I wasn’t sure if he had noticed. “I have my whole life to think about what my wish will be. There’s no rush.” “So I could wish for everything to go back to normal?” “I don’t know. Whoever or whatever built this well doesn’t seem to need it anymore, so we can’t ask questions. We only know what we know from the wishes we’ve made. “Look, I only brought you here so you could understand what’s happening to you. It probably would have drawn you here anyways, even if I hadn’t shown you. That’s what happened to me, sort of like your dream. I can’t stop you from making your wish, but you should know it doesn’t always go according to plan.” I thought to argue, but it was useless. He had made up his mind. And so we left the clearing and headed home in silence once more. The siren’s son led me from the water, safe to dry land. -- The night was dark from thick cloud cover and an absent moon. I had spent all day packing, throwing away most of my clothes that wouldn’t fit anymore. I was already a day and a half late, and I tried to rush but I found it hard to focus. My mind was preoccupied with the well. My head buzzed with the wish that I would make, what, if anything, I would tell Delilah, and the behemoth that had stared back at me in the mirror. If I wanted to, I could ask for it. But that was someone else’s wish, I had to remind myself. Although, even still… I loved the way the downcast lighting reflected off of my body, the way every single crevice formed by my impressive musculature made a deep shadow. I thought about how I could make men cum just by letting them worship me, how even my fingers had the strength to bend metal with ease, and how the hard flesh under my skin was now akin to the metal that I lifted. Pre leaked ceaselessly from my hard cock as I subtly flexed and explored what my body had become. -- My flashlight barely lit the forest path as I made my way out to the well. I got lost a few times, having to turn back before I found the rock formation I was looking for. I stumbled my way through the trail, freshly beaten by our steps from this morning, and found my way to the clearing. The red flowers glowed with a soft phosphorescence in the darkness of the night. Only a few scarce stars were visible overhead. I took a deep breath, removed my shoes and placed my feet into the water. The temperature had not changed, and against the cool night air it was warm on my feet. The infinite expanse opened up to me again, my surroundings even darker than the night I came from. I saw the same visions pass before my eyes, including the mirror. And when it was done I stood silently for a few moments, the weight of eternity on my shoulders. Then I made my wish.
  5. The Iron Bug - Part IV

    Oh boy, it has been quite a while since I 've worked on this story. This update comes in two parts. This one is the sexy one. A short summary of previous parts will be posted below. Part I Part II Part III Part VI -- Metamorphosis As soon as I closed my eyes I found myself drifting in a vast darkness. Everything was black and empty except for a dull, growing warmth inside me, like I was on the cusp of a fever. Time was hard to gauge here. I passed what could have been minutes or hours through the emptiness before the pulse in my veins began to rise. Slowly at first, but then stronger and stronger until it was near bounding. At the same time my muscles swelled and tightened to their own rhythm, every fiber burgeoning with more power from each flexion. The pleasure of each muscle filling out to its rightful proportion was exhilarating, almost orgasmic. Pre leaked out of me in streams and floated aside me through the abyss. I was lost in a tranquil euphoria, becoming something greater. More immeasurable time passed before the transformation slowed to a halt, and I realized that I was still dreaming. The darkness faded into a blue sky, my body falling gently into a field of tall grass. I opened my eyes slowly. The sun shone radiantly, casting its bright light over my body and a few crimson flowers that each rose like its own little sun from between the long blades. The warmth of the grass pressed against my now cool skin, the bristles soft against my hard flesh. I laid there calmly, basking in the afterglow of my metamorphosis. When I lifted my head and sat up, Charlie stared down at me. His expression was almost mischievous, like a little kid caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t. His feet dragged through the tall blades as he stepped towards me, pushing me back down with his foot as his body towered over mine. Even when he lifted his foot his confident gaze was enough to hold me in place. Something about him was spellbinding, commanding. My titanic strength was useless before it. He kneeled down on top of me and I felt the softness of the grass on my back mirror the smoothness of his skin on mine. Every muscle on his body was solid, smooth, and flawlessly proportioned. Running my hands across his triceps I felt each curvature as they flexed with the simplest motion. His eyes shone marvelously and effortlessly. Our lips touched. The physical separation between us faded as we continued to explore each other. I guided my hands along his burly arms while our lips played with each other’s, and then he ran his nose thorough the deep crevice of my solid abs, his fingers gently toying with my erect nipples until he brought his tongue back up to meet them. In an instant I rolled us over and pressed him down, forcing my tongue into his mouth. I was stronger, and it thrilled me. I pinned his arms on the ground and held his legs down with my massive quads, rubbing my dick slowly on top of his. Our abs slid across each other as my dick throbbed in anticipation of my load. Suddenly his lips left mine and he gazed into my eyes with a sort of smug expression. He guided me gently with his hands, and I could not help but yield to his touch. He flipped us back over. He stared at me again with that overwhelming confidence, and then started to kiss his way down to my cock. I leaned my back onto the stone well that had appeared behind us, as objects sometimes do in a dream. Just as he started to reach past my apollo’s belt, I let out a deep groan… -- I awoke to rain pounding on the roof. It was heavy and full and warm with summer. I stared at the fine grains of the wood of the ceiling for a long, hard minute before I was convinced that I wasn’t dreaming anymore. My heavy breathing and the drops on the windowpanes were the only sounds that filled the room. The paltry, muggy light of dusk gave me just enough light to see the vague outlines of the walls. Apparently I had slept for a long time. The blankets had tangled from my tossing and turning, and I carefully unraveled my cocoon of sheets to find freedom. A sharp inhale filled my lungs, my chest expanding outward proudly to let the air rush in. Even without seeing it, I felt thicker, stronger, more powerful. My muscles moved like steel under my skin. When I flexed them I felt as though I had the strength to lift buildings and move mountains. The sheets tore as I gripped them in anticipation. Fuck. I flipped the light switch on to guide my way to the bathroom, swelling with the suspense of my image in the mirror. To my horror, I found my body hadn’t changed at all. My heart fell out of my chest. All of my work had been for nothing. My cock head begged to differ, however, flaring larger than any I had ever seen and standing atop a dick that was one and a half times its original size. I had gone from just above average to well endowed, with thickness to match. When I touched it lightning ran through my body. But I held on, stroking gently. Watching myself jack off in the mirror was still something to behold. I lifted my 18 inch arms and watched each belly stand out in relief, chiseled, rock solid, perfection. My abs crunched down and formed a cobblestone eight pack. Fuck, I was starting to get weak in the knees. I grabbed onto the shower certain rod for support. Instead the metal bent in my hand, removing the rod from its holds. I fell on my butt and the rod clanged on the floor. Without getting up, I picked up the warped metal and gave it a quick bend with just my right hand. My left stayed dedicated to stroking off as I twisted the metal into whatever shape I pleased, watching the muscles on my forearms danced as I contorted it like it was nothing more than a piece of paper. It was exhilarating, knowing the strength I had in just my fingers. My cum reached the ceiling from the floor as I came. Good thing I was just tall enough to reach up there now. I kept playing with the rod as my cock finished its final spurts. A note for the iron bug manual: a full bite grants you Priapus’ cock and Hercules’ strength. Good to know. And then I had an idea. -- Two hours later I found myself in a big city, noticing the streetlights' reflection off of my old beat up truck and a few scattered puddles on the ground. The apartment building I was looking for seemed to rise up stoically out of the cement, featureless and foreboding for its onlookers. I felt the cool, fresh night air run across my hard flesh as I walked inside. The lights in the lobby flickered fluorescent and bright, in stark contrast to the melancholy world I had just left. A shell of safety and warmth. I took the elevator to the third floor and walked the long, sparsely decorated hallway down to room 304. When he opened the door he smiled at me. I’m sure he was surprised at what he found, since I had used pictures from two transformation cycles ago to find him. “Come on in,” he said, his deep voice complementing the hypermasculine stature that stood proudly before me. Head shaved, white skin, shirt that looked tailored to show off the size of his chest and the slimness of his waist. I guessed he was between 32 and 35, his face showing the subtle signs of aging that were combated by a life dedicated to lifting and fitness. He turned around and left the door open. I liked the way he walked. It was a mixture of that arrogant jock sort of saunter and the stilted, muscle-bound waddle of bodybuilders. His confidence was exuberant. That was going to be fun to break. He was just finishing dinner. In a large red cast iron pan, some inedible-looking green paste was still frying. He offered some to me. I looked at him and gave him a sly smile. “I don’t really watch what I eat,” I said, my expression falling back to the cold, elusive demeanor that I had adopted since the metamorphosis. He started to coach me on the impacts of diet on fitness and health and my attention drifted. I noticed his chest bounce every time he made a gesture. I could tell that he liked the way it stretched the fabric. Every movement was proud, calculated. I got up and moved towards him, him still going on about the lean muscle he had gained on his current diet. I took his wrist in my hand. It was solid, doubtlessly from years of lifting and perfecting his body. I wanted him to resist me, to give him a hint of how this night was going to go, but his hand moved with mine. I lifted my shirt and placed his rough fingers along my abs. “Does it feel like I need to go on a diet?” I said. He whistled, and a horny grin followed. “Okay, fair point,” he said. “Let’s head to the bedroom,” I said. He didn’t hesitate any further. “Wait, I need to use the bathroom first,” I lied. “Sure. It’s just around the corner there,” he said, pointing behind me. I watched him practically skip his way down the hall. He had a nice ass, perky and firm. Hi torso twisted to get through the doorframe. Meanwhile I took a quick detour to the garage. I got lucky. It was full of weights. I took a few minutes making preparations for the night. When I came back I found him with his shirt off, trying to look casual but clearly giddy with anticipation. I had to admit, his body was even more impressive without clothes on. Slightly marred by age, he still had a tight six pack and his lats stuck out noticeably from his sides, making his waist seem more trim. I could even see some of the striations in his pecs. He could compete as a lightweight bodybuilder if he wanted to, and maybe he had. “You like?” he said, lifting up his bicep. Probably over 18 inches. Bigger than mine. I smirked at him. “Sure, it’s alright.” He must have thought I was being sarcastic. “Where do you wanna start, big guy?” I said, playing to his pride. Having waited long enough, he pressed his lips into mine, softly. His lips were practiced, and his tongue moved skillfully in and out of my mouth. He led me over to the bed, but before he could lay on top of me I flipped us around and pushed him down onto it. He scrambled to take off his shorts and underwear and I took off my shirt slowly, letting him savor every moment of the reveal. I may not have gained much in size, but there was something of an unspeakable strength and dignity to my body. Every part of me was like iron, the flesh just barely containing the strength that lay under it. I stood over him for a few silent seconds before I revealed the metal bar I had kept hidden in my waistband. Normally it would be twice as long and more suited to hold weights, but I had torn it in half for what I had in mind. His expression was a mixture of confusion and curiosity. I bent the bar into a U shape right in front of him. It was like wire. I barely even felt the resistance. Without warning him I grabbed his wrists with my hands. He was in shock for the first few moments, but then he remembered that he should struggle. It was kind of cute. He thought he was strong, that I couldn’t possible keep him in my grip. It turned out the power in my fingers was more than he had in his entire upper body. I took the bar and put it around his burly wrists, clamping the metal shut with just one hand. The horror on his face was juxtaposed with his throbbing erection. Even if he didn’t understand what was happening he sure liked it. “How do you feel?” I asked, crushing off the loose ends of the bar and tightening down the space between his hands to form makeshift handcuffs. “What are you?” he responded, exasperated. “I honestly don’t know,” I replied. “Does it really matter?” I noticed that with his hands stuck together it made his chest stick out. Even while he was indisposed, the fullness and definition in his pecs were still admirable. My dick hardened at the thought that I had incapacitated him with so little effort. I reached down for his cock that was sticking out of his boxers. He was leaky. Hell, I would be too in a situation like this. There wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t worthy of salivating over. I threw him a few poses while I had him as my captive audience. Then I drew his throbbing member from its cotton sheath and whistled at what I found. At least eight inches, hard as stone, head throbbing with anticipation. Gaining momentum, I lifted him up off the bed and hefted him over my shoulder. Then I pressed him up with one hand. The metal dragged along my back as I lifted him, and I could feel the indentations my fingers had left. He stared at me with an expression of wonder and lust. I smiled at him and brought him back down towards me, allowing our lips to meet. Then I worked my tongue down his neck, past his nipples, across his abs until they met the head of his cock. I was pleasantly surprised that he lasted for more than a few minutes with my tongue wrapped around his head. I took my time, never letting him drop an inch even as he started to leak. When I felt him getting close I held him with both hands around his waist and started rubbing his cock against my chest. The idea must have really riled him up, because he came almost immediately. I laughed as his rather prodigious volume splashed up against my chin. Some of it found its way to my lips. It was sweet. I tossed him on the bed to marinate in his own juices while I went to wash off. But before I got in his shower, I spread the substantial volume of semen that I had earned across my chest. I liked the “oiled” look, the way the lighting made every fiber in my already awesome chest stand out even more. Turning the water on, I took turns bouncing them up and down as I washed them. I went slowly, admiring the absolute control I had over every muscle in my body. Soon I was touching myself all over… My cum stained his ceiling. I was sure he wouldn’t mind. When I got back to the room he lifted his bound hands towards me and begged: “Please, officer?” I obliged, twisting the metal off of his wrists without a drop of sweat. “Can I see you again?” he asked, almost pleading. I frowned. “Sadly, I’m moving tomorrow. I was supposed to leave yesterday, actually, but some business came up. If I’m ever back in town, you’ll be the first person I call.” I left him on the bed, still soaked in his own cum, dazed from what I had done to him. I felt sated. It was time to get some answers. Part V
  6. OCavalier: Rimed Radiance in Solitude

    Remmy stared into the night sky, wondering what the giant ball of colors looming over the mountain was. He reached out to hold it in his palm, strangely craving to taste the hues that mingled and danced within the lustrous orb. At first it’d been very small and glimmered only softly, but in time it became a giant amalgam of vibrant tones in both green and blue. It glistened, beckoning him to seek it. His fingers could not reach far enough across the horizon and he quickly gave up. Before he could sigh in despair, the star burst, crashing into the ground and spreading out in a dangerous wave of fire. Remmy stepped backward in panic, unable to find shelter quickly enough to avoid the crushing flames. He gasped awake. Remmy’s skin dripped again as he slowly got up from his dorm room cot and sat in front of his computer. His roommate was a ghost- they’d only spoken a few times (those of which were short and sweet) and he barely ever stayed to sleep. Some said Remmy’s roommate was a lecherous frat boy but Remmy didn’t give him much credit in that respect. He simply enjoyed the solitude available. His hand clicked a few tabs open as he began searching for pornography. Remmy searched his favorite keywords recently: ‘muscle pec play’. He quickly began sifting through videos he’d already found. Good ones were hard to come by and Remmy wasn’t particularly proud of his fetish. He began jacking off as a young, hot, white college boy began tugging on his nipples and verbally directing his arousal to the camera. Remmy held onto his cock and went to town, imagining being such a sexy muscle boy on cam somewhere. Something about that aesthetic excited him… The visibility in a physique defining virility, power, and health turned him on. Remmy was nowhere near describable as such but he wished often for a defined abdomen and arms that would widen his silhouette. His cock wasn’t that bad (a lengthy seven inches) and yet he always found himself alone in bed. The hot boys in class worked out, and he simply didn’t. He desired the sculpting of a trained man’s body and he craved certain aspects much more than others. He found himself drifting off porn after he’d cleaned off his stomach of cum. He meandered around the internet looking at pictures of sensually posed fitness models and stopped whenever he found a good set of pectorals on his screen. Remmy was a sucker for pecs (figuratively, guys never spoke to him) above all other muscles on a man and he sometimes stumbled upon photo-manipulations (dubbed ‘morphs’ by fans of such media) of muscular men with inflated chests. These made Remmy shamefully aroused. He knew it wasn’t very natural and tip-toed around the delicate intricacies of sex and gender. Regardless he found himself often sifting the web for the biggest pecs around. If Remmy were to have a beautiful physique, he’d want his chest to be extra beefy to show off. The college boy began preparing himself to climb back in bed when a blip on his computer’s chat application resounded. Sparrow had messaged him. They had known each other through a multiplayer-online game that had long been shut down years ago; they kept in touch and often shared tidbits of their very gay interests with themselves. Sparrow was into some pretty strange shit but knew where to find the best morphs as soon as they were posted. Sparrow also never judged Remmy. Remmy opened the chat wondering how anyone except him could be up at such an hour. Remmy’s own screen name, Crabby, flickered on as an ad for ice cream attacked him. He squinted at the bright colors and shut it down, reading his new correspondence. SPARROW: dude, you know how you study at Walcott, right? CRABBY: I mean, yeah, I’ve been going to class for a few weeks now. SPARROW: Fuck SPARROW: That’s where people have sighted the Cavalier SPARROW: That’s fucking hot, bro Remmy stared at the screen for a bit, yawning. CRABBY: What’s the Cavalier? Sparrow responded by forwarding Remmy an image of what looked like a sketch for a comic book. The sketch was from a ‘strange urban stories’ forum and apparently, the character depicted was some sort of vigilante with superpowers. Remmy didn’t recognize the character (he knew the common canon but didn’t read comics often) but felt interested by the very specific anatomy and costume of this ‘Cavalier’. He bore horns (for some reason?), a skin-tight wrestling singlet covered in convenient holes, and a few plates of armor. Remmy wasn’t quite sure what to think of the art but liked how big-chested the artist had depicted him. CRABBY: Is this a new comic? Is it gay? Sparrow then sent Remmy a link to the original post where the author claimed being saved somewhere in the city. Not much checked out; the original poster didn’t give out information of their identity. The original poster claimed that not only a gang of thugs had physically assaulted them- monsters did too. The scantily clad hunk in a mask appeared just in time to save them, however. CRABBY: Well that’s weird. SPARROW: Dude read some of the details! A dangerous gang had lived in the city for years, known as the bulldogs. The original poster claimed being inebriated, stumbling home when he walked into a pack. They attempted to harm the original poster, when one of them completely wigged out. This bulldog looked sickly and went so far as wanting to murder the poster. The way the original poster described it, this bulldog looked ‘beyond’ sickly. The vigilante in copper garb appeared and kicked their asses, only to have the sickly one vomit up a Lovecraftian nightmare. Remmy yawned again, reading up on this ‘cavalier’s’ wit and charm. It seems that the original poster shivered in the cold, only to be given a memento by the cavalier to keep him warm: a scarf embroidered in Remmy’s class year and school logo! The cavalier had mentioned having two and disappeared into the night, letting the original poster find his way home safely. Walcott University always gave each incoming freshman a scarf designed by someone within the previous graduating class- it was tradition. Remmy owned one of the same scarves photographed in the forum, hanging on the dorm room’s closet hook. He glanced back to the screen as Sparrow impatiently inquired of his opinion. SPARROW: Did you see?! CRABBY: So, what, there’s a superhero in my freshman class? How does he have two scarves? CRABBY: Wait, no, this is dumb, I’m not humoring your gay superhero fantasies. You know I’m not into that. SPARROW: Damn, I was hoping you were the superhero but that would be too easy lmao CRABBY: We both know I don’t have that kind of body. SPARROW: Yeah, but you could! I think you’re pretty hot! CRABBY: Shut up. I’m not discussing this. It’s just some weird tale someone came up with. SPARROW: bro wait look what I found though CRABBY: It’s 3:36 am, Keith. Like an idiot, Remmy waited for a response to argue with. After the third minute of silence, Remmy grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, ready to turn off the computer. A newspaper link appeared on Remmy’s screen. Remmy imagined Sparrow’s smug face as he read the headline. SPARROW: “12 GANG MEMBERS ARRESTED: CLAIMING VIGILANTE HERO AND MONSTERS TO BLAME” Clicking on the article link led to the newspaper that would be coming out later this morning. CRABBY: That’s a long headline. SPARROW: DUDE IT’S A GAY MUSCLE SUPERHERO CRABBY: I’m going to sleep. You’re an idiot. SPARROW: It’s just a theory! You should be excited, Remmy! CRABBY: And why should I be? SPARROW: The OP mentioned something REALLY important. Didn’t you see? CRABBY: He was super strong or whatever. SPARROW: Remmy no, he wasn’t just super strong! He could Sparrow owned a smut blog somewhere in the recesses of the muscle-fetish web. He was a mediocre artist, at best. A sketch of what the Cavalier might look like appeared on Remmy’s screen, depicting the hero in many different outfits and silhouettes based on the description in the strange-story article. Sparrow left Remmy one more message, explaining that these weren’t necessarily different interpretations… SPARROW: Fighting those monster things made him grow bigger, especially his pecs. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Four picturesque desserts sat on the old wooden table. Two of them were simple cups of ‘spicy’ nougat-stuffed ice cream- decorated neatly inside a small container like a fancy street-snack, seeming more like a pretty trinket than food. The third item was a frozen mousse made of pistachios and mint, drizzled in Italian liqueur-based chocolate syrup. The fourth was a new confection the college cafe had recently developed for the fitness crowd on campus; a protein stuffed brownie partially melted and topped with fat-free whip. The locale was rather expensive but it seemed that the people (mostly students) around Whitcomb University had an incessant sweet tooth ready to pay a premium on luxury snacks. Remmy slowly pressed his spoon into the parfait, his group sitting with him at their weekly class ‘meeting’. The four freshmen had been performing this ritual for a few weeks now and although they worked hard on whatever project their honor’s program gave, they’d recently accustomed to meandering around for entertainment rather than marketing research. Remmy found himself interacting with these people often now, albeit still as awkwardly as he was with strangers. The group made him a bit less nervous, sometimes. Emilio was a sharp-tongued city boy in dark hair sitting to Remmy’s left. He was very blunt and hanged with Lynn for the most part. She (Lynn) was a distant acquaintance of Remmy’s from his hometown; although they’d not known each other very well before they had a similar demeanor that harmonized well at orientation. ‘Reconnecting’ helped them survive the first few weeks of college. She sat to Remmy’s right. The outlier of the group was Chet, a young bodybuilding SmileTube star that so happened to end up in their group by assignment only. You either loved or hated him, especially when you noticed how easy life always seemed for him. He paid bills with the funds of his many online fitness, fashion, and celebrity videos AND got a stipend from his wealthy parents for any sideline expenses. The blond bombshell never apologized for his vanity and seemingly enjoyed the attention a set of massive pectorals brought him whenever wearing risque clothing. Emilio had grown up with Chet and watched him develop from a privileged pretty boy in middle school to a privileged beefcake in college. As annoying as these details were, Chet never hurt anyone and actively hung out with the group. As time went on the young men of the group gritted teeth knowing they might have made some bad assumptions (or Chet was simply that charming in person). “It’s settled, then. We’ll develop a new product for a fast-casual dining food chain,” Lynn said, typing up notes and tasting a spoonful of nougat ice cream. She smiled softly as she savored the garnish almonds of the dessert. Her laptop made a kitten-noise as it sent a weekly report to the professor. “Well, we could probably pick the restaurant now, then,” Chet said, tilting his head as he tried finding the best angle for his brownie’s photo. He’d gotten multi-colored almonds to make the dessert look more vibrant. This photo alone, along with Chet’s many followers, would change the menu. The owner would bump up the price gleefully and run with the publicity. Remmy hadn’t caught himself observing Chet, again. The tiny neon-blue tank barely fit the muscle-boy’s thick chest as it jutted outward for what seemed like miles. You could almost hear Remmy’s breath shorten whenever one of the meaty pecs flexed naturally during the mini-photoshoot. “We could do someone without a breakfast menu? Make an introductory menu, instead of just an item.” Emilio commented before scowling at Lynn for following Chet’s behavior. She certainly had a smaller following on social media but she loved taking pictures of cute things- herself included! He attempted to backstroke towards Remmy, a sea of phones clicking as per usual in the cafe. Remmy was too busy fumbling a spoon as Chet jumped over to Lynn to flex his massive biceps in her phone’s sight. Lynn was beautiful enough that the two practically belonged in a fashion catalog. Moving away from Remmy’s drool, Emilio drowned with an audible sigh of disbelief. “You guys are absolutely the worst.” He clamored. Whitcomb was a Midwestern college town, tugged at the sides so it’d stretch itself over a flat landscape for miles. Points of interest were always a bit far away but it seemed that tax cuts were helping it develop as a strong city these last few decades. Still, it was underdeveloped in many locations and the four scholars had to hike over great breaks in the sidewalk as they headed to their next goals for the day. Still, Remmy did not complain as Lynn asked him about the snack he’d gotten. He explained his affinity for mint, and how he’d heard about sorbet before but lacked the experience of tasting it. The other two college boys had been arguing about the quality of campus-created television without paying Remmy attention. Lynn listened with interest. Remmy didn’t often talk unless Lynn pulled him into the conversation. “What about Whitcomb Strange Tales? The T-Com students on that show have some creepy stories to tell! Although, they used a sketch for their most recent post,” Chet joked as Emilio complained about the lack of horror fiction on campus. Chet pulled up an image of an exotic dancer punching robbers in the face. Remmy swallowed his heart in surprise, recognizing the distinct features he’d heard about. Chet smiled wide, “I think this story will be a big one even if it’s not scary. They’re calling it ‘Power Paladin: Whitcomb’s own super hero?” “Chet, that’s a terrible show! I’m disgusted!” Emilio yelled. Chet flipped through social-media forecasting software and continue to bombard Emilio with mediocre entertainment. Emilio glowered and whispered, “You’ve got to share that pic with Remmy and me, though…” “I like the costume! I think they changed it a bit for the blog, though. He looks more like an armored wrestler now, when I hear he was more like a sexy knight or something.” Chet chuckled as the group walked through frat row. Remmy shivered with anxiety as Lynn giggled. They got a little quieter as they passed Theta Heorot Theta. “Everyone’s a little spooked by that mansion more than anything Strange Tales has…” Lynn said, her golden bangs blowing in the summer wind. It felt chillier here. “You think they’ll cut that huge dead tree sometime soon? I think it doesn’t help their image.” Emilio commented, Chet pulling out a shaker bottle to head to the gym soon. Remmy looked back the at the incredibly thick curtains of the fraternity house. “They’re too busy rushing, still. They used to have guys begging to get in.” Lynn responded, turning to Remmy. “Your older brother was in that fraternity, right?” “W-Well. Yeah. Usually you must be a certain type of guy to get in. He… fit the look.” Remmy responded, quietly. “Ah, but you need an affluent lineage too, most of the time.” Emilio rasped, looking at Chet and nudging his arm as he drank something sweet. “Oh, do you think you’ll be joining a fraternity, Chet? You seem like the type.” Emilio added. “THT invited me over for a few events along with the other fraternities, but I just don’t want them using my name much or pretending like they are progressive for inviting in a gay guy.” Chet responded, finishing his preworkout. “What was it THT was caught for most recently?” “I heard it was a drug bust… but that was the most reasonable of the rumors…” Remmy managed to say, almost in question as he stopped at the bus station. He needed to get supplies for his art class and it was already late for the store to be on the other side of town. “Do you need a ride, Remus? My car’s close by, I left it at a friend’s and I’m heading to the gym.” Chet asked, knowing the other two were simply heading back to campus. Remmy was very quiet with him. “N-no. I’m fine. Thank you.” He managed to say. Remmy fumbled a few phrases in his mind but it only came out as an awkward pair of thumbs pointing upward, clumsily gestured to Chet. Chet simply laughed and returned a thumbs-up. Lynn observed and Emilio simply moved forward. “Text me when you want, Remmy. If it gets too late you shouldn’t be out alone, I can come get you.” Lynn added as the group distanced from the bus stop. “Yeah, we’d hate to hear you walked into a pack of bulldogs!” Emilio yelled, speaking out of turn. Lynn nudged him but by then they were out of earshot. “Fuck off,” Remmy said to himself, wishing Emilio was there to hear it. Not genuinely -of course- but Emilio had teased him hard when a spider crawled onto the study table a few weeks back. Like a coward, Remmy had jumped out of the chair and ever since Emilio had used his cowardice as the butt of jokes all the time. Getting on the bus, Remmy wondered if masculine guys like Chet were bothered by those kind of traits (cowardice). His steps felt slow as he found his seat, not noticing the multicolored glimmer at the end of the bus. His eyes came up for a second to see everything was fine and so he stared out to the streets of the small city. The feed on his phone moved quickly. With nobody around, Remmy started flipping through blogs to see muscular men flexing, posing, and fondling themselves sensually on the screen. Each man exuded sensuality and power no matter what features and silhouette they had. They all seemed to have one thing in common: a monstrous cock and a monstrous body. Remmy lost his breath, suddenly, when he saw a picture of a buck-naked Chet on his phone. Remmy’s own cock jumped up, pushing through his pants as he stared, bewildered. Chet looked positively monstrous here- unreal! Sure, he was huge in real life, but here… holy shit. His back looked wider than a regular house’s door and his lats spanned so far, his tiny waist looked like it shouldn’t have the ability to keep him from tipping over. Chet’s abdomen looked mesmerizing, decorated in veins reaching down to his monstrous, swollen cock head. It was dripping a giant glob of precum within the capture, Chet teasing the viewer with a bite of his lip and his massive cannons popped upward in a perfect double bi. Still, thick thighs twisted into a perfect crossing pose, emphasizing their sheer length. Remmy finally calmed down as he recognized the photo-manipulation’s watermark from an artist he followed- Chet’s big, juicy pecs pumped with incredibly thick nipples as a definitive give away. In the photo, they were even pierced and ready to be toyed with unlike Chet’s real chest (Remmy had stolen glances prior). Remmy audibly huffed, saving the picture for later when in private. Remmy then flipped to the real Chet- where he’d posted a (still very sexy) picture of him flexing for shoulder day. Remmy himself matched Chet’s height but was much thinner- lankier. A dog with technicolor fur flicked his tail next to Remmy as he continued to self-loathe, turning its head to see the seen setting on the city. Remmy had completely lost track of time. For now, all he could ponder was life without debility and diffidence… The young man’s hands sifted through veils, watching men much like him battle weakness like his own. He watched their bodies change with perseverance. Some of them did it slowly; others stepped right into this new power. All of them, however, reveled as they became powerful. All of them also found themselves enveloped by swarms of demons threatening to punish them for breaking the status quo of disparity. Remus continued to walk, the veils becoming leaden as he watched many drown. He stopped to watch a glowing light pierce an amoeba of wretchedness, a thick hand blasting through to escape. A beast of a man tore his way through the swarm with his bare arms, roaring as his body swelled thicker and THICKER with vigor. It was hard to define more than a silhouette but eyes full of fire drew a halo atop the man’s thick neck, letting him banish the fiends and gasp in a prostrate victory. Remmy fell backwards the moment the beastly man caught eyes with him; he sunk through the darkness drowning in his own contempt. “You are just as powerful, Remus! I believe you can- and so do many others!” said the technicolor dog. Its tail flicked as the creature tried reaching the drowning Remus. “Just reach out and take it!” rang Remmy’s ears. His eyes opened, burning inside the ooze. A glowing orb flickered, changing composition as it bounced through possibilities. Remmy reached out, then hesitated. He felt his weakness crushing him like an enveloping serpent. It was going to kill him. His mouth opened and began swallowing the poisons enveloping him, sealing his doom. Then Remmy jolted awake, gasping with an awful taste in his mouth. “Last stop!” yelled the driver as he got out, not even looking towards the college boy at the end of the bus. The door left ajar, Remmy slowly stepped out. A clock’s hand pointed at twelve-before-midnight, smacking Remmy for being so irresponsible. An ominous chill passed the area, telling Remmy he should get home quickly. He had no time for strange dreams and wiped the sweat from his forehead. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (So, this is a new story I've been working on, and I posted part III on my blog because I know how lengthy posts can get here in the forum. If you liked what you see so far, here's the link to the next part. Ah, also, thank you very much for reading what you've read thus far!) Here's Part III
  7. BB Bookstore part one

    So, thanks for the ups on the other part of this I posted. Here's the first bit. I also figured how to change the colour to something readable. Enjoy, TC BB Book Store By Tattcub - 2014-02-28 19:36 Copyright © 2014 Tattcub. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author. Big Boys Book Store A short one...more to come in this one too David was bored. He had an interview at 2pm for a job as an intern in a local accountancy firm a few streets down and was an hour early. He'd already checked the address out and it was as he thought a dry dead end sort of place. He'd be the youngest guy in there by about ten years. What to do. He was bored sitting in the coffee store playing with his mobile so decided to go for a walk. He caught his reflection in the window as he left and shook his head. If truth be told he looked like an accountant. Slim, mousy and he was painfully shy. He looked at his brown short hair and brown eyes. He'd never really taken any risks in his life but at least he was safe. He lived with his parents still and that was easy. He did the normal stuff a guy like him would do. He had a few friends who were all similar to him, slightly geeky, all a little unfit and not one of them with a girl or boyfriend come to think of it. He was short-sighted as well, hence the specs and he was also carrying a briefcase for the interview. "Way to conform to a stereotype David" he chuckled to himself. He was a good guy though. Hard working and honest he went out of his way to help people in need and never really complained about his life. His parents loved him very much but if truth be told they wanted him to get out in the real world a little more. His dad had even suggested he go out and get laid. That was a talk David never wanted to repeat. He was looking into the windows of the various stores when he noticed across the street a bookstore. The sign said BB's Book Store. "BB sounds like a 1950's housewife" he thought. Being who he was though he knew he was going to go in and browse. He loved these sorts of places. You get a sense of the past in these old stores. All those lives in the pages there's something magical about them. He entered the store. There was a counter at the front and behind it sat a young man who looked up from a book as he entered "Good afternoon sir, can I help you?" said the shop assistant. "Er..Not really" said David "I'm just looking; I have some time to kill" He looked at the young guy sheepishly" If that's okay?" The assistant smiled and said "No problem, feel free to wander. We have a large selection here. Our biography section is particularly popular" He nodded down the stacks into the shadows of the shop. David wandered away from the front of the store into its depths. He went past general interests and cooking sections and even passed through the horror and sci-fi sections. He was conscious of the time and was only just having a quick look. He found himself in the biography section. The guy at the front was right. It was a large section. They had the life stories of loads of people from presidents to rock stars. David chuckled as he spied yet another book on Marilyn Monroe and surprise surprise David Beckham seems to have written another book about himself too. Yeah right and he was also the pope. He then spied a section on a higher shelf. He had to use a little step to reach up and look at the selection. The sign on the shelf said REAL LIFE HEROES. It was a section about guys who served their community every day such as policemen, ambulance drivers and firemen and so on. He picked one up at random and it had a photo of an amazing looking guy wearing a fireman's jacket smiling out from the cover. The title was SMOKE and MIRRORS my life as a fireman and model. The guy was handsome. He had short crew cut blond hair and quite piercing blues eyes. He had a square jaw and a set of almost perfect teeth. David thought the lips looked very sensuous framed by a light blond goatee beard. He flipped the first pages open and learned about this guy a little. His name was David to, but even from a young age he preferred Dave or D. He was a lively child who had wanted to be a fireman ever since he was little (Same here thought David the accountant) He was a good learner in junior school and a good kid. He worked hard and got good grades. He was also good at sports, especially football. He sprouted up in high school and played football for the school team. An injury in his senior year meant he'd never be a pro, but to be honest, he never wanted to be. As he entered college he was bitten by the iron bug and never really looked back. The book showed pictures of him growing up. His muscled seemed to be almost time lapsing with each page that turned. First he had the great build of an athlete. His body took on muscle naturally he was an easy gainer. David found himself loosening his tie a little, was it a little warm in the store? He continued to read. He then went to College where he studied a degree in crime scene investigation and fire scene forensics. While at college he the bodybuilding became a passion with him. He placed amazing high in his first show and then he started to train like a demon. David paused in his reading and took his jacket off as it seemed a little too tight. He turned the next page to see a picture of Dave holding his first outright win trophy at a local bodybuilding show. He was big. He must've had 19 or 20 inch arms here. He looked really hot. David closed the book for a second. He'd just though a guy looked hot. What was that about? He was about to put the book on the shelf when he realise he was eye to eye with it. That was odd, wasn't it higher than that? However, he decided to have another quick look forgetting moments before he'd been admiring the beef in those pages. He carried on flipping through the pages; after he graduated he'd been offered a place at fire training school and had jumped at the chance. His bodybuilding also went into a higher gear as the schools fitness centre was as equipped as any hardcore gym and a few of the guys were into bodybuilding there too. It was here that he'd met Sam, big beautiful Sam. Sam had taken control of his training and they'd become fast friends. Sam pushed David and David blossomed. He won his pro card shortly after graduating as a professional fireman. He had a picture of how he looked in his blues which had to be specially made to hold his massive pecs. His white shirt in the picture looked like it was filled to bursting from the huge shoulders and arms he had 22 inches now easy. He didn't wear ties easily as his traps made it very uncomfortable. David put his hand on the picture, almost imagining he could feel the monstrous forearms through the page. He could even see the veins thick and cable like. His hands looked firm and rough. The waist on his uniform was slim allowing the massive inverted v of his back to be emphasised through his shirt. His black trousers did nothing to hide the beyond human thighs. The picture on the next page was the one that did it for David. It showed Dave in his posers winning his first Olympia earlier this year. He was a god. He was huge and vascular with skin like tissue paper. His smile was perfect and it showed David pulling a most muscular pose. This guy was so hot thought David, so fucking hot. For a moment he thought he heard a crowd cheering and for a second he felt dizzy. He almost felt like he'd just cum He looked at the book in his hand and then turned his thick meaty wrists to look at his watch. He heard the store doorbell go. "Dave? You in there?" Dave looked at the book again; he wasn't entirely sure why he'd picked a book up on an accountants life. "Yeah Sam, I'm here" he said returning to the front of the store. His huge thighs moving against each other as he walked down the aisle. He adjusted his crotch a little to accommodate his non-regulation hose and went to the front where Sam, his training and life partner was waiting. "C'mon big man. You've got an interview to go to. Then when you've got the job as the youngest fire captain in this town's history we'll take you to visit your parents." They kissed briefly. Dave and Sam left the shop together.
  8. The BB Bookstore pt 2

    Well folks, Here's one from a few years ago. Not sure if I put it here. Just wanted to get my face back in the loop, so to speak. Sorry I've been away so long. Enjoy and please, please comment. TC. BB Bookstore part two Richard and Kayne By Tattcub - 2014-04-04 04:53 Copyright © 2014 Tattcub. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author. It was just one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong. Richard was a runner for a local PR company and he hated it. The job should have been sweet, meeting new people every day and doing projects for the big and famous. What did these guys do ? They designed websites and did adverts for dog food and baby powder. Richards ,job ? Well, he could source lattes from any number of shops in the area in 10 minutes flat. “A great achievement that” he thought to himself disconsolately as he started out of the office on yet another coffee run. “This job sucks” thought the 20 year old. At 5ft 8 he was average height in fact he was pretty much average everything. He wasn't an unattractive kid but was carrying a little extra weight here and there. His hair needed cutting, it was a little to long and was a bit too greasy, He had a few spots on his face and his nose seemed a little too pug like giving him a slightly piggy look, His chin was a little double but when he smiled his face lit up and his pale grey eyes sparkled. He just wasn't that happy that he smiled to often at the moment. Let's face it his main hobbies were watching re-runs of STNG and WoW, with maybe a little date with madame palm and her five lovely daughters. He was lonely and a little sad but he deserved more. He was a good worker to with a creative flair that wasn't recognised by his employers. He needed a change. As he wandered the streets, taking the long route to the coffee shop he noticed a new bookshop he'd never seen before. Which was weird as the place looked like it had always been there. They also had a small coffee area. “Cool” he smiled to himself. He could kill 2 birds with one stone here. He pushes the door open that jingles with the sound of an old fashioned bell at the top of the door. The shop is well lit at the front where the counter and the coffee shop area are, The assistant looks up from his book and smiles in welcome. “Good morning, welcome to the BB book store” he says as he finds and marks his place in the book before he puts it on the counter. “Hi” says Richard shyly as he hands over a list of coffees for his colleagues The assistant takes the note and looks at it and smiles. “No problem with this. Although these will take a few minutes to do” He gestures to the stacks that lead into the shadows at the rear of the shop. “Why not take a look around and see if there's something that catches your eye?” “Sure, thanks” Richard feels himself colour slightly under the guys rather intense stare. He can't put his finger on it but there's something about this guy. He walks back into the stacks of the shop and starts looking at the shelves and their contents, There's all the usual stuff. Fiction and reference off all types, he stops for a minute or two at the sci-fi section before he looks up and notices the biography section. It is huge. The whole section takes up the entire back wall of the shop. Richard starts to look at the books and soon realises he's never heard of any of the people in these books. Kyne Stanton “The lives and loves of a rockstar” Aiden Riddick “Running back but never backwards. A footballers tale” and so on. One in particular caught his eye, it seemed to have fallen onto a shelf on its own. He picked it up. It was a large thick book with a picture of a man half in shadow on the cover, It was the eyes that got him. They were a very strange shade of blue, quite dark for a blue almost purple in the shadowed light of the shop. The title read Kayne Richards, Play Hard Fight Dirty. Richard found himself licking his lips as he brushed the cover of the book before he opened it to the first page... He started to read Chapter 1 Kayne Richards was born in January 1976 to an East London couple, his mother work in a local pub and his father owned and ran the local boxing gym, occasionally hosting and taking part in prize fights much to his wife’s chagrin. When Kayne was born Craig Richards gave up the prize fighting and concentrated on making the gym a decent business with which he could support his family. Kaynes mother Margaret or Peggy as she is known gave up the pub to look after their new baby boy who was born weighing in at 12lb 3 oz. He was a quiet child who never seemed to cry and his mother said he had very pale blue eyes at that age and would often just stare at people. As he grew up Kayne adopted his parents work ethic and tried hard at school. Whilst not the greatest academic he was a good lad, who stood up for his friends and got into a few scrapes but usually won through. His father owned a boxing gym after all... He got his nose broken at 15 in a fight involving a girl he liked and the man who would later become his best friend and eventual manager Chris Sutton.... Richard looked away from the page for a second and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt a little sore. It must be from when he was wearing his specs this morning. This book seemed quite interesting. He glanced at the picture at the bottom of the next page and it showed Kayne with his parents at 16 “Kayne and his family celebrate his first championship boxing win” Richard continued to read... Kayne won several more trophies after leaving school and he started to work with his father at the gym. Always fit it was in 1994 that Kayne persuaded his dad to start diversifying and moved onto weight training, power lifting and body-building at the gym. Kayne Was a fast learner and took to the weights like a seasoned pro. He loved the sound of metal on metal and the heat and atmosphere of the gym. He was always there even on his days of, encouraging the long timers and teaching the newbies. He won his first competition for body-building in June of 1996. Richards neck felt stiff and a little sore, the thick muscles stretched his collar making it a little tight so he had to undo the button on his shirt. His shoulders and arms made the shirt seem a little tight too. “Must be putting on a little weight” he thought to himself. Not noticing that fact that the short sleeves on his arms were revealing new and powerful forearms and decent biceps that made the sleeves bunch when he held the book. The fact that he was 2 inches taller than when he'd started reading went unnoticed to, leaving him at 5ft 10inches. He continued reading Late in 1996 Chris Sutton, Kaynes long-time friend from school persuaded him to give up boxing and concentrate on body-building alone. Kayne agreed with the exceptional genetics he had there was only one way to go. Up. Sadly in 1997 Kaynes mother passed away from cancer but not before she told him that he had no limits with what he could do with his life. His father also became unwell at this time and passed full ownership of the gym to his son. Kayne up the stakes in the business converting it to a full Iron heaven. The boxing gym rights were sold on and re-located just across the road but Kaynes love was body-building. With suttons encouragement he decided to take his body to the next level.. going from respectable junior weight of 175lbs he put on another 20lbs of muscle in that first intensive year.... Richards neck cricked as he twisted it. The big traps rising up through the collar and forcing it apart. The shirt was now riding above his waistline by about 3 inches just showing a sight of the delicious set of abs nestled underneath. His strong Pecs just starting to push the buttons apart. His jeans were starting to look like waders as they began to work their way upwards they were getting so tight that he had to keep re-adjusting his balls to get comfortable. His legs seemed to be stretching too...His shoes felt to small and Richard felt warm and sweaty. Something weird was happening here. He glances down at the book with the Pictures of Kayne and Chris in their early years at Kaynes gym and there is an almost familiar feel to them. The story has Richard engrossed now and he continues his journey into another mans life. Kayne Richards entered several competitions over the next few years not always winning but placing highly in them. His body continued to improve. The gym business thrived as more and more customers joined and eventually in 2000 at the turn of the millennium Kayne took a year off and all but disappeared from the UK body-building scene to look after his ailing father. Kayne passed the company responsibilities onto Sutton and still continued to train in private at his home in the East end where he still lived with his dad. Sadly 6 months after passing on the company to Sutton Kaynes beloved dad died. He took the loss hard but never gave up on his dream and 6 months later blasted back onto the UK scene at an outstanding 224 lbs of mass and muscle. He had managed to put on another 30lbs of muscle in the year he had taken off and now was a force to be reckoned with on the UK scene. He re-joined the business with a new vigour and double his muscle building efforts, also opening 4 new gyms in and around London over the next few years. He continued to add muscle and was noted for his fun posing routines and quirky sense of humour on stage... Richard found it hard to breathe. His shirt ripped on his back as his lats spread out, thick and glorious, a true wall of muscle capped at the top by delts and traps that belonged to the gods themselves. His biceps finally tore their way through themselves through his short sleeves and rose up in all of their veined perfect glory..His forearms rippled with power and a trace work of veins bulged and moved beneath the paper like skin which appeared to be darker in the dim light of the shop. Richard knew this wasn't normal and something was happening to him, it was like he was being over-written. It was odd but not an unpleasant feeling. He looked down at the book he now knew he had to read from the end. He felt his crotch get tighter as he saw the pictures of Kayne winning his next two UK shows and then heading for the USA... Kayne Richards exploded onto the US body-building scene in September 2004 when at 6ft 4inches and weighing in at an incredible 254lb he placed 4th in the Super-heavyweight category and over all just pushing the amazing Dexter Jackson into 5th place. His idol Ronnie Coleman who took the Olympia that year for the 7th year running was heard commenting he should watch his crown this was an incredible feat for the young challenger. It was commented that his mass was outstanding and he was very popular with the audience. Kayne was thrilled with the placing but to him it wasn't enough and he went back to London to his own gym and went back to basics. Over the next year Kayne was a man possessed and brought in as much help as he could even training with the greats like Dorian Yates and Ronnie Coleman as well as up and comers Jay Cutler and Branch Warren both of whom had been on the scene for a while... Then tragedy struck. Kayne was injured with a rotator cuff two months prior to the 2005 Mr Olympia and was going to be out of action for several months. Kayne was devastated all his hard work had come to nothing. He had kept out of the limelight concentrating on his growth and focusing on the areas that had let him down the previous year. He held his head high and even though he couldn't compete still attended the Olympia and fully clothed it was obvious he had put on a huge amount of mass. He was weighed on stage and came in at a staggering 282lb. When asked to take off his shirt the blond behemoth smiled and winked at the audience promising them next year was his. Ronnie took the crown again that year and jokingly handed the trophy to Kayne to try on for size. They both received a standing ovation.... Richards jeans now hurt. He had to get them off. He managed to undo the buttons but it wasn't really necessary as a loud rip was heard as his massive legs and body-builder ass tore through the back of his jeans. He tugged at the front of them tearing the rags away revealing the massive pillars of stone that were his legs. The separations and cuts of his thighs was amazing. Perfect. Massive. Muscle. “Oh yeah”,thought Richards. “This is the stuff.” He briefly caressed his cock in his boxers, readjusting them in their new airier housing. He turned his head and glanced into the glass of a display case and realised the full extent of the changes. His monstrous traps and shoulders had all but destroyed the collar and top of his shirt his chest and biceps did the rest leaving the wreckage strewn around his godlike body just like a vest. He saw his handsome face in the glass, the nose had once been broken but it made his craggy face manlier somehow. His light hair contrasted with the strange dark blue eyes and made this a face that anybody could fall for. He felt the itching as he caught part of the transformation as veins seemed to snake up from his now exposed size 14 feet . They travelled up the monstrous globular calves. Popping out in relief in and the diamond and moving up to the calves that were so solid they could barely be human. He felt them move up to his abs which he revealed by pulling of the now useless shirt to reveal an 8 pack that would make the Greek gods weep with jealousy. They twisted around his back screw the road map. This was a map of the world in all its perfect massive, veiny, monstrous sweaty glory. His neck was practically a jumble of veins and muscle held in place by ridiculous huge traps and shoulders. The veins snaked through them. Touching and raising the skin everywhere, bringing the blood to every part of the engorged muscle freaks body. The arms were the last. Veins coursed through his biceps raising and swelling the peaks and dividing them over the tops perfectly. They criss-crossed the forearms making them almost alien sculptures of anatomy. And finished finally on his huge, hard, callused hands. Hands so muscular they had trouble gripping the thin spine of the book which had previously seemed so large. “What the hell?” Thought Richard/Kayne. “Excuse me?” said a voice. Richard/Kayne looked around “Yes?” his deep voice rumbled when he answered the assistant. “Sorry, sir your coffee is ready” said the assistant. Kayne/Richard walked dazedly through the stacks to the front counter. Half naked and still clutching the book but the assistant didn't bat an eye. “Did you find something you liked?” said the man innocently still not acknowledging the magical transformation of the PR runner. “Er yeah” Rumbled Kayne/Richard. “Now sir, as you are a new customer here I have two special offers for you.” He said. “The first is, please take the coffee with my compliments” “The second is...That you can bring the book back any-time you like and I will refund you totally for any dissatisfaction that has occurred” The man smiled at his bemused customer. Kayne Richards smiled at the assistant. Kayne/Richards took all of 3 seconds to decide. He made his choice and suddenly felt a little dizzy. “Cool, thanks for that man”Said the now 312lb off-season muscle monster. His clothes continued to change leaving him wearing a black stringer training vest and combat shorts over tan Cat boots. His blonde hair was cut close and his blue eyes twinkled as he grabbed his coffee and walked to the door after paying for the book. His huge legs rolling around each other in a perfect muscular gait at the door he paused and turned around smiling. “Any time you want to train just pop over the road” said Kayne Richards the still reigning Mr Olympia, As he left the door the bell jingled. The assistant smiled to himself and proceeded to wipe the counter free of non-existent dust.
  9. Satyr in the City

    Chapter 1 Buckling Season Sweat dripping down my brow, I step over the last fallen tree on the trail. I was reaching my usual camping site. I had to get away from my life and these woods always helped me clear my thoughts. Work was not going right but the last straw was the breakup from my last girlfriend. On the surface, we were great but underneath we were a wrack. Neither of us were having sparks after our first date. Once I at my site, I unload my pack and set my set the camp up. As I finished up, I walk over to a near by stream, took off my shirt, and kneel down to take a long drink. As I drank, felt the cool of the water spread through out my body. Suddenly, I felt the cool air on my ass; followed by a lick down my ass. "FUCK!" I scream as the person eat my hole and little sparks of pleasure danced up my spine.They spread my ass cheeks apart and went deeper with their tongue. Then they began to tongue fuck my asshole. Their tongue went deeper then I would image it could go in my hole. The person pulled up my hips, spread my legs, and started to play with my balls, rolling them in their calloused hand. Licking up my crack, I could feel a the prickle of a beard. Then he spoke, "I love the taste of a sweaty hole." His hand travel from my balls to my cock, which I just noticed to be hard as a rock and dripping with pre. "Now to see how this feels," he said as he rub the pre down my shaft. I moan as his calloused hand work my cock, lubing my cock with my own pre. Once he had my cock coated with my own pre, he flipped me over onto the gravel shore, straddle my hips, and plunged my cock into his firm arse. He hummed with content. "Feels better then I thought," he said as he started to move himself up and down my cock. His ass felt better then any pussy I had before as he worked his ass muscles around my cock. My cock was pulsing in time with my rapid heart in the heat of his ass. I moaned as he firmly thrust down on my cock, going balls deep, before grabbing his hips and start fucking with vigor. I barely notice how hairy his body was, it felt like some type of animal. He grab my hands and pinned them above my head. "Sorry, Kid," He said before licking my earlobe, "I am going to draw this out." I could feel his hard large cock against my stomach as he kept my hands pinned above my head. The heat coming from it was almost to hot as it rub against my stomach. With each bounce on my cock, he cock rub against my pudgy belly. I moaned as the being milked my cock with his anal muscles. Soon I reached the point of no return and thrust up into you to breed his ass with my cum. "Yes breed my tailhole, Kid," he said as keep working his muscles to get every last drop and jerking off his own cock. Within moments, he was grunting and having his orgasm. He cum squirted onto my face and into my mouth. I was about to spit the salty liquid out but he took his hand and covered my mouth. "Now be a good Kid and swallow." With no choice, I swallowed and felt a warm heat in my groin. I was hard still and in the other's ass, so I flip him over. "Hey what are you," he started to say before he moaned as I began to fuck him again. The heat from my groin started to spread into the rest of my body. Once I was fully enveloped in the warmth, I increased my speed, fucking the guy that raped me. I could feel my body change; muscles twitching, growing, and getting heavier, the itch of hair sprouting in places that I had little of and never had hair on me, and even the painful changing of bones. But I was lost in the heat of his ass and the lust I had. I kept fucking him, only moving him to get deeper into him. I even noticed that he had hooves but that was nothing to me. That is how deep in lust I was. Just getting off was all that matter. Filling this tight hole with my cum was my mission. I do not know how long I fucked him, but I did not care. I was almost to my peak, all i needed was to get more pleasure. I leaned down, took his large cock into my mouth, and sucked. That made him moan loudly and his whole body shake. I shot my load deep into him again and soon he was shooting his wad in my mouth. Not resisting, I swallowed every drop and then just collapsed. I woke up, on my back again and with my legs up in the air with a fullness in my ass. I was about to say something but then I wave of pleasure washed over me and I started to pant heavily. "It seems someone is finally awake," said the same guy that assaulted me, pounding away on my ass. I push back onto him and got a grunt. Smiling, I start to push back more and meet his thrust, making him grunt even louder. Then I did something I did not know I could do, I start using my ass muscle to milk his cock. "FUCK," he yelled as he when balls deep and unloaded in my ass. I moan as I feel the warm of his seed deep in my anal cavity. Quickly the warm spread to the rest of my body and pulsed few times. "Now you are fully one of us," He said pulling out of me. Whimpering at the last, I sat up. He smiled and offered his hand. Taking it, he help me up and I notice the change of my center of gravity. Then I notice the changes to my body. "What the fuck," I whispered as I move my hands across my transformed body. Where there was small pudge, now a hard six pack. A flat pecs was now were two meaty slabs covered with a bit of fur. My legs were now covered in fur and feet were hooves. My thighs were so thick that they changed how I placed my hooves(weird that I noticed that). I even now had a bubble butt. The most changed was my balls and cock. My balls seem to grew an inch in diameter and my cock was now a monster. I could barely grip around it with one hand, and it was totally soft too. Then my hands went up bulked up arms and thickened neck to my head were they found a set of curled horns that ended just under my ears. Then a sharp whistle made me come to my surroundings. "Damn," the guy said to me, "the extra load you fucked out of me did some wonders." Then he walk around me. "Usually just changed Satyrs only get juvenile horns," He touched them and I let out a growl. He went wide eyes and lowered his head. "Oh fuck," he whispered as he walked back in front of me. "Let me introduce myself," he said as he smiled and winked, "I am Brian Little-horn." Stepping up to him, I grab his flaccid cock and gave it a squeeze. "Little," I said, "I do not think so." He chuckled as his cock pulsed in my hand. I never thought I would not be repulse an other man's dick in my hand. Then I moved my hand and grope Brian's balls and massaged them. He moaned lightly. "If I did not have so many question I would fuck you again," I said as I reached behind him and pulled him close by his ass. "Like how now I have no qualms about touching and thinking of men." Bending down, I licked one of the ears of Brian. He started to breath heavy and his cock started to cub up next to mine. "I can not give you all the answers," he said as he tried to move away but I held him place, "But for that one I can answered." He gave in and start to feel up the body that he had changed. "You have always that desire to have men," Brian slip his hands down my back and grope my ass. He looked up at me. "Just you were raised to think those desires were wrong and you buried them." I smiled down at him. He blushed and turned his head. "But any other questions will be answered by boss." I release him and raise my brow. "Time to go," he said as he grab my hand and guided me into the woods.
  10. Testosterone Bomb- MGSS

    It has been a while but posting another short story on behalf of Captain Muscle. Comments are always welcome, any comments about spelling and editing should be directed to me. Any comments about the story proper should be directed to Captain Muscle. Comments help writers improve and provide you all with better MG Stories. But please enjoy this short story!! Testosterone Bomb- Muscle Growth Short Story So wasn’t a huge fan of bodybuilding or muscle in general. I mean yeah I had good genetics but never wanted to be massive like I am now. It had all started last week when a series of……you know what let’s start from the beginning. 1 Week Earlier I woke up last Monday to get ready for work. I started my normal morning routine, took a shower, made breakfast that kind of thing. I turned on the news while eating to see that a bomb had gone off. At the place I WORK no less! Fortunately, there were no casualties that I could tell. On the screen I could see what I thought was the cloud of smoke from the bomb encompass the entire news crew and building but there was no actual fire or explosion. It must have been some kind of gas or something. Then all the men on the street right there for the entire state to see and live on television started exploding in growth and I mean they were getting massive! They were growing and grabbing themselves on camera like they either didn’t care or didn’t notice. I heard A LOT of moaning and clothing ripping. A few of them started masturbating live on camera while the growth was happening. Then they interrupted their own news feed. “We are sorry that you have to see that folks! We pride ourselves on been family friendly. Once again we apologize. What we are apparently seeing is some kind of “bomb” that has gone off causing only the men to grow. Wait……. what……. OK! We just got word that another bomb has gone off a few blocks away at the Wells Fargo Bank on Main street. Our own Steve Quinn who is live via phone call is on the scene from a distance as to not be in vicinity of the gas. STEVE can you hear me!?” “Yes Marilyn we are at a safe distance. We see people running from the building and the men are exploding with growth! They’re ALL growing! I don’t want to get to close as I don’t know what these “bigger men” would do. All the men are just so huge and are now walking around naked exposing themselves! Oh wait now there…. OH MY GOD!!!! They’re having sexual intercourse right there on the street all of them! OH [email protected]#K they saw me! [email protected]#K I gotta get out he………… BOOM! Other bomb goes off across the street right where Steve is and he gets caught in the gas. “Oh [email protected]#K Marilyn another bomb just we……ripppppppp arghhhhhh” “Steve, STEVE what’s happening!!” “Mmmmmm so big……rrriippppppp grrrrrrrr mmmmmmm. Marilyn…. I…. growing every…. ripppppppp aaaarrrrgghhh man in here……. Growing. RIRRRRRRRIIPPPPPPPPP!!! My thighs……so…… large, ass so rrrripppppppp huge! Need a guy to plow my meat pie. “CUT CUT!!! We've just received word that more of these so called “bombs” are going off all over the city and surrounding areas! Once again a series of “bombs” are going off all over the city and seem to only be effecting MEN! So we urge all Men in the area to be careful! More on this as it develops after the break!” I just sat there with the fork in my mouth as the commercials played out. Flabbergasted at what was happening! It was like something out of a science fiction movie or something. I mean men growing and getting huge, this must be a joke!? BOOM……BOOM I jolt up and looked out the window and saw a cloud of green gas spreading across the neighborhood. I could see Greg my neighbor from next door running outside and he literally just exploded and is now Massive Greg. I heard moaning and groaning like it was the zombie apocalypse. Greg was walking around with a HUGE boner spewing pre all over the street while Nick from across the street was masturbating to the apparent sight of Greg’s pre spewing boner. They both ran up to each other then Greg bent over and Nick shoved his massive ram rod into Greg. They'd started plowing each other right then and there! I couldn't believe what I was seeing! Greg and Nick are or rather were straight to the point where they hated the LGBT community. Now they were both fucking each other on the street and WOW they were really going at it; like jack rabbits! Present Day Little did I know that I'd left the window open in the bathroom so a large amount of the gas was wafting into my house really fast. 1 Week Earlier I stepped off the couch after seeing Nick and Greg going at it when I felt the cold embrace of something. Looking down it was the gas! I tried running but it was too late. I exploded in growth, my work suit expanding and ripping apart at the seams. My now huge cock flopped out and started dripping pre all over the floor. Thoughts of muscle, growing and fucking other men flooding my mind. My height increased from 5 feet 9 inches to 10 feet. My entire body was just massive. I could feel my glutes enlarge, the feeling of them while I walked was amazing! My thighs became cut and bigger then tree trunks. My traps swallowed my neck as my jaw became nice and square. My shoulders broadened and became bigger then bowling balls. My arms so engrossed with muscular growth they bulged like crazy. I ripped open my front door and ran outside and saw one of my other neighbors Rick who had also just finished growing. We ran towards each other and he bent over showing me his glorious hole and I shoved my now massive prick into it. Filling him with my muscle cum! Present Day Now I wasn’t Gay before but I am now! Seems these bombs were set off by a group of people that stole them from the government. The government made these Testosterone Bombs for war. They could drop them on their rival’s countries and cause a riot with all the men growing into Muscle Whores. Only they scrapped the idea but never destroyed the bombs. Cut to a few weeks ago and this group stole them and set them off in the city. Every man in my city has become a Muscle Whore just like me! All I can think about is Muscle and fucking other guys. I have yet to experience forcing a normy to drink my cum. My kind has yet to try this. I say my kind cause we are restricted to the city while everyone else that didn’t change was relocated. Every once in a while they place a new recruit in our city it rarely happens but it’s nice to…. never mind...my mind went elsewhere just now it often does.
  11. Marvelous Man - Chapter 16

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1O52F8UJS70fDmrK2gYawUXBtklu8IEUwpOdaOZrPuoM) 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=1O52F8UJS70fDmrK2gYawUXBtklu8IEUwpOdaOZrPuoM) 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 16: Wrongs, Rights, and Rimming? Marvelous Man’s reality felt like it was becoming undone. He had been careful to balance his two different lives without raising any suspicion from his friends and teammates. Adrenaline kept accelerating his heart rate with the sound of pumping blood raging in his ears, and it took every ounce of the musclebound superhero’s will to keep his breath steady. There were plenty of questions racing through his mind, but one statement drowned out the inquiries: SHIT!!! In one huge reveal, Gemini now had a new body that was exotically erotic and masculine. Apparently, he had also been employed by the D.A.B. to act as the team’s new member as a technician. But the one thing Marvelous Man hoped would not happen is Gemini recognizing Justice in his alter ego. The probability of that happening at this very moment can be compared to pulling a pin out of a grenade and not exploding. Gemini had just subtly outed Marvelous Man, while offering a handshake. There was no other choice but to keep playing along in order to keep up face. Marvelous Man accepted the handshake; gripping it with caution. The muscle demigod could feel Gemini squeezing hard enough that it felt like his hand was going to turn into a diamond. This would become the second time today his hand would be crushed. He strained back a smile. Marvelous Man stammered, “R-really? What a coimidam-I mean, coincidence.” “Yeah, I bet,” grinned Gemini. The Director sipped his glass of sweet tea before continuing. “Marvelous Man, I’ll need you to debrief Mr. Yin here about our current situation with the Skeleton Lord,” Director Skye ordered,” As for you, Gene, I’ll need you with me when we start interrogating our petrified guest. I supposed he will respond better with you in his visual vicinity.” “Understood,” bowed Gene. Director Doug turned to Fairuza. He drawled, “Fairuza, I’ll need you to help record our interrogation. Maybe you can find something whatever Gilgamesh spills to get us a better idea about our skeletal problem. Especially with how he is associated with that fiend and how he managed to keep his youth.” “Yes, sir. Of course,” replied Fairuza. The Director smiled, “Splendid. Now if y’all excuse me, we still have about two hours left before our guest thaws out, and I will be taking my lunch.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>> Being dismissed from Director Skye’s office, Marvelous Man and Gemini made their way towards the elevator. Neither said a word, but Marvelous Man was too aware of the tension between them. It was seconds after they entered the elevator and it closing behind them, that he tried to break the ice. “So…” said Marvelous Man, “uhhh, as the Director told you, we’re dealing with the Skele-” “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a superhero?” interrupted Gemini. Marvelous Man paused, “I...am a superhero. Is my outfit not cl-” “DON’T! Bullshit with me, Justice! I know it’s you. I have facial recognition software like every other Soulem!” exclaimed Gemini. He continued, “I mean, at least have the decency to put on a mask or something. You can blend in with the crowds of other giant black bodybuilders in this city, but that can only fool human eyes.” The muscle demigod said nothing. Marvelous Man stared down at the ground; incapable of making any eye contact with his Soulem friend. The elevator dinged as it passed the fourth floor. “When we first met, you told me you were a trust-fund baby and was in between jobs,” recanted Gemini. Marvelous Man answered, “...That wasn’t a lie...at the time. After I met you that same day, the D.A.B. hired me to become a full-time hero. Before that, I had just got my superhero license and was patrolling as a hobby.” “Oh...Still, why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends...maybe even best friends,” frowned Gemini. The husky Soulem’s mood rings turned to a deep blue. Marvelous Man looked up at his best friend. It struck a chord in his heart to hear someone openly validate their friendship with the bodybuilder superhero. “We are! It’s just that...I mean...I wanted to protect you and my loved ones. I don’t want my enemies to know about you and hurt you, Gemini,” explained Marvelous Man. Gemini looked at Marvelous Man with a face of bewilderment, while his mood rings turned grey. He exclaimed, “What kind of fatherfucking logic is that?! Did your understanding of the world come from an old-timey comic book or something?! I ‘supposedly’ have close relations to the you that is Justice fatherfucking Starr. Because of that, I have to know your superhero alter ego, so that I can prepare myself in the event that your well-known enemies try to get the drop on your civilian life by targeting me.” The elevator dinged again, as it passed by the third floor. Mood rings flashing red, Gemini crossed his arms. “You’re doing more harm than good. You’re not helping. You’re just being selfish,” he lectured. Marvelous Man’s vision began to turn murky, as he could feel something building up in his eyes. He clenched his fists. He was a superhero. Superheroes do not cry. They must be a symbol of unwavering strength. But…the fear of losing the only friend Justice had and the sadness of betraying Gemini’s trust felt more painful than Gilgamesh breaking his entire hand. He choked a whisper, “...I’m sorry…” Gemini stared into the muscle demigod’s eyes. As he did so, the Soulem’s mood rings’ color shifted into white. His hand slowly drifted to Marvelous Man’s until it hesitated halfway. Changing direction, Gemini placed his hand on the bodybuilder superhero’s bulging shoulder. “...I care about you, Justice. You’re the only friend around here that I have, and I barely know you. Please...tell me the truth. Just everything...anything at all...Please,” he sighed. Marvelous Man closed his eyes to prevent any seeping liquids. He could barely hear the elevator’s ding of descending passed the second floor. The musclebound superhero sobbed, “...Okay.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Soon after Marvelous Man calmed down, the two relocated themselves at Marvelous Man’s apartment. Marvelous Man did not leave as Justice earlier that day, so the he had to enter the premise through the roof access. The muscle demigod then fished a silver key out of his pocket while making his way down the steps. “Ya know, I think this is the first time I’ve been on your roof. We should go swimming on your roof’s pool before fall sets in,” mentioned Gemini. Marvelous Man nodded, “Yeah, sure. I’ve never dipped in there yet.” “That’s a shame. Too much time taken up from superheroing?” inquired Gemini. Marvelous Man answered, “Yeah, and cause I spend all my free time hanging out with you. You kinda had a fragile body back then, so that’s why all we did was walk around the mall and watch anime.” The Soulem’s mood ring flashed to pink, while he flustered. “Oh...Well...thanks for being considerate,” replied Gemini. The muscle demigod smiled, “No problem.” Marvelous Man then stopped in front of his living room closet. He briefly remember his first time arriving in the real world through there. While the process of going to another world felt somewhat magical, crossing over and arriving into the real world was so instant and tame. The bodybuilder superhero place the silver key into the door’s lock; jangling an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top keychain attached to the silver key. “Soooo, are you gonna tell me who you are and stuff? Cause I assumed you brought me back to your apartment, cause you’d feel more comfortable dishing it here...did I really just say that?” said Gemini. Marvelous Man turned to Gemini, as the Soulem’s mood ring changed to white. He spoke, “I do, but I have to show you something first before I can explain everything about me. I promise it’ll make sense once I do. Just let me change before I show you.” Raising his arms above his head, the muscle demigod placed his golden bracelets on top of the other. Marvelous Man chanted, “Marvelous Muscle Magic, Metamorph!!!” The bodybuilder superhero was instantly transported into his transformation void. After having to do it countless times to maintain his double life, he no longer dreaded it. The feelings from the transportation and assailing on his erogenous zones were at first annoyance, then numbness, and finally accepting it and enjoying the teasing pleasures. His heroic outfit exploded like shattered glass; leaving his musclebound body floating nude in the void. This was then followed by silver paint slapping at his glutes and groin. His muscular globes jiggled in every direction, as silver fabric began to form. Once the hulking man’s silver thong fully materialized, the transformation vacuum collapsed. Justice landed gently on his large feet. Taking a breath to appreciate the pleasurable transformation, Justice could feel his sex at half mast. The bodybuilder looked at his handsome Soulem friend and noticed the bulging movements in Gemini’s zaffre fundoshi. Justice’s mouth began to water, as his thoughts wondered about his friend’s robotic penis. He then realized that Gene’s hypersexuality was starting to seep into his personality. “So...you have to say that every time to transform?” coughed Gemini. Justice sighed, “Yeah. At first it was kinda embarrassing to say, but I got used to it.” The musclebound man attempted to change the subject in the hopes of distracting his thoughts and changing Gemini’s dark red mood ring. “Did I ever tell you where I came from?” asked Justice. Gemini lightly nodded his head, as his mood ring’s color turned into purple. The Soulem recalled, “Yeah, you said you came from Sunnysville?” “Uh-huh. And I want to take you there. It’ll make sense once I show you, I swear,” said Justice. Gemini’s mood ring flashed grey, as he gave Justice a confused look. He replied, “Oookaaay...Like, right now? What, we gonna use teleportation magic or…?” The Soulem tilted his head, while his eyes gazed upon the silver key in the closet’s lock. His mood ring immediately shifted to a purple. “Wait a sec! Are we gonna walk through your closet like that magical wardrobe?!” inquired Gemini. Justice could see the curious giddy in his friend’s digital eyes. The bodybuilder replied, “Ummm, I’m not sure what you’re referencing to. But yeah, we’re gonna be walking through my closet.” Gemini’s white eyes dilated like a cat enraptured by euphoric catnip. “Oh my gosh, dimensional magic?! I am going to flip if you’re telling the-uhhh...wh-what are you doing?” stammered the Soulem. During Gemini’s flabbergast, Justice had bent down in an attempt to take off his silver thong. He continued to slide it down his tree-trunk thighs while looking up. The musclebound man noticed his robotic friend’s mood ring began to constantly fluctuate between pink, grey, and dark red. He replied, “Hm? Oh, I’m just taking these off. Nobody in Sunnysville is real, so it doesn’t matter if I’m naked. You can take yours off too, if you want.” “I’m, uh, I’m good,” said Gemini. As the Soulem watched his overly muscular friend pull the silver thong down to the ankles, his mood ring color shifted to black. A wicked smile crept on his silver face. Gemini spoke up, “Soooo, if you’re not gonna wear anything, mind if ya let me dress you?” The hulking bodybuilder stood up and kicked away his thong. He then looked at the husky android with a puzzled face; unsure if he heard his friend right. “Huh?” said Justice. Gemini pressed, “Just saying. It doesn’t matter if you’re not wearing anything, since you said the people aren’t real...which is a really weird thing to say-Sorry, getting off topic. But c’mon, let me dress you. It’s not like you can be embarrassed.” Justice had never seen the Soulem’s mood ring take on a black hue, but he knew it could not be good. His instinct told him that something was amiss and to say no. But he felt like he would be letting down his friend again if he refused. The bodybuilder already hurt Gemini’s feelings once today and did not wish to do it again. “Okay,” he sighed. Gemini replied, “Great! I’ll be right back!” As the beefy Soulem’s mood ring color changed to light blue, Gemini ran to Justice’s bedroom. Justice tried to shake his unease. It seemed like an odd idea, but it could be fun. He wondered if he had the will to refuse whatever Gemini wanted him to wear. The worst thing the Soulem could do is make him wear his buttplug. He then told himself it would not be so bad, since they are only touring Sunnysville. “Dude, did you buy some anime replica sex toy?” shouted Gemini. Justice flexed his eyebrows in confusion before his eyes bulged at a faint memory. A while back, he thought it would be fun to purchase sex toys from the internet that were shaped like props from famous television shows and movies. There was only one that caught his eye that was quite similar and came at a hefty price. And after purchasing it, he forgot about trying it out; leaving it to occupy a corner of his room. Gemini continued, “Dragon Pearls™ anal balls? Some kind of Chinese knockoff? Oh wow, yeah, instead of stars, it’s got Chinese characters, heh. Geeze, it’s heavy! What is this, fourty pounds?” “Shit,” muttered Justice. Exiting Justice’s bedroom, Gemini lightly jogged back to his bodybuilder friend. He was carrying several objects in his hands, but there was something else that would catch anybody’s attention. Slinged over his shoulders and around the back of his neck were eight orange spheres interconnected with a white string. The crystal-like orbs were bigger than softballs and had red Chinese characters planted in their centers. The Soulem’s devilish smile was even wider than before, and the color of his mood rings were constantly phasing back and forth with dark red and black. Evil seemed to be dancing in Gemini’s eyes; sending a chill down Justice’s spine. Justice quickly reasoned, “Those aren’t clothes.” “Neither is your Marvelous Man bikini, yet you wear it in public cause it technically clothes your immense dong and balls,” shot back Gemini. The Soulem whined, “C’mon, broooo. You said you’d let me dress you. I mean, are you not able to fit this in you?” “I can...but I don’t want to,” replied the bodybuilder. Gemini continued griping, “Justice. C’moooon. Please? You seriously gonna take back your word?” Justice did not need Gene’s ability to sense the sexual hunger radiating out of Gemini. He knew it was going to be awkward getting pleasured by his best friend. The bodybuilder briefly wondered if all Soulems with supposed functional sex organs were as perverted as Gemini was starting to become. Knowing that he would never hear the end of it and probably hurt their friendship, Justice knew what he had to do. “Fine,” sighed the hulking bodybuilder. Gemini beamed, “Yes! I brought some lube if you need it.” “I don’t, but it’ll make this go a lot faster. Just let me clean myself out first,” said Justice. The overly muscular man thumped his way over to the bathroom. His thick cock loudly slapped against his thunderous thighs with every step. Gemini called out, “Maybe you should get a spell tattooed on yourself, so you can stay permanently clean. Unless you’re like, ya know, some sort of supernatural being or have an artificial colon.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The bulge in Gemini’s zaffre fundoshi pushed against the fabric with furious determination at a chance to be fully erect and free of the tie-string loincloth. In one hand, he held a bottle of Crack Addict lube and the Dragon Pearls™ in the other. The Soulem’s mood ring color flashed an intense dark red, as he stared at the erotic sight in front of him. Splayed open was Justice’s rear end. The bodybuilder stretched his legs open into a perfect split; resting his exceedingly meaty legs on the couch. With nothing to keep his massive bubble glutes together, his virgin hole was left exposed for the Soulem to behold. “Well? You gonna do it or not?” said Justice. Upon Justice voicing his impatience, Gemini shook his head to relieve the carnal daze in his eyes. The Soulem replied, “Huh? Oh, yeah! Sure. Just, uh, give me a second to lube up.” “Just put it on the balls. My ass doesn’t need the prepping,” said Justice. Gemini nodded, “Yeah, I can tell. It’s already got a gape. But, ummm, how’d you get it to be so puffy? It’s like a donut.” “Anal pump. I’ve been using it for...huh, it’s been years, but I actually lost count, heh. But I had to get a new one when I moved here,” explained Justice. Gemini exclaimed, “Damn! How are you not a sex obsessed being if you buy all these sexy clothes and sex toys?! You don’t bother eye-banging every guy we pass by when we go to the mall and stuff.” “I still do. Just not with every guy. And I just feel that all my sex stuff should be kept home in my own privacy. But if I was still in my teens, I would’ve let you bang me without question, hehe,” stated the bodybuilder, “But what about you? You’re trying to put a toy in me and keep staring at my hole.” The Soulem sighed, “Sorry. After my awakening and getting my new body, the moderators for my upgrade said that I’d have a hyper interest in sex for the next week or so. So it should go away soon.” “Oh, right! I totally forgot! Congratulations on your awakening! I guess that’s why you got a new body, huh?” said Justice. He then paused for a second as realization hit him. The musclebound man spoke up, “Ohhhh, so that’s why it’s also called robo puberty!” “Yeah...so I’m really sorry if I keep drooling whenever I look at you. It’s just that...your body is really hypnotizing. Especially your asshole,” licked Gemini. While Justice was used to people flirting with him, it was different to hear his best friend complement the sexual appeal of his body. It sent a tingling sensation that aroused his man meat to twitch and harden. Gemini has made comments about his body before, but it was usually about his bigness or strength. However, his Soulem friend’s new statement roused a new hunger in Justice that felt like it could only be sated with more of those sexy comments...or maybe more. Justice hesitated, “Oh. It’s cool. But thanks for saying that. Ummm, can you put it in me now?” Gemini said nothing, as his eyes kept staring at Justice’s pillow-like bussy. He walked towards the bodybuilder’s hole, as if he were in a trance, and kneeled down. The Soulem slowly leaned forward until his face planted against the stretched buttocks. With his nose pressing against the soft, donut-shaped anus, Gemini’s nose inhaled the manly scent. “Fffffuuuuuck…” exhaled the Soulem. The musclebound man flexed an eyebrow in confusion. He felt something odd, but it was not a feeling of penetration. Opening his mouth, Gemini’s black tongue rolled out. It looked almost like a normal tongue until it began to flex and undulate like a worm. As it slithered in the air, the wet tongue started to glow a soft neon blue. The glimmering, blue tongue wriggled its way onto the bodybuilder’s perineum; tasting the smooth, chocolate taint. Floundering about, Gemini’s tongue layered the soft area with Soulem saliva. The blue muscle was still not satisfied, and trailed down the perineum’s line. It met its unfortunate end, as it collided against the couch. Justice sharply gasped, “G-GEM?! Wha-” Tilting his head up, Gemini snaked his glowing tongue back into his mouth. The Soulem’s silver lips brushed against the overly-muscled rump’s. With them perfectly aligned, Gemini’s face pressed further into the exposed buttock. Justice could hear a wet smooch, as the bulky android puckered and kissed several times. “Wh-what are you doing?!” moaned Justice. He could feel a tickling sensation on his anus, but it was hard to describe. It was wet, and it felt so good. It also felt teasing, and he wanted more but not knowing what it was scared him a bit. He could also feel a big object pressing against his thick rear. The object felt smooth and metallic, but it was warm instead of the expected cold. He briefly wondered just what Gemini was applying before a new sensation took over; melting his ability to move or resist. Gemini opened his mouth, during the mouth to anus make out session, to allow his glimmering, blue tongue to squirm out. It swirled over the pillowy rim of the entrance in slow, clockwise motions. Upon completing a rotation, Gemini would return back to kissing. He would smooch the hole’s lips a few more times before releasing his blue tongue in the opposite direction. With the pumped rim now thoroughly wet, the Soulem’s tongue went into a new direction. The blue tongue slowly slid into the gaping hole. It burrowed deep into fleshy tunnel like a worm without a hint of defiance from the muscle ring. It squirmed in every direction before returning into the metallic mouth. Immediately after, the glimmering appendage darted right back into the bodybuilder’s rectum to taste the virgin meat and explore every part of it. Justice laid on the couch in his perfect leg split; moaning in ecstasy. The tickling, pleasurable sensation now traveled inside of himself. He was powerless to stop Gemini’s unseen action, as he could no longer form a coherent thought. The bodybuilder was now mindless; lost in a lust fog with his eyes rolled back into his skull. The senses in his head spun, and he could no longer tell what was up or down. Pleasures of electricity zipped across his spine; twitching every muscle cord in his body. He whimpered, “Gem…” Gemini stood up. His robotic erection strained against the zaffre fundoshi and lined up against Justice’s pumped, wet hole. The Soulem looked down and reached for the drawstring of his mokko fundoshi before stopping midway. The bottle of Crack Addict lube and the Dragon Pearls™ were still in his hands, and his mood ring color switched to grey. His eyes darted about as if he snapped out of his trance and wondering what just happened. Keeping silent, Gemini quickly doused the orange anal balls with the sex lubricant brand. The color of his mood ring during the lubrication changed to yellow, before fading back to dark red upon finishing. Dropping to his knees, the Soulem placed the bottle of lube on the ground. He then grabbed the crystal orb on the end of the white string, and placed it against Justice’s gaping hole. The donut-shaped entrance widened upon the lubricated Dragon Pearl™ pressing against it. As the hole enveloped the orange orb, it accepted it with a soft, wet shlop. Justice grunted in pleasure from being stretched and filled. The gaping orifice then twitched as if it were a mouth hungry for more. Gemini carefully proceed with the second orb; resulting in the same outcome. The bulky Soulem continued to shove the rest of the crystal balls into Justice’s plump opening. As he slid the last ball in, his hand accidentally slipped in. Justice moaned at the sudden fisting, while Gemini playfully rolled his hand about. Smirking, Gemini pulled his wet hand out with a loud plop. All eight orbs were successfully fed into the hungry hole. The only evidence of such a feat was a ring attached to the anal ball’s white string; hanging outside the pillowy rim. Gemini stood up and gazed upon his handiwork. A shiny, orange glint shimmered from within Justice’s virgin chasm. Gemini’s eye wandered about Justice’s twitching body that was still paralyzed by the onslaught of euphoria. His mood ring transitioned to black. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Justice opened his eyes. He felt full and surmised that Gemini successfully inserted the Dragon Pearls™ into him. He then wondered how he ended up on his back, as the ceiling and the top of his pectorals now stared back at him. There was also something clung around his neck, but it did not matter at this moment. The bodybuilder remembered his anus was being tickled and then lost his sense of self and time. As he tried to recall the event, Justice then felt an intense itching on his hole. Trying to sit himself up, Justice spotted Gemini. The husky Soulem stood in front of him; holding a bag of shiny objects. The color on Gemini’s mood ring had now went back to being white. “...How long was I out?” hesitated Justice. Gemini smiled, “Long enough for me to put on the finishing touches of your new outfit.” Justice positioned himself to get up before noticing something else. “Why am I still doing the splits?” he asked. Gemini shrugged, “You looked really sexy doin that, so I split your legs again after I flipped you over. You’re surprisingly flexible for a super buff guy. It wasn’t even a struggle to get your legs to do it.” “Years of gymnastics and yoga,” answered Justice. Gemini flexed a suspicious golden eyebrow. He inquired, “Between all the bodybuilding?” “I had a lot of free time back in Sunnysville,” shrugged Justice, “Anyways, let me see what you did before we go.” Breaking from his split pose, the hulking bodybuilder placed his legs together and stood up from the leather couch. Justice thumped his heavy body back towards his bedroom and could hear a jingling of bells that he could not identify its origin. He could feel the anal balls wiggling inside of him with every thunderous step he took. Justice mentally admitted to himself that although it was weird to feel so much stuffed into his body, it did feel pleasurable and sexy knowing he took it all in. As he approached the bedroom door, he could not ignore another sensation he had been feeling since he woke up. Justice’s hole itched and twitched with an intensity that needed to be scratched. It was greater than its usual urges to be stretched and filled. Justice thought the anal balls were enough but figured it might have increased his endurance to take on more. As he reached down to pet the sexually-hungered mouth, the bodybuilder heard his Soulem friend shout. “Oh! That reminds me,” said Gemini. Dropping the bag of shiny objects, the bulky android ran to the musclebound man and stopped within touching distance. Gemini grabbed the Dragon Pearls’™ ring, hanging out of Justice’s anus on a white string, with one hand and placed the other on the bodybuilder’s wide back. He yanked as if he were trying to start up a lawn mower. Gemini commanded, “I wish you wouldn’t touch your hole until the Dragon Pearls™ are completely out.” Immediately after Gemini said his wish, Justice’s hole began to bulge against an object trying to exit. An orange orb was pulled out of virgin rectum with a wet plop ringing in the air. The bodybuilder gasped at the sudden stretch and partial loss of fullness. Electricity danced in Justice’s body, as the musclebound man was now paralyzed by the pleasurable shock. Before Justice had time to breathe, Gemini yanked the white string again. “I wish that you can’t take off the outfit I put on you until the Dragon Pearls™ are completely out,” added the Soulem. Another crystal anal ball popped out of donut-shaped hole. Justice’s body was assaulted by the multiple sensations but managed to gain enough willpower to do one action. The musclebound man held out his arms and braced himself against the doorframe. In the act of doing so, Justice sacrificed the power in his legs. The bodybuilder sagged to the floor, as his overly-muscular legs could no longer stand. Justice’s rear end poised up upon reaching the tiled ground; held up by the anal leash grasped in Gemini’s fingers. The bodybuilder shuddered, “F-Father...fucker...Wh-what did...you do...that for?” Gemini playfully tugged at the Dragon Pearls™ string. The orbs did not react this time; causing Justice’s round, muscle rump to be lifted higher up. Squatting down, the bulky Soulem slid his white, rubbery index finger halfway into Justice’s pumped hole. He then twirled in finger in a slow clockwise motion; eliciting wimpy moans from the hulking bodybuilder. Gemini licked his lips with his glowing, blue tongue, as his mood ring flashed to dark red. “Just testing it. Apparently, this anime knockoff sex toy is a magical object,” he replied. Justice moaned, “What?!” Even though he should be angry and having many different emotions about this situation, Justice felt himself sinking back into the lust fog. All of his emotions were being drained by Gemini toying with his hole. Justice wanted to fight back, but a bigger part of him wanted to give in. Especially since the itching sensation on his anal lips was finally being relieved a little bit. “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t look at the booklet in the box. Or at the very least, read the description info on whatever site you bought it from. But I guess when you have all the money to burn, things like that or even the price won’t deter you,” said Gemini. The Soulem rambled, “Basically, the Dragon Pearls™ are a mind control device that isn’t labeled as a magical mind control device, cause those are illegal. Not to mention, they would have been cancelled out by the magical mind control disruptors placed all over the city to prevent mind hacking. But this enchanted sex toy uses lust energy and can only compel a person once they give consent to have the balls put in them. So it would be really hard for a terrorist to use it against the president or something.” “Anyways, once they’re in you, I’m able to give you eight commands, but I have to start it with ‘I wish’. And every time I command you, I have to pull out a ball for it to work. Don’t worry though, I won’t make you do anything rapey like having sex with me. But apparently, the eighth command is permanent, and all the previous ones are temporary depending on how much lust energy was absorbed,” he continued. Justice could not believe what he was hearing. He thought to himself that he really needed to pay better attention to the description info before he bought something on the internet. No wonder that sex toy had all those zeroes. Gemini explained, “So I’m just gonna say in advance that I’m really sorry about all this, and that I don’t have much control over myself. I’m just super horny right now, and I just am now realizing what a sadist me and my dad really are. Sooooo, while my inhibitions are really low, I’m just gonna try to enjoy this as much as possible. Consider it payback for keeping a secret from your best friend that could have explained why we couldn’t have hung out all those times you were heroing before I got my upgrade.” The hulking bodybuilder tried to sigh, but it ended up turning into a moan. Gemini was not going to let it go even after Justice apologized. He then figured it was better to play along with Gemini’s role play, to keep his best friend happy. But when Justice has hit his limit, he will stop pretending to be deceived by the husky Soulem. “Fine. But...why does...my asshole itch...so much?” asked Justice. The Soulem smirked, “Grabbed a bottle of Crack Addict from your room. It’s that irritant lube that makes ya itch wherever you apply it to. Must be driving you pretty wild, huh, bro?” “Yeah...Can I get up now?” said Justice. Ceasing the finger twirl on Justice’s hole, Gemini uncoiled the white string that had wrapped around his finger from the action. The Soulem then slapped his hand down on the bodybuilder’s massive, round glutes; causing the skin and fat underneath it to ripple like a stone tossed into a pond. Justice moaned loudly from the buttocks assault and again from Gemini leaning down to give the donut-shaped hole one final lick with his glowing, blue tongue. He replied, “Now you can.” Justice remained face down for a few more seconds before collecting enough strength in his massive legs to stand up. At full height, his hands remained braced against the doorframe to keep his body straight. The bodybuilder then opened the door and slowly thumped his mammoth-sized body into his bedroom. Other than the anal balls inside of him moving, he could now feel the two orange orbs outside of him slapping against the back of his tree-trunk thighs. It was almost as if he had a tail. Finding the many wall-sized mirrors installed on the wall, he stood in front to gaze at his appearance. He became perplexed at what he saw, and realized he really needed to pay more attention to what he bought. The outfit Gemini made him wear was technically allowed for public dressed, but it was on the same level as Gene’s dating wardrobe. A gold-plated slave collar was now adorned around his neck. It had a short-lengthed chain linked to the front of the collar and drooped down into the cleft of Justice’s colossal pecs. Justice spotted his ankles had also been arrested with gold-plated slave cuffs that had small bells linked onto the sides. Focusing on his crotch, he noticed his hefty family jewels had been fitted through a golden cock ring that had been lined with a stretchy fabric. The shiny, metallic silver spandex housed his sexual fruits and stretched to a skin tightness that every detail of his manliness can be seen. The shiny spandex had the word “IT” printed in large, metallic gold spandex, so that even his crotch spelled out that he was bounded to a submissive, sexual servitude. Justice’s eyes were finally drawn to the last of what Gemini put on him. Shimmering on his belly button and his forehead were body jewelry rhinestones. They were white and sparkled like diamonds. The one on his belly button was the biggest of the two; completely covering the fleshy depression with a circular shape. As for the one applied onto the center of his forehead, it had a diamond-shaped rhombus figure to it. More than likely, these rhinestones were the final pieces, since that is what was most likely in the bag Gemini held when Justice woke up. “Am I supposed to be some sort of sci-fi slave prince?” guessed Justice. Gemini shrugged, “Something like that. I just grabbed what I thought would look sexy on you.” Justice looked in the mirror again to take in his new appearance. There was something exciting about wearing such an outfit, and it was starting to grow on him. It felt as if Gemini had awakened something within him. He always knew he was a power bottom but did being subjugated turn him on? The musclebound bodybuilder felt that Gemini would be the only one he could trust with such a thing for now; even though the Soulem was being a perverted pain at the moment. Though part of Justice relished at how dominant Gemini was over him. The overly-muscular man poked at his forehead rhinestone. “Well...I don’t completely hate it. I’m kinda liking this bindi. And the belly button one is...not bad,” he said, “By the way, how strong is this adhesive? It’s not budging at all.” Gemini stated, “It’s supposed to stay on you for a week, so I’m guessing it’s pretty strong stuff. So unless you want to rip off some epidermis, you probably shouldn’t try. Oh, and it’s waterproof and heat resistant, so a shower ain’t gonna make it come off.” Justice frowned as he played with his metallic spandex-encased bulge. The fabric felt smooth to his fingertips, and he was finding it fun to jostle it in his hand. He then spotted in his wall mirror a wet spot starting to develop on the silver spandex. “Fine. At least I can take off the cuffs and collar when you get those Dragon Pearls™ out of me,” remarked the bodybuilder. Gemini then mentioned, “Oh, yeah. One last thing. I stuck a whole bunch of different-colored rhinestones on your back.” “What?” said Justice. Gemini grinned, “Yeah, I arranged it to look like the Gemini constellation. So that’s my brand on you for right now to show that I own you, heh. But I’m not feeling it right now, so I’ll probably try something later that’s more noticeable and more me.” “Fine. Whatever. Is there anything else you added?” huffed Justice. Gemini pursed his lips, “Hmmmm, nope. That’s it. But let me just do one last thing.” Grabbing the white cord sticking out of Justice’s hole, Gemini yanked it. “I wish that you can’t move unless I’m wearing the Dragon Pearls’™ pull ring or holding onto the string,” he commanded. Another wet plop emanated from Justice’s hole, as another orb popped out. The bodybuilder gasped at the sudden stretch, and its sensation coursing through his musclebound body. It might have been pleasurable to feel and relieved some of the itch, but it also felt humiliating. Justice exclaimed, “Okay, that’s it!” The muscular man reached behind himself and grasped at the sex toy’s cord. Relaxing his bowels, Justice tugged at the Dragon Pearls™. The bodybuilder expected his hole to be stretched multiple times, but nothing happened. He adjusted his grip on one of the orbs and jerked at it again and again. The outcome was the same; not at all budging and locked within his rectum. “The hell? I’m relaxing all my ass muscles. Why isn’t it coming out?!” he said. Gemini smirked, “I did just tell you about a minute ago that you bought enchanted Dragon Pearls™. I even gave you that whole spiel on how it works. Only somebody commanding you can pull them out one at a time.” “I thought you were just roleplaying or something. It’s just too crazy for something like that to exist,” replied Justice. Gemini sighed, “Says the guy that bought an anime knockoff replica sex toy.” Justice said nothing while releasing his hold over the orange orb. The bodybuilder then attempted to touch his itchy anus; his fingers reaching out to the affected area. Justice’s hand stopped in its tracks just as it was about brush against his asshole. It was as if there was some magnetic field that repelled his hand away from his hole. “Dammit,” he muttered. As Justice gave up, the bulky android’s mood ring color shifted to black. Gemini spoke up, “Allow me to demonstrate wish three.” The Soulem relinquished his grasp over the Dragon Pearls™; slapping against the bodybuilder’s overly-muscled thighs. He grinned, as Justice’s body immediately seized like a statue. Gemini’s hands began to wander over Justice’s wide, wing-like lats, as he leaned forward to kiss the musclebound man’s mountainous traps. Even though Justice could not move, he could still hear and feel the wet smooch applied to his skin. The bodybuilder then wondered how the Soulem’s metallic lips were warm, wet, and somehow tickled his skin. As Gemini finished his kiss, he squatted down. The husky Soulem moved himself in front of Justice and looked straight at his friend’s metallic spandex bulge. Extending his glowing, blue tongue, Gemini licked at the bulge’s wet spot that now had a raindrop-sized manly residue leaking through the shiny, silver bulge. “Mmmmm. Sweet. Just like you,” flirted Gemini. Justice felt his cheeks burn. He was not sure if it was from either being flustered at the compliment or being humiliated at his paralysis. “...Thanks...can we go now?” he replied. Gemini sneered, “Don’t want to have sexy times with your best friend?” As the Soulem stood up, he dragged his glimmering tongue over the silver bulge. It then slid across the cobblestone abs and into the crevice of Justice’s mighty pectorals. All evidence of such an act was a trail of the Soulem’s saliva on the hulking bodybuilder’s skin and the newly polished navel jewelry; shimmering in the bedroom light. Gemini then changed his attention to the watermelon-sized pecshelf. He softly bit onto Justice’s left pec multiple times, as his hand molested the other. Chocolate pec meat spilled through the white, rubbery fingers of the hard grip. Justice could only moan at the titillating action and groaned even louder once Gemini switched to the bodybuilder’s nipples. Justice gritted his teeth. It was very hot but also weird to watch his friend make love to his chest. He wanted to ask when Gemini started to have sexual attractions to him, but there was something else he needed to say. Justice could not let himself get lost in the erotic euphoria and excitement from being dominated. The bodybuilder gathered his willpower and thought of the most unsexy thing he could think of. Pickle peanut butter sandwich. “I think that’s why it seems awkward to me. You’re my best friend, and...I dunno...I still feel bad about what happened, and I need to show you the real me. Please?,” he answered. Gemini instantly ceased his erotic activity upon hearing his best friend. He looked up at Justice’s eyes, while the color of his mood ring changed to white. The Soulem frowned, “Sorry. You’re right. I’m getting so easily sidetracked right now, but...I do want you to show me more than anything, dude. I want to understand.” Next Chapter
  12. Lake Light

    In the Beginning... I woke up in a good mood. The forest scent filled my nose with clean air. Grabbing my anxious cock, I had to take a much needed pee, so I walked out of the tent and walked to the edge of the campsite. As a nice thick steam of hot piss fogged the crisp air and cold ground, I watched in disbelief when to the right of me, I saw the huge figure of a man come out of the woods towards me at the campsite. I wasn't afraid of him, but I felt anxious. No...it was something else...I was in awe. This man was not ordinary in any way, he was just huge. His arms looked thick and muscled, but not super cut and his chest was enormous. Each pec was larger than my head. His neck was the biggest I'd ever seen, with enormous traps and shoulders. Still, even with all of his size, he looked strangely familiar and he was wearing my brothers University of Nebraska shirt that I had gotten him. That was a little too odd, but for some reason, it didn't matter. It was tight as hell on the man, and it even had a split up the seam of the right side and around the neck, which again wasn't a surprise, since he was so overblown with muscle. He looked like a pro Strongman, yet he had really boyish features. I continued my piss, never one for being piss shy and actually, as I watch him lumber slowly towards the campsite, I was getting aroused the closer he came. I'm bisexual, but mainly because I had a crush that turned into a relationship with my best bud in college, otherwise I've had girlfriends my whole life. Still, deep inside of me, I always had a thing for power lifters and bodybuilders. If they were big with muscle, my cock went big for them. No one in the family or even my closest friends, knew of my duel identity, but this wall of a stud was getting me hard and any inhibition of showing my gay side was ebbing at lightning speed. I just didn't care what he or anyone that may be passing by saw. In fact, I wanted an audience. I didn't know why, but all I knew was that there a hunger inside of me that was building. I waved with my unoccupied hand and I told him to join us, still thinking that my brother was asleep in the tent. Even though I had stopped pissing, my hand continued to message my growing cock until I was so rock hard, it was hard to fit my cock back into my shorts. The man, smiled and sat down on the make-shift picnic bench that my brother and I had made. Where we were camping, wasn't in some state park or crowded camping park. Our parents had brought us up to these mountains when we were younger and since mom's passing, we thought it fitting to come back to the place we cherished most. Dad, was having a harder time and couldn't join us, because any memory of mom just hurt him too much; even good ones. The forest was very dense, with a lot of wild animals, both tame and dangerous. We had seen bears and coyotes many times, but for some in-explainable reason, they never bothered us. This place was safe and private. Only a few hikers would sporadically come by. The place was peaceful, incredibly beautiful and isolated. It was special. I don't know why I didn't notice it before, but when the man sat down that's when I saw the shredded fabric of what was left of the red shorts that my brother had been wearing last night. It couldn't be...It just couldn't. I gave the man I look, that I'm sure was one of a mixture of "What the Hell?" and "If you hurt him...?" I walked over to the tent and pulled back the flap...empty. My heart sank, but then I heard my 16 year old younger brother’s, deepened voice come out of the man. He said that it was him...That he was Jimmy. I whirled around and looked into the man's eyes...and soon realized it was my brother's eyes. He stood back up and then I realized just how tall he was. He must have been over 6 feet and Jimmy was only a scrawny 5'2". I don't know how, maybe it was the eyes, or the voice or the clothes, but I knew this imposing figure was,in fact, my brother, only changed. Strangely, my lust for the beast before me, now my brother, did not lighten, in fact, it continued to build. I was slightly taken aback by that, but not disgusted; not in the least. I asked what had happened to him and he said that he woke up, while it was just beginning to get light out. He said that he was wide awake and felt instantly refreshed as he walked out of the tent and he felt like something was different. He said he felt different, too. He didn't want to wake me, just thinking that he was just being silly, so he decided to go for a walk up to the mountain lake for a swim. He felt like swimming. He didn't know why, but he just did. He said that when he got to the lake, he noticed something glowing in the water about 50 feet out in the lake. At first he thought it was the morning sun reflecting on the water. Then as he waded into the water he knew it was coming from under the water. Since we were just at the lake the night before and there was nothing, he decided to swim out to see what it was. He knew he should have gotten me first, but it was like he was drawn to it. He said that as he swam towards it, he felt the water getting warmer...or was it him that was warming up. He was sure, but then he said he felt stronger and stronger and (blushing) hornier. He still had his boyish charm. He felt pulled to the light as he continued and when he had finally gotten over top of the glow, he said he felt a rush of bliss (again blushing) like he had an orgasm, but it was all over his body and then he blacked out. The next thing he knew he was laying on the beach, his clothes were on but they were dry, tight and shredded, as he pointed to his shorts that now left nothing to the imagination, as his new, well over 7 inch cock and huge balls hung out in the open. Being such a short guy, Jimmy's cock was only 6 inches when Hard; I caught him beating off a couple of times. He said that he saw that he had grown muscle all over and there was another change in him, too. He had a hunger inside of him, but not for food. I told him that he should see his face...that had changed too, that he was incredibly handsome. I told him he had aged about 10 years and he looked like a man in his mid 20's. His eyes widened and grunted deeply in a "whattya know" kind of way. He said that he knew he had to come back and get me, so we could figure this out and so he could....he stopped his sentence, pausing for a few seconds as he looked at me and then he said that he immediately came back to the campsite and this is where we are now. I told him, he looked fucking amazing and he agreed as he looked at his body and began to caress himself, first his pecs, then his biceps, then in a moment a sheer fantasy, he did a double bicep pose that shredded his sleeves as he huge arms exploded in muscle. He looked away from his body and he looked at me, seeing my expression of shock, awe and not surprising....desire. He said, "You like what you see, big bro...yeah...I think you do" then his left hand grabbed his now growing cock. He walked over towards me as I was like a deer in the headlights. I couldn't move as he began to tower over me the closer he came to me. His cock was now over 9 inches and pointing the way to me. My own cock was so rock hard, it hurt. Then he stopped a couple of feet away, but since his body was so huge, his pecs were right in front of my face. I could smell the power in them. I looked up as his shadow covered my body. That’s when I noticed the hunger in his eyes. It was a hunger like mine, primal and sexual. My sweet brother was gone and what had replaced him was a massive hunter. The confidence and the animalistic attitude that poured off of him was incredible. I believed that to him, I was no longer his older brother...I was his bitch. I could feel it coming off of him and…it turned me on...more than I'd ever been turned on before. Normal reasoning said that his should not be, but it was as if we were no longer brothers, but...but an Alpha and his Beta. We just stood there for a few seconds with the lust inside of us building to a crescendo and then we leaped at each other tearing off our clothes as we embraced and kissed. Jimmy lifted me up with one hand and tore my shorts off with one easy swipe of his other hand. Once naked, he put me back down on the ground and I fell to my knees and took him in my mouth. His rock hard cock was huge, at least 11, possibly even 12 inches long and over 7 inches thick. I barely got his cock head in my mouth and only 6-7 of his incredibly thick inches would fit down in my oral cavity. He fucked my mouth like a bull and within minutes I welcomed the warmest and most lavish gush of cum to ever fill me up, but he didn't stop. He grabbed my head and continued his assault on my throat, miraculously pushing another few inches further into me, saying, "I can't stop Ray...I'm not done yet....I've got so much more...Aaaahhh!!" and he came down my throat a second time. I was having trouble breathing, so he pulled back just long enough for me to catch my breath, but then he plowed his huge cock even deeper into my throat. I thought my lips were going to tear it hurt so bad, but at the same time, I didn't want him to stop. And he didn't. He continued his assault as he face fucked me for another 2 massive loads. With each load he pushed further into my throat and by the last gush of cum down my throat, his balls were against my chin. I knew it was impossible. There's just no way I could have been able to take that abuse. I literally should be dead, but it was as if he wasn't human anymore, because no man could do that and at some point, I believe he changed me somehow. Then without even a glimmer of getting soft, he pulled out of my mouth, effortlessly picked me up and turned me around on my hands and knees and he plunged his granite cock into me. Only the head and a few inches were inside, but I screamed so loud, it scared the birds. Even with my cries of shock and pain, he didn’t ebb his momentum though. His grunts and growls only solidified that he was like an animal. A fucking Beast. He continued to push more of him in as tears rolled down my face, then more…8…10 and then I felt his pelvic bone against my ass. He was completely inside of me. That’s when something changed as it did with my mouth. Even though it was still painful, it was a pain that was incredible and sexy. The pleasure overtook the pain and it overtook my body. I didn't know why, but I later learned it was his cum that began to change me. It made me more palatable for him. It made me be the perfect sexual concubine for him. I began to plead for him to fuck me and then fuck me harder…and harder, to which he emptied the first load deep into my ass…and as I felt the warm cum fire into my stomach area, I felt the rest of my body orgasm, then he grabbed my hips, stood up, bringing me with him as held me like a wheelbarrow plowing his huge thick cock into me. His balls slapped my taint so hard I thought he’d bruise me. We continued to fuck for hours as we destroyed the campsite fucking in various areas and positions. I think he had unloaded over 10 orgasms into me, but I wasn't sure as I think I lost count. The tent fell on top of us, then we pounded on the picnic table, braking that and even I came three times before he finally came inside me for the last time with my shoulders on the on the sandy ground as he jack-hammered me, with such force and quantity that even though he had quite literally filled me up inside, the excess soaked the ground below us. When he pulled out of me, he was still hard as a rock and I believe he was still ready for me, but I was a lifeless lump. Completely exhausted, I pleaded for him to let me rest. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t ready for that, "I don't know why, but I can't...I need to take you there....I need you to change so we don't have to stop....ever!!" so he picked up my living, but exhausted body, draping me across his powerful arms like I was dead and he carried me up to the lake. My 16 year old younger brother, was now my master, my guardian, my lover, my Alpha. As I laid, slumped in his arms, I no longer even thought of him as my brother. He was the beginning of something amazing, and I was his first loyal subject. I knew what he was doing and I felt excited inside. I smiled and exclaimed “YES” when I saw the glow as we reached the edge of the lake. The air was different up here, instead of being lighter, it was heavy and you had to breathe in big lumbering breathes. My cock began to rise again has he walked into the water. My brother, pulled me up to him and bent down to kiss me as he said in an even lower and more booming voice, “We’re going to be Gods!” and I felt his cock push on my back under me coating me with his precum. Further and further he walked into the lake and with every step, I felt Jimmy's body react to the water. He was growing. I could feel his size increasing as I was cradled. As soon as my body touched the water, I instantly felt better. My brother held me like a lifeguard saving a drowning swimmer as he pulled us toward the light. I began to feel the strength in me rise and the feeling of power in me was exploding. I began to blissfully growl inside as my strength and power increased. It was as if thousands of hours of working out were paying off instantaneously. We both began moaning, vocally, as we got closer to the light. We weren’t even half way there when I told my brother I could go on my own, but he, told me no as he held me close and I was very glad he did as I could feel us both getting bigger and stronger. The feeling of my own growth was beyond comprehension, but feeling him getting bigger next to me, no human had ever felt such pure bliss before. We felt each other expanding and our lust to get bigger increased. We both had no inhibitions at all about what was happening to us and we welcomed it completely, with every fiber of our existence. At the campsite, my brother was like that of a linebacker, but now he was becoming a one of the biggest bodybuilders on earth. His muscles were growing and he was getting super cut. Thick veins formed on his skin. Hair formed on his pecs and actually all over his body as his testosterone levels must have been going through the roof. I myself, now felt what he must have felt when we were having sex, because I felt that I could go for hours and cum and cum and cum. I felt like I was stronger than most any human on earth and I knew that my brother was even stronger than that. We were still about 15 feet from the light when my brother seemed to convulse as his eyes turned bright blue and then a blue light wave exploded from his body and across the lake. I had know idea what that was about, but immediately, I felt like I could lift a house, with my strength increasing now like a rocket, but my body was still puny in comparison to my bother. I would find out later that at that moment, he had grown taller as well and that he was about 8.5 feet tall and his shoulders were over 5 feet wide. He was the biggest and strongest man on the planet. When we stopped above the light with it surrounding us, we again embraced as we tread water. We must have been out there longer than he was before, because I was now that of a slightly smaller Jay Cutler and he had reached his God status, that the light had obtained for him. My brother was still human, in his soul, but he was no longer a human being, physically and I envied him. His eyes became blue again and he began to chant. The words out of his mouth, seemed almost like the chant of an Indian would make. Then his body seemed to omit, the same light as what was beneath us; a golden hue that was filled with warmth and energy. We also noticed that we did not have to tread water anymore as either the light beneath us or my brother's light was keeping us afloat. Again, we hugged each other, in love, but mostly to feel each other grow. Wave after wave or continued power and strength fed into me, but now it was coming from my brother. I looked at him and into his blue eyes and he leaned in to kiss me. I opened my mouth to receive his kiss and that's when I felt it, one huge blast of energy shoot into me and I exploded in growth and power. I was now almost equal to my brother, but I knew that I would never obtain his status as he was the Alpha. I could feel my own cock growing in size, clearly surpassing most men, but I felt my brothers grow even more and when we let go of our embrace, I was held up by my brother’s cock. I felt it push against my hole and my hole opened for him. There was no pain, only sheer bliss. Again, I felt another explosion of him inside me and then everything went black… When we woke up, naked on the beach, we weren't alone. There were two hikers shaking us, but they quickly backed away when we woke up. Both men were very attractive, fit young men and it was clear to us that they were enthralled with us. We looked at each other and knew that we were going to overtake them and fuck them. They were going to be our newest recruits. They must have known it too and they walked toward their new masters. Both men didn't seem to be in a trance, but they knew that they were there for our pleasure and sexual release. The told us that they wanted to worship us and that they had never in their lives seen anything like us. They stripped off their gear and clothes and when both Jimmy and I stood up, they knelt before their new Gods. Then we all looked out into the water to see the glow still there and calling to us. It was as if the light was telling us to add to our lineage, which we were happy to oblige it by. The hikers asked us if we knew what it was? We did and we told them they soon would, but first, we needed to cum.
  13. You can check out the previous case here: Case A, Part 1: Case A, Part 2: Case B: “Can we please move this along a little bit faster; I have places I need to get to.” “Dude, you have to wait just like everyone else does, alright?” The extremely muscular receptionist at the front desk, Armand, has been listening to this 41-year-old overweight man for several minutes now as he continues to complain about the waiting time. “Dr. Darkori will be out soon, he has a huge backlog of people he needs to see. He sometimes has to spend more time with some clients because of their complex issues.” The side door leading into the exam rooms opens as two very well-muscled men emerge holding hands. One of them appears to be sporting a giant volleyball in their stomach as well. The other one hands Armand a clipboard as they wave goodbye to him and head out the front door. He smiles and waves back at them as he asks the overweight man what his name is. “Alright dude, you are probably next. What is your name again?” “Henry Davis. I was referred to Dr. Darkori by Dr. Aberdeen about a fertility problem I am having.” Armand shakes his head yes. “Yeah I talked to Aberdeen the other day. He said he was sending someone here that had an issue with their penis. The doctor will be out shortly to meet with you. I do have a warning for you though. He looks a bit different than everyone else you might see.” Henry looks at him puzzled. “What do you mean ‘different’?” Armand chuckles a few times. “Oh you will see what I am talking about when he comes out here.” After a couple of minutes, a red-skinned man in a white lab coat walks out and leans on the receptionist’s desk. Armand hands him a clipboard and he skims it over quickly. “Whew, this has been a busy day so far Armand. *looks over the file* Mr. Davis is it? Follow me then and we will have a consultation.” Henry follows behind the doctor into an exam room that looks almost like any other you would see in a doctor’s office. The doctor takes a seat at a small table with a laptop on it and starts to enter a few entries into the computer. He motions for Henry to go ahead and sit on the exam table. After a couple of minutes of documentation, the doctor turns to look over at the overweight man. “Okay Henry, it appears you have been referred to me because of an issue with your penis. My name by the way is Seth Darkori in case you were wondering. Just call me Seth if you want to, I don’t mind at all. Now, tell me more about what your problem is and I will determine how to proceed.” Henry looks at him in disbelief as he scans the doctor’s red body and muscular frame. He might even be slightly attracted to him. “Uhhh…..well can I ask you a personal question first? Why are you…..ummmm…..well…..why is your skin red?” Seth laughs for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Don’t worry Mr. Davis, I get this question every other time someone new comes here. I was born this way actually. It is in my genetics. I function the same way you do so there is no need for you to focus so much on it. Now tell me more about why your penis is in need of being examined.” The man sighs a little before he continues his explanation. “Well, I have a very tiny penis. It is affecting my social life greatly and I am getting tired of feeling bad about it. I’m not sure what can be done about it, but my primary doctor thinks you can help me somehow.” Seth smiles as he gets up from his chair to walk over to Henry. He then remembers to put some gloves on before he proceeds. “Sorry, I’m used to my assistant Brodie being here. He took the day off to be with his partner so I have to do everything. Let me take your blood pressure and whatnot before I take a look down there.” The doctor performs the collection of vitals like blood pressure, body temperature, heartbeat count, and even checking for lumps on the man’s body. He then motions for Henry to stand up. “Okay, I am going to need you to take your pants and underwear off for me so I can assess your condition.” Henry seems embarrassed but understands that he needs to do this. He sheds his dress pants and puts them on the floor before pulling down his boxers very slowly. His erect 3-inch penis and tiny ballsac are nearly hidden underneath the fat he has accumulated over the years. The doctor looks at them calmly as he reaches down to touch and rub on the small pole. “Hmm, yeah it is pretty small. What surprises me the most Henry is that your balls are actually quite underdeveloped. They should be much bigger than this. You should have healthy vascularity in both your testicles and your penis and I don’t really see that. I do have a procedure that I can perform on you though. Lay back on the table for me please while I go over and find the right instrument to administer the medication to you.” Henry lies back down on the table as the doctor goes over to his cabinetry and opens up one of the drawers. The overweight man can’t help but to watch him and sees the doctor pulling out a few metal rods on the counter. After taking three of them out, Seth walks back over to press them up against the man’s hard cock until he finds the right size for it. He makes a few ‘uh huhs’ before walking back over to put the other two back in the drawer. He closes it and opens a cabinet above him to pull out a bottle with a bunch of capsules inside. The bottle itself is labeled ‘enlargement’. He takes the rod, puts it inside the bottle, and slides one of the capsules into one end of the rod before putting the bottle back inside the cabinet again. He grabs a bottle of lube and walks back over beside Henry to grab an instrumentation table which has wheels on it. The tray on the table is already prepped for use so Seth can put his instrument and the bottle of lube on it. He stands very closely by Henry’s side. “Okay Mr. Davis. I am going to be performing a procedure on you that will cure your penis problem. You will be feeling a lot of pressure when I insert the instrument into your urethra. After a couple of minutes, you might start to enjoy it in all actuality. I have had patients tell me that it is quite relaxing. I am confident that this will be successful so don’t worry about it too much.” The doctor squeezes some lube on to his gloves and then rubs it all over the metal rod. He then finds Henry’s cock again and strokes it a few times to get it hard once more. The concerned overweight man can barely watch as Seth parts the cockhead’s slit and slowly slides the rod down inside his cum canal. Henry groans feeling the rod rubbing up against the walls inside his shaft as it continues to slide down even further. It finally stops at the base as the doctor looks at his patient’s face and sees that he is in a bit of discomfort. “Don’t worry Henry. The hardest part of the procedure is about to pass. I am going to release the capsule at the end of the rod and will pull the rod out slowly so it doesn’t irritate the inner lining of your shaft. You will feel a very strong numbing sensation passing through your entire penis and into your ball sac. It should not take more than a few minutes for the procedure to be completely done. *puts a finger up in the air* Ohh and another thing…..*pauses for a few seconds and then smiles*……there might other benefits to this procedure as well. I haven’t tested your blood or your metabolic system, but you may lose some weight as well depending on how your body reacts to the capsule. That will happen simultaneously with whatever occurs with your penis. Just stay calm for me for another minute or so while the capsule dissolves inside your shaft.” Henry’s cock throbs while the doctor holds the metal rod in place. He feels the capsule begin to break open as he releases it by pressing on a knob on the top of the instrument. He slowly slides it up and out of the man’s urethra and sits his cock off to the side towards one of Henry’s legs where it continues to lightly bounce. The red-skinned doctor then places the rod on the tray and moves it over to where it was before he decided to use it. It is quite obvious that the pill is already starting to work because Henry has a puzzled look on his face. “Oh gawd! Yeah Dr. Darkori, I can’t feel my dick…..this doesn’t feel right. *the numbness moves into his testicles* Ack! What is happening to me?” The man’s cock pulsates as a couple of light pops come from within the base. It turns a bright red as the veins in his shaft start swelling as it begins to lengthen as well. At the same time, his testicles are swelling as his sack expands to prepare for their new size. Henry feels his testosterone levels rising too. He is sweating profusely as reaches down to rub his chest with his hands and lightly moans to himself. The doctor examines his cock as it rises from Henry’s leg and into the air as it continues to lengthen as it then reaches for his stomach. It is now over 6” long as new blood vessels start growing from out of nowhere. His testicles are looking like normal-sized ones now as they continue to swell. The numbness is now resigned to just the inner part of his cock’s base as his shaft resumes its metamorphosis. Seth grins knowing that the procedure is working according to plan as he sees the man’s stomach starting to shrink as well as his shirt moves closer down to his chest. Henry’s cock slides up along the bottom half of the shirt as a couple of very bloated veins are now wrapping around the shaft as it surpasses 9” and continues to snakes its way up towards his ribcage. He moans deeply as he reaches up to pinch his nipples which are fully erect now. His testicles are nearly as big as golf balls as they fill in the remaining space inside his sac. Dr. Darkori runs his fingers along the slick wet shaft feeling its raging power in his hands as it continues to expand and lengthen. “Things appear to be going quite well Henry. *notices how his patient’s body is getting more defined* It appears that the capsule is tapping into your metabolism as well. Your body fat has decreased in half already.” Seth reaches down to feel how firm Henry’s legs are now before returning his hands back up to Henry’s huge shaft. He strokes it a couple of times making the much leaner patient grunt loudly as the doctor squeezes his huge cockhead causing a river of precum to flow into one of his gloved hands. The man’s cock has now reached his well-defined pecs which are now pasted to his soaked shirt. The doctor runs his precum laden glove along Henry’s lips before sitting him up on the table so that his immense cock can now touch his mouth. “I do believe your penis is in need of some attention Henry. Open your mouth so it can find its way inside.” At this point, Henry’s testicles have grown to the point that they resemble baseballs as they stretch his sac to its limits and his cock is beyond a foot long as he slowly leans his head down onto it massaging the cockhead with his tongue and lips moaning deeply as he tastes the sticky precum flowing down into his throat. His body has now gotten down to less than 10% fat as his muscles are completely visible in his shirt. He moves further down on his shaft and picks up speed on it as it swells and his ballsac contracts. His voice strains as the sensation is nearly too much for him to bear as he feels his cock getting ready to blast his insides. As the river of cum rushes into his 15” rod and down into his stomach, the doctor watches Henry’s body hemorrhage as his muscles start exploding in size. He moans deeply as he continues to massage his huge pole with his mouth as the white flood starts to roll out of his mouth and down the sides of the powerful rod. With his body still arched downward, he tries to stay in rhythm as his abs, obliques, and lower back muscles double up on each other. He comes up for air after swallowing a few gulps of cum to take a few deep breaths as his pecs and upper back blast through his shirt as it cascades to the ground beside the doctor. He is now reveling in his transformation. “YES! MORE…..I WANT MORE! I haven’t felt this alive in my entire life. Feed me more oh great penis!” He goes back to worshipping his cock as it dumps more cum inside his body. His voice is noticeably deeper as well now as his facial muscles look much fuller than before and the hair on the top of his head is growing much thicker. He is developing a very thick brown bushy beard with a few grey strands in between every few hairs. Seth continues to squeeze the massive pole as Henry’s softball-sized nads react to the stimulation. Both of the growing man’s legs are inflating into huge hairy redwood-sized tree trunks which coincide with the huge heart-shaped diamonds that are taking over the lower half of his body. His shoes explode under the sheer power of his fat toes and 18” feet. The doctor seems to be quite taken with Henry’s metamorphosis now. He pulls his patient’s 16” member out of his mouth to lean in to run his own tongue all over the massive cockhead which continues to spurt thick globs of cum. He makes a few ‘mmmm’ sounds before he looks into Henry’s eyes to tell him something. “It tastes quite good Henry. *feels a quick rush of energy passing through him* I think I am…..*his back and chest muscles immediately tear through his lab coat* OHH GAWD YES! This is going to be quite fierce.” The doctor flexes his guns and pushes his chest out to destroy whatever fabric is left on the top of his coat. His legs and cock emerge shortly after that as the red behemoth grunts a few times before hopping on to the table and positioning himself just above Henry’s gargantuan pole. It immediately starts to slide itself into the big doctor’s hole which stuns the patient. Somehow, Seth’s body is molding itself to his cock as it continues to slide further inside. Seth smiles at Henry before bouncing up and down on him. The huge muscular top moans loudly as his cock and balls continue to produce more and more cum as it floods the doctor’s system in waves. “YES! This feels so good Henry. I can feel myself…..*loud stretching noises are ringing from all over his body* MMMMMM…..your cock is an amazing muscle builder Mr. Davis.” Seth is growing again as he feels his legs and ass spilling over the sides of Henry’s waist. He bends over to bury his growing tits in his patient’s face as his nipples start leaking fluid down the muscleman’s big chest. The horny top munches on them tasting the sweet liquid coming from them as the doctor’s dick manages to find Henry’s mouth from in between his huge red mountains. Henry sucks on his cock vigorously tasting the thick precum as he takes turns on Seth’s bloated pecs and his raging 20” cock. The exam table crumbles beneath them as they continue to keep pace with each other. After a few minutes of toying with the doctor’s mammoth cockhead, he is rewarded with a thick white flood which places Henry in a comatose state. It is the tastiest liquid he has ever consumed but it is also too much for his mind to handle as he lies there motionless. “OH DAMN! I’m sorry about that Mr. Davis. I got so ravaged by my lust that I forgot that my cum causes a euphoria in humans. I think we need to stop now anyway since it is obvious that this was a rousing success. Unfortunately, I will have to give you a partial antidote to this because you can’t leave here looking like this.” The doctor slowly slides up and off his dazed client as he waddles over to the cabinets again where he realizes that his hands are too big to open the cabinetry. He breaks the cabinet door open to retrieve a long needle with a huge bottle of liquid. He quickly jabs the syringe into the bottle and collects part of the specimen before plunging the needle into his bulging 28” right gun. He finds another long needle and collects more of the specimen into that one before walking back over to his patient’s side and gets down on the ground again. He is already starting to shrink as he plunges the needle into Henry’s huge 25” left bicep. “This is a fast-acting agent in case you didn’t notice already. Don’t worry your penis and ballsac will still retain a very healthy size after you scale down a bit.” After just thirty seconds of the serum being in his system, Henry shrinks down to about half the size he was before. His cock slowly shrinks down a few inches, but then stops at around the 10-11” mark while his balls stop somewhere between golf ball and baseball size. The doctor examines them closely before sucking on Henry’s cock a few times to make it rise again. He smiles as he continues to jerk him until a few more ropes of cum come spilling out his cockhead. “Everything looks perfect now Henry. I have done all I can do for you at this point in time. Now if you will, please go wash up in the bathroom over here *points to the other side of the room* while I clean up some of the mess we made.” He helps Henry up and leads him over to the bathroom where the lean muscular man begins to shower. The rubble they left is pushed into a corner on the other side of the room as the doctor finds a clean shirt and a pair of pants for him to wear when he leaves. He remembers that Henry was wearing boxers as well as he finds them sitting on the table he was doing some of his research on. He picks them up and hands them in to Henry who gasps loudly when he puts them on. He quickly rushes out into the exam room and points down at his huge bulge. “OH MY GAWD! It is so huge I can barely wear these now. This is awesome! Thank you so much Dr. Darkori.” The doctor grins and hands Henry the shirt and pants he got for him and tells him to put them on. They fit almost perfectly as his new incredibly well-toned muscular body fills in every square inch underneath the fabric. Seth finds Henry’s old pants and hands them to him. “I don’t think you will be needing those anymore Mr. Davis. Your legs might fit fine inside the pants, but your waistline is probably half the size it was when you walked in here. These are just a reminder of who you were before. Okay, I think my work here is done. *hands him a clipboard after he signs his name on the dotted line* Take this to the man at the front desk and you can go ahead and leave. Call me when you need to come back for anything else. *waves goodbye*” Henry waves back and smiles as he goes out the exam room door and down the hallway. Seth rushes into the bathroom shortly after to take a shower himself. He remembers that he needs to find another lab coat in the closet and puts it on first to make sure that he can fit in it. After cleaning up, he secures it firmly so that his junk doesn’t fall out by accident. It is time for him to meet his next client and leaves the exam room to go back out to the main lobby.
  14. Marvelous Man - Chapter 9

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1fWR-rfdhN_UycbGeWAlGpvy-jsMu8pgkb8-dx5GR7XM) 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/ First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Chapter 9: Celestial Meteor It was half an hour later that the two gathered their supplies, and Marvelous Man flew to the location. Gene Lightfoot was in his rabbit form; cradled in Marvelous Man’s brawny arms and nestled against the bulging pectorals. During the flight over, Marvelous Man could feel Gene emitting the emotions of frustration. As Marvelous Man began his descent to a street corner across the abandoned Ridgemont subway station, he observed his surroundings. The Ridgemont subway station appeared to be located in a desolate ghetto with decaying structures and broken windows. The area itself was tucked far away at the edge of Skyway City by the decrepit factories that shut down a long time ago and no longer billowed smoke from its tall chimney stacks that could blanket the sky. As for the subway station’s entrance, it was partially bordered up on its top half. The lower half showed marks of being plied off; definitely evidence that somebody was still residing in the abandoned subway. Nearing the ground, Gene leapt from Marvelous Man’s embrace and shifted back into his humanoid form. He stood up straight and closed his eyes. His white bunny ears twitched in different directions as if he were trying to detect any sound like a sonar. Marvelous Man placed a hand on a patch that was freshly ironed onto the shoulder of his black jacket. The decorative patch was the D.A.B. logo; fonted in white and outlined in cobalt blue. While it advertised Marvelous Man’s association, it was enchanted to act as a telepathic communicator with his own teammates and anybody else able to receive the psychic signal. He projected his thoughts, “Faraiza, we got to subway station. We’re in front of it right now.” It felt weird for Marvelous Man to use his thoughts to call out to someone. Like screaming into a void, but the screamer cannot hear the sounds they emit. It was best to not think about how thoughts sound in one’s own head. Regardless of how he felt, Faraiza explained that it was the only way to use his new communicator. “Yes, I have visual of it now. Gene, do you detect anybody?” replied Faraiza. Gene paused, “...No. I do not sense the presence of anyone at all. This is most suspicious.” Marvelous Man could hear the voices of his teammates echo in his head. There was no direction of where the noise originated from. It was all around him and inside himself. He shivered at this first experience of telepathy. “Should we head inside?” he asked. Faraiza answered, “Not yet. I’m not detecting any traps, but I think you should stay put and survey the entrance. I’ll do some quick research to see if there’s another way in. If Gene’s not sensing anybody, you two could be walking in a trap. Either that or the homeless community moved before the Skeleton Lord arrived.” “Roger,” nodded Gene. Gene turned to a dilapidated building on his right and appeared to be analyzing its structure. Its door removed some time ago, and any of its windows that were not already shattered had a layers of grime filmed over it. The bunny demigod pointed, “Let us take shelter in there for now. Their windows on the second floor have a vantage point for observing the subway entrance.” “Alright,” complied Marvelous Man. The two heroes went inside the building without saying a word. From what was left of the interior, Marvelous Man surmised the structure used to be a bakery or cafe on the first floor. The second floor seemed to be an office and an apartment. As the duo wordlessly settled in front of grimy windows, Marvelous Man felt it was the best time to break the ice. There was a certain tension about Gene, but he was not sure if it was due to the mission they were currently handling. He took a cloth he found on the floor and wiped the dirty layer off of a window pane, as he carefully chose his next words. Marvelous Man hesitated, “Hey, Gene...are you okay?” “Yes, I am well. I have no physical condition that will hinder our progress,” replied Gene. Marvelous Man swallowed, “Yeah, I know. But...That’s not what I meant. Are you emotionally okay? You seem tense. Is it because of the seriousness of our mission or what the Skeleton Lord did…” The emotions in Gene’s eyes seem to withdraw for a moment before coming back. The rabbit demigod began broadcasting the emotions of uneasiness. “It...It is not what he did to me that leaves you to perceive that I am having the shaken...It is what he said,” hesitated Gene. He continued, “That...thing said that it was responsible for the death of my people. That he is the reason why my race is a multitude of tribes scattered and hidden across the earth. I had never conceived that my tribe was once united with all the other tribes, but I have also never heard of it happening before. If what he said is true, should not there be history records of this Skeleton Lord?” Marvelous Man looked out the window to keep watch over the subway entrance. He did not know that Gene was part of an actual race. But it did make sense when the Skeleton Lord kept calling Gene Lightfoot that name. It just did not occur to him until the bunny demigod brought it up. There was also something he remembered in the debriefing. “There should’ve. I mean, your people should’ve known if there was a maniac like that. But not even the magical researchers know about him. Like he never existed,” agreed Marvelous Man. Gene’s rabbit ears twitched, “Or maybe nobody wanted to remember he existed. The Skeleton Lord seemed surprised that we did not fear him or even know of his name.” The white rabbit ears on Gene’s head began to droop. Marvelous Man then felt an all too familiar emotion wash over him. Loneliness. “But my people were not just united,” said Gene, “He said we were many. We populated everywhere with the humans. And all of my ancestors had the rabbit ears. All of them. To not only be able to explore the world but also be chosen...I cannot help but envy that such a thing might have happened at one point.” “But..aren’t you doing that right now?” questioned Marvelous Man. Gene shook his head, “It is not the same. Not many know of the ways of my people, and not many have the curiosity for discovering it. You see, all of our Totochtin tribes have only one person in every generation to be blessed by our rabbit god. The choosing happens after a tournament is held to find one who is victorious over their other brothers with their own strength and skill.” “When one is chosen to receive the rabbit ears and have their potential to be unlocked, they must go on a sacred pilgrimage. They must scour a region and find other male warriors to challenge them to combat. If one is able to best our chosen, he gifts the warrior with the best sexual experience he will never find anywhere else. This is an exchange to reap the victor’s seed, so it can be used to birth a new generation for our tribe. The chosen one will continue the process until he has completed exploring the region. And thus, our tribe becomes stronger with every descendant, and the cycle begins anew,” explained Gene. Marvelous Man willed his face with all his might to not express bewilderment. With no mirror around, he was not sure if his body betrayed him or not. He wondered if being baffled was also an emotion and hoped Gene could not detect. He saw Gene give a small smile as if he knew or was aware of how his culture was perceived by outsiders. Marvelous Man cleared his throat, “So...I guess your time here in North America is limited, huh?” “Yes, but also no. I was not assigned to this region,” twitched Gene, “I am sorry, but my story will have to be shared for another time. Someone has arrived, and they are curious.” Staring out the window, Marvelous Man spotted a woman in a red female kung fu uniform with visor sunglasses over her eyes. He immediately recognized her. “Octomentist?” he said to himself. Gene glanced, “You know of her?” “I met her yesterday. We teamed up to fight the PB&J Gang,” answered Marvelous Man. Octomentist looked about as if she were searching for someone. She looked up where Marvelous Man and Gene were stationed at for a few seconds before resuming her exploration. Gene inquired, “Is she from the Arkos Division?” “Yeah, how’d you know?” said Marvelous Man. Gene replied, “Most members from a superhero company dress themselves according to the colors their companies favor. It is much like how I dress with the blue to proclaim my association with the D.A.B. Though some people do the compromise by carrying a colored accessory in relation to their employer yet wearing whatever colors they please. Just like you.” “Oh,” spoke Marvelous Man, “So should we go down there to talk to her?” Gene crossed his arms, “There is no need. I believe she has found us, because she is now amused.” His rabbit ears twitched. “She is now within the building,” said the bunny demigod. Hearing the stairs creak, Marvelous Man turned his attention to the doorway. The echo of footsteps slowly drew closer. Seconds later, Octomentist appeared in the hallway right outside of the room’s entrance. Octomentist smiled, “Hey there, Naked Justice. Didn’t think I’d see you so soon. How’s my sidekick doin?” “Umm, doin alright. What’re you doing here?” asked Marvelous Man. Octomentist answered, “Saw you passing by. Thought I’d track you down, since I didn’t have anything better to do. Saw you upstairs with my visor’s thermal vision. Though I didn’t think you’d end up here in the ghetto. Congratulations on getting picked up by the D.A.B., by the way.” Marvelous Man was confused by Octomentist’s remark. He was not sure how she already knew. A second went by until his mind finally comprehended that his communicator patch gave away a context clue. “Oh. Thanks. Uh, this is Gene. And we were trying to find a guy that’s hiding out in that abandoned subway down there,” pointed Marvelous Man. Gene cutted in, “I believe this is one of the situations that we must exercise discretion, Marvelous Man. It would not be wise to divulge any more information regarding the mission.” “It’s cool. I think I’ll just tag along anyways. Or I could just charge right down there while screaming my head off. I’m sure he won’t notice me,” grinned Octomentist. Faraiza’s voice ringed in Gene Lightfoot and Marvelous Man’s head before they could say anything. She stated, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find any other alternate entrances inside. You’re going to have to proceed through the front. But before you go, there’s something else I need to ask of you two. I’m sending a picture to your scrolls.” “Marvelous Man could you open your scroll?” asked Gene. Marvelous Man nodded, “Sure.” Reaching into his pocket, Marvelous Man retrieved his electronic scroll and silver-rimmed visor glasses that looked exactly like the Director’s. However, the electronic scroll Faraiza gave him was completely different from Director Skye’s scroll. Instead of resembling an extravagant Torah, its features were more like an oval-shaped object. “You don’t need the glasses. This information isn’t private. Besides, it’d be good to let your third party know about this. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody about her involvement,” echoed Faraiza. After nodding and placing the glasses back into his bottomless pockets, Marvelous Man proceeded with opening his scroll. He pressed the button on the top side of his oval scroll to unlock its features with a small click. Gently pulling at its sides, the scroll’s outer shell broke apart to reveal a transparent plastic sheet. It glowed with a hushed light of blue and white. Octomentist grinned, “Oh, hey! Those are the mobile alpha prototypes the Arkos Division sent out to the other hero organizations to try out before it’s released for retail. Glad to see it being put to use.” Marvelous Man ignored Octomentist’s statement and continued. Flipping open the panels on the scroll’s sides, he pressed the buttons hidden underneath to move the scroll’s digital cursor. He then selected the messages icon and found his first new message. Opening it, he found a headshot picture of a caucasian man with messy brown hair. Marvelous Man then heard Faraiza’s voice echo in his head. “That’s Martin Whalsh. He’s supposedly the leader of that community. Try to save him first. If you do, he can really help us out for future investigations or make it easier to move the homeless somewhere else,” said Faraiza. Gene replied back telepathically, “We will do our best, Faraiza.” “Why are you guys just staring at the screen? And who’s that?” spoke Octomentist. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The three heroes stood steps away from the subway entrance. A gust of wind blew from within; moaning to forbode them from entering. The sunlight that was able to poke through the opening revealed stairs that paved downward into unknown darkness. Gene stated, “I will go forth and do the ‘inside sweep’. Faraiza and I will alert you on whether it is safe to proceed or if something is amiss.” His form began to shrink, as he shapeshifted into a snow-white rabbit. The bunny demigod’s animal shape twitched its nose for a moment before bounding into the entrance and hopping down the stairs' descend into the black abyss. “Huh, the files weren’t kidding. He really can shapeshift into a bunny,” remarked Octomentist, “By the way, it sucks that you got a Rank D. A little bit of downtime with this company, and you’ll get C Rank in no time.” “Thanks,” nodded Marvelous Man. A bloodcurdling scream ringed in Marvelous Man’s head. It sounded similar to Gene Lightfoot’s but as if he were in unimaginable pain. Faraiza’s voice interrupted the telepathic transmission. She spoke urgently, “Marvelous Man, you need to get down there! Something has traumatized Gene, but I’m not sure what!” Marvelous Man turned to Octomentist with wide eyes. “Something went wrong,” he said. Placing his hand on Octomentist’s shoulders, Marvelous Man commanded the light within him to illuminate himself and his friend. The two charged forth with Marvelous Man in the lead. As they entered, Marvelous Man punched the boarded planks on the top half of the subway’s entrance; splintering it in half and leaving enough room for the shining hero to dash through without ducking. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Faraizah guided the pair as to where Gene was located. After treading down the steps and crossing over the train tracks in the pitch blackness, they found a large clearing with blanket tents and houses made of cardboard and tin sheets built against the walls. They spotted Gene in his humanoid form; laying in the center in a fetal position. Marvelous Man shouted, “Gene!” He ran towards the fallen hero and placed a hand on his back. Marvelous Man’s light analyzed Lightfoot’s body but found no physical wounds to heal. Marvelous Man crouched down to get a better look at Gene and noticed a small puddle of vomit next to the bunny demigod. “There is so much pain here. So much horror. Fear. Despair. All of those people...gone,” murmured Gene. The bunny demigod looked up at Marvelous Man. His face was wet with tears, and his eyes were nearly clouded with catatonia. Marvelous Man could feel Gene emitting his own feelings of sorrow. He then realized if the broadcasting of Gene’s emotions were to continue, it could affect the team’s ability to fight. They were in no place to take their time to talk about their feelings. Marvelous Man needed to temporarily override the bunny demigod’s feelings and quickly asked himself what he could do. He could hit Gene with a slap or light punch. That always seemed to work in movies and anime. But that did not feel like the right approach for Marvelous Man to do, and Gene could react with even more negativity. If he were an empath like Gene, he could have injected positivity into Gene to balance him out...but he actually could do that in theory. As Marvelous Man closed his eyes and reached into his black jacket’s pocket, Octomentist walked past the two kneeling heroes. An object sparkling from Marvelous Man’s light sat on the ground by its lonesome. She scooped it up, while Marvelous Man pulled out his golden harmonica, Duskbell, and started playing it. Octomentist turned to music playing with her mouth pursed to exclaim. Her shouting came to an abrupt halt, as she saw Marvelous Man. Marvelous Man blew his golden harmonica with minstrel skill and jammed to an upbeat tempo. His light fed on the music and became supercharged. It obeyed Marvelous Man’s commands and began to extend itself. Bursting from the floor Marvelous Man was kneeling on, it enveloped Gene Lightfoot and dispersed to the rest of the ground. Upon sensing Gene’s sorrow to quell, Marvelous Man ceased the playing of Duskbell. He opened his eyes and spotted Octomentist; holding one of Gene’s silver spheres. He asked, “Where did you find that?” “Right here,” said Octomentist. She paused for a moment, as she looked about her surroundings. Octomentist hesitated, “Is that...blood?” It was Marvelous Man’s turn to observe the area. Before illuminating the area, the light shining off of him and Octomentist lit their line of sight only steps ahead in the vast darkness. This caused tunnel vision upon spotting the emotionally disturbed Gene. Now that everything around them was revealed and nothing to distract Marvelous Man, he could see everything. Blood. The dark red liquid splattered everywhere; from the walls to the makeshift homes and even the ground. It were as if a giant blood-filled balloon exploded everywhere or some sort of horror film setting. The scent of iron flooded Marvelous Man’s senses, and despair filled his stomach. With no visual contact of the homeless community, the blood, and the silver ball, a connection was made. Marvelous Man immediately placed his hand on the D.A.B. jacket patch. “Faraiza, I think we’ve been set up!” he telepathically exclaimed. Faraiza choked, “I see it. Oh my gosh...there’s so much blood. If Gene’s ball is here, then where’s the Skeleton Lord? Did he know we were tracking him?” Gene slowly began to stand up. His posture no longer exhibited that of a deterred person. The bunny demigod joined the telepathic conversation. “I am sorry, Faraiza. I sense that they are all dead,” he said. Octomentist muttered, “This is all kinds of fucked up.” A soft patter echoed in the opening behind Octomentist. However, everyone was too engrossed in the gore decor to notice. “So this is how you all survived my onslaught of the undead. The star child’s odd ocarina can enchant the field with daylight, as well as yourselves,” noted the Skeleton Lord’s voice. Octomentist turned around to face the Skeleton Lord, as she took a step away from him. The Skeleton Lord, garbed in his red cloak and the equine skull resting on his head, continued to proceed forward. Gene Lightfoot slid his hand into his utility belt’s pouch of silver spheres. The Skeleton Lord calmly spoke, “I had a feeling that silver marble had a tracking spell on it. It appears I was correct. If I were wrong, well, then I would have enough time to absorb the fleshes of this gypsy caravan. Sadly, I was only able to absorb their fear and blood. But I must admit, it became a bit messy on that last part.” The Skeleton Lord’s red cloak billowed as the insides rustled. His arms extended from the curtain with an object in its grasp. It was the decapitated head of Martin Whalsh; the leader of the subway homeless community. “And killing this fellow first made the fear flow right out of them. I assume it was because he is their chief and also because I killed him,” he said on a tangent. Octomentist leapt forward. Pivoting her waist to pronounce a stronger strike, she whips her golden arm towards the Skeleton Lord. Her golden left arm changed its shape; transforming into a golden machete. Four skeleton arms bursted from within his red cloak. Their white, bony hands caught the golden blade above the Skeleton Lord’s shoulder; right before the weapon could reach the neck. The golden machete shook from Octomentist trying to muscle through the gentle, skeletal grasps. Without even flinching from the murderous attempt, the Skeleton Lord slowly turned his attention to the blade for a moment. The Skeleton Lord changed his gaze to Octomentist, “Hm, a monk with killing intent. Or perhaps you are one of those mystic knights?” Octomentist did not answer but immediately reacted. Two of her right chrome arms placed their inner sides on top of one another. Palms flexing out, the chrome arms were tucked close to her side and aimed at the Skeleton Lord. A stream of water as powerful as a fireman’s hose jetted out of the palms. It sparkled with a layer of electricity coursing through. The electrified aqua punctured through the Skeleton Lord’s abdomen; soaking and billowing the back of his red cloak. The Skeleton Lord convulsed from the electrical currents spreading throughout his entire body. His hands lost their grip on the decapitated head and causing it to land with a soft plop. As the Skeleton Lord began to teeter towards the ground, Gene withdrew a silver ball from his pouch and threw it faster than a professional baseball pitcher. It whistled through the air, as it was aimed towards the stunned Skeleton Lord. The adrenaline pumping throughout Marvelous Man allowed time to slow down for just a moment to see the sphere about to bore into the Skeleton Lord’s hooded forehead with only a pen’s length between the two. A tendril of bone shot out from beneath the Skeleton Lord’s cloak. As it stabbed into the ground, it caused the Skeleton Lord to rocket into the air. Gene’s silver sphere completely missed piercing the Skeleton Lord’s head before the sudden velocity. The Skeleton Lord’s body hung limply high above the other heroes with the bone tendril continuing to extend and thicken from under the red cloak. Three more bone tendrils stretched out from behind the red clothing; rooting into the ceiling to stabilize the first tendril’s balance. The Skeleton Lord looked as if it were a daddy-long-leg spider that was short of four bony legs. “Lightning enchanted water? Well, that is a first,” remarked the Skeleton Lord. Grabbing his golden wreath, Marvelous Man threw his projectile. It whizzed like a buzzsaw; flying up towards the Skeleton Lord. The spider-like bone legs pulled the Skeleton Lord higher up towards the ceiling, as the golden wreath was about to reach the Skeleton Lord and saw through. Missing its target, the wreath returned to Marvelous Man, while the bone legs began to shift. The spider bone legs crawled across the ceiling with the Skeleton Lord gently swaying beneath. His bony appendages made its way to the other side of the room behind Marvelous Man and Gene. As he was lowered to the ground in front of entrance, the Skeleton Lord clapped. The Skeleton Lord cackled, “Well, go on then. Entertain me! Show me things the warriors of the past have not already done!” Surging forward, Marvelous Man bounded towards the Skeleton Lord with Gene following behind him in rabbit form. The shining hero activated his flight power and twisted himself in a counterclockwise motion. He completed two rotations before aiming a slamming right elbow at the Skeleton Lord’s face. A skeletal arm extended from underneath the Skeleton Lord’s cloak. It caught the powerful elbow without even wincing. The sudden stop of the muscular man’s deadly gymnastics cause the wind trailing with his huge body to billow the Skeleton Lord’s red cloak. As Marvelous Man was held in place, the white rabbit bounded underneath his musclebound frame. Gene arrived at the feet of the Skeleton Lord and transformed. As he shapeshifted back into his humanoid form, Gene Lightfoot rose up into the air while executing a spinning uppercut. His fist connected with the underside of the Skeleton Lord’s pale, white jaw. The brittle sound of bone popping and cracking emanated from the blow to the Skeleton Lord. As Gene continued ascending above, the Skeleton Lord’s head flung back from the blow. His body nearly recoiled, but his spider bone legs dug into the floor and walls to stabilize himself. The skeleton arm released its grasp on Marvelous Man’s elbow before immediately clasping onto the bunny demigod’s left shoulder. Three more skeletal arms lashed out from beneath the red cloak. Clamping underneath Gene’s right shoulder and legs, they held the bunny demigod steadfast in midair with the limbs pulled into a spread eagle position. The Skeleton Lord reached out with his own pale-skinned hand and groped Gene’s crotch that dangled like plump blue fruit. His jaw shifted itself back into place with the sound of bone snapping itself together. “I have to say, lust energy has far more power in it than absorbing one’s fear. Still, it is quite difficult to...milk lust energy if one is not a Totochtin. But I have learned many ways to milk fear,” smiled the Skeleton Lord. Upon his elbow being released, Marvelous Man swiveled his brawny body in midair towards the Skeleton Lord’s left side in a clockwise motion. He launched his right fist in an overhand punch upon arriving next to the villain. Another skeleton arm rose from behind the Skeleton Lord’s red cloak. It appeared to be a right appendage that began to wave in a counterclockwise motion. As the top of its wrist briefly touched the golden encased underside of Marvelous Man’s, it reflexed immediately. The skeletal hand grabbed Marvelous Man’s jewelry-covered wrist and yanked it forward. At that moment, the trajectory of Marvelous Man’s punch was now under the control of the bony hand. Marvelous Man’s fist was guided downwards in front of the Skeleton Lord’s neck. The shining hero could see his fist completely missing the molesting villain that did not bother to even look in his direction. He had no time to move away in the instance he was pulled closer to the Skeleton Lord. Two more skeleton arms thrusted out from the cloak. Both had their bony hands curled into hard fists as they aimed at different areas of Marvelous Man’s body. The first struck the right side of the hero’s face. With the skeletal hand holding onto his wrist, he could not be flung back. He had no choice but to take the brunt of the punch as it twisted into his cheek. Marvelous Man felt his vision and hearing blur at the powerful blow. Though Marvelous Man had bulletproof skin, blunt and hard attacks could still hurt him without ever having to break the epidermis. The hero himself had discovered firsthand that the fist was both of those things. At the same time, the second bony fist pounded into Marvelous Man’s right side of his torso. The aim of this strike targeted below his ribs and impacted with a twist against Marvelous Man’s kidney. Pain instantly seared throughout his body at the same moment his face got pummeled. The skeletal fist that punched the hero’s face then snaked over Marvelous Man’s muscular punching arm. It cupped Marvelous Man’s armpit and lifted with a small amount of force, while the hand holding the bracelet-covered wrist pulled it in towards the Skeleton Lord. This action locked the extended arm in place, as it caused hyperextension to counter any resistance from Marvelous Man. Were it not for the pulverizing strikes to his face and kidney, he would have screamed at feeling his arm reaching the point of breaking in his elbow. Seeing her teammates already subdued by the Skeleton Lord as Octomentist sprinted towards them, she pressed one of her right chrome hands on her chest. It began to emit a dark aura and manipulate her gravity to weightlessness. Octomentist dove forward before the antigravity took complete effect over her body. Upon complete hovering with no force to ground her, Octomentist aimed another cybernetic right arm behind her. The arm’s ability activated a burst of air pressure steaming out of her palm and increasing her flight speed. The multi-armed heroine positioned her arm to keep herself low enough to be close to the ground without any accidental contact. Octomentist maneuvered herself to zip past the Skeleton Lord on his right side while shapeshifting her golden arm into a pickaxe. The Skeleton Lord took no action to what appeared to be some sort of confused retreat, as she flew through the entrance the heroes came through. Once past, she immediately swung her golden pickaxe arm into the cemented ground; piercing into it with ease. The stem of the pickaxe began to extend itself, as it thinned from increasing length like a rubber band. The torrent of air coming from her other chrome hand ceased, and Octomentist’s flight came to a slow with her golden arm acting as an anchor. She then lifted her gravity-manipulating arm from her chest; releasing her from weightless and gently rolling onto the ground. After a few tumbles and her golden arm shifting back into its original form, Octomentist stood up with urgency. The right chrome limbs that emitted water and electricity combined once again. Octomentist quickly took aim at the Skeleton Lord’s back and fired a streaming torrent of electrified water. The charged current splashed into the cloak’s wet spot where Octomentist’s first shot could not pierce through. The stream failed to break open the Skeleton Lord’s red cloak but managed to split into smaller electrified drops when penetrating the fabric. The villain convulsed, and his body became limp. The skeletal arms that held the other heroes in undignified poses released their grasps, as the spider-like bone legs started to crawl up the ceiling with the Skeleton Lord in tow. Octomentist ceased her attack the moment she saw the Skeleton Lord move upwards. The eight-armed hero ran to Gene Lightfoot and Marvelous Man in an attempt to assist them. “How annoying,” mused the Skeleton Lord, “Would you like to know how I wringed every last drop of fear out of those gypsies?” He continued, “You never torture the old in front of the others. They already know death is coming for them. No, you start with the young. Their terror increases the others’ maternal fears by tenfold. And a whole lot of children to torture creates so much fear for me to absorb. Unfortunately, this caravan only had a baby. Well...one makes do with what they have.” As the Skeleton Lord continued to chat and cackle, Marvelous Man gave his stretched arm a few shakes before squatting down like a sumo wrestler. He placed his fists on the ground and raised his hard, round glutes high into the air. Marvelous Man slowly inhaled through his nose as he concentrated his leg muscles to soak up as much kinetic force as it could provide before liftoff. He relaxed his arms and focused the direction he would be flying towards. With his legs to provide the lift, he would straighten his arms at the last second to adjust his angle. Marvelous Man felt his chest and stomach expand to its fullest with all the air it could take and knew it was time to unleash the collected potential within his powerful calves and thunderous thighs. His thighs and biceps flexed; veins and muscular cords bulged and outlined against his skin. The cement underneath his feet cracked. With the force within his arms and legs unleashed, Marvelous Man rocketed forward; leaving behind a shallow crater indented with his own footprints and fistprints. The glowing, musclebound body shot up like a shimmering firework before its timed explosion. Marvelous Man’s aim held true, as he soared towards the Skeleton Lord. Activating his flight power, the shining hero tucked himself into a ball as tight as he could and began to vertically rotate. Marvelous Man stuck his right leg straight out, while his spinning gained more speed. Becoming a buzzsaw-like blur like his own golden wreath, Marvelous Man continued to whirl closer to the Skeleton Lord. The villain saw the spinning hero for only a second before he zipped above the Skeleton Lord between rotations. Marvelous Man’s aim and timing held true; he was right where he wanted to be . The muscular hero completed his cycle and slammed his heel into the Skeleton Lord’s back. The force of the heel drop kick jerked the Skeleton Lord downward. His spider-like bone legs could not handle the sudden direction his body went and immediately snapped off. As the Skeleton Lord fell with great velocity, Marvelous Man’s homing attack propelled himself further up. Right when Marvelous Man successfully attacked the Skeleton Lord’s back, he straightened his body and twirled himself upside down. His black boots were to the first to land on the ceiling and absorb the powerful impact resulting from his super jump and kick. The concrete top chipped and rippled with cracks that traveled to the edge of the ceiling. From the ground perspective of where Gene and Octomentist stood, it looked as if Marvelous Man had sprouted stone angel wings. Marvelous Man’s muscular body crouched against the fissured ceiling, as he spotted the Skeleton Lord plummeting into the blood-stained floor. The ground shattered underneath the villain with a plume of dust and debris flying up from the hole. With the smoke now obfuscating the Skeleton Lord’s body, Marvelous Man decided to not take any chances. His thighs flexed with visible veins on the skin; fighting against the sudden kinetic force that would have pinned him there for a few seconds. He activated his flight powers again and pushed off the concrete dome. In midair, Marvelous Man performed a forward flip to readjust himself. He clasped his knees together as tight as he possibly could and directed them down at the hole the Skeleton Lord resided in. Through the crashing descend in the smoke, Marvelous Man looked like a bright meteor entering the Earth’s atmosphere. The brawny superhero blasted into Skeleton Lord’s crater; resulting in a thunderous boom. A small gust of wind and dust brushed against the other two superhero spectators as more smoke rose into the air. Seconds past after pebble-sized cement pieces finished scattering into the air and clattered back onto the floor. There was no sign of movement from the man-made hole. “Marvelous Man?” called Gene. Faraiza’s voice echoed in Lightfoot’s head, “He’s alright, Gene. I can see him slowly getting up, but he’s a bit too shaky to keep himself steady.” “Much gratitude, Faraiza,” said Gene. The bunny demigod ran to the deep crater that was beginning to clear of smoky debris. He spotted Marvelous Man struggling to stand as his legs were wobbling like a newborn deer. Gene held his hand out, “Here, let me aid you.” “Thanks. I landed really hard on my legs. I’m kinda surprised they’re not broken” coughed Marvelous Man. Accepting the assistance, the white-eared hero pulled Marvelous Man out of the hole. Gene could see Marvelous Man was still having trouble standing up, as Marvelous Man’s bulging legs were still shaking. The bunny demigod scooped up his D.A.B. partner with gentle ease and held him in a bridal carry fashion. He carried his partner back to Octomentist without any trouble. Marvelous Man’s body weight was no match for Gene’s super strength. “Gotta say, that was a sick move you pulled there, Naked Justice,” remarked Octomentist Hey, wait! Can’t you fly?” Marvelous Man’s eyes widened, “Oh...right. Sorry, brain is a bit mushy from all that G-force.” Faraiza’s voice interrupted Gene and Marvelous Man’s thoughts. “I’m sorry for breaking up the good feelings and all, but just what were you all fighting? I couldn’t see the voice that was talking to you, and I have a visual of everything in this room. Something was damaging this room, but it was completely invisible to me,” she said. Gene projected his thoughts his D.A.B. teammates, “The emotions and aura of the Skeleton Lord are invisible to me as well. I fear this person has the ability or magic to mask his presence. Only the naked eye can perceive the Skeleton Lord.” The white rabbit ears on Gene’s head twitched. He turned his attention back to the Skeleton Lord’s hole while carrying Marvelous Man. “What’s wrong?” Marvelous Man asked aloud. Gene frowned, “If I were to give the guess, I would surmise that the Skeleton Lord is putting himself back together again.” “Oh my fucking gosh, when will this Humpty Dumpty son of a bitch stay broken?!” exclaimed Octomentist. The sound of bones shifting and cracking into place emanated from the small pit. It was a soft echo that began to increase in volume, as a shambling silhouette rose from the hole. Though dusty, it was undoubtedly the red robe of the Skeleton Lord with the hood being distended by the equine skull headgear. “Cursed wretch,” spoke the Skeleton Lord, “To arms, my guardians!” With his bone structure reformed, the villain stood straight up. Eight skeleton arms stretched from the red cloak; brandished with a weapon in each hand. The top two hands held a bow and arrow. The pair underneath the long-range weapon was a circular war shield welded with bumps and intricate designs, and a sword with a hook-shaped blade that Marvelous Man recognized as a scythe sword. Below the sword and shield wielders were short-handed axes, etched with runes, held in each hand. The last set of hands held a glaive polearm; its black blade decorated with silver white bell-shaped heather flowers that formed into a hook on the blade’s back. Marvelous Man activated his flight power and floated from Gene’s arms. He positioned himself standing straight and gave his legs a shake while hovering. While his legs felt like useless limbs filled with pins and needles, the rest of body felt twitchy and unstable. He would need a few minutes to recover and be at full strength after pushing his body to the limit twice with no intervals between those wall-cracking bursts. But Marvelous Man knew he had no time for breaks before round two with the Skeleton Lord began. “My body is too noodley to hit him hard like that again,” he frowned. Gene nodded, “That is fine. I request that you stay in the air. I will need your assistance with the air support. Please catch me and throw me back at the Skeleton Lord. The use of your wreath will also be appreciated. I will lead the attack. Octomentist, if you please, try to counter his attacks, to create the opportunity for me.” The bunny demigod pulled his right arm over his chest to stretch his shoulder muscle before switching to the other arm. He continued stretching his muscles as the other hero spoke to him. “Alright. But I’m out of water, so I can’t do the electrified water attack that’s been stunning him. And I’m running low on electricity with my Lightning Arm,” nodded Octomentist. Gene gently smiled, “We will manage with what we have. Marvelous Man, please begin the first attack.” Obeying Gene’s command, Marvelous Man threw his golden wreath at the Skeleton Lord. The bunny demigod dashed forward upon seeing the projectile with Octomentist and Marvelous Man following his lead. Gene placed a hand in the silver ball pouch on his utility belt. A rune glowed on his blue fingerless glove, as he swirled his index and middle finger within the pouch. The silver balls within the blue pouch reacted to Gene’s finger motions and the glowing rune. Right when a sphere was plucked by Gene’s fingers, another ball shapeshifted into a long, silver cord and linked itself to the chosen weapon. The cord then connected to two other orbs to form a bolas projectile. Gene pulled out the silver bolas from his pouch and began rotating the other two weights over his head. The bunny demigod kept his eyes targeted at the skeleton arms equipped with the bow and arrow. The archer arms had the arrow nocked on the white bowstring and its obsidian arrowhead aimed at Gene. As the arrow was being drawn back, Gene released his silver bolas. The projectile spun through the air and shimmered from Marvelous Man imbuing the ground with light. Accompanying in front of the silver bolas was Marvelous Man’s golden wreath; flying at a much lower angle that could decapitate the Skeleton Lord. The shield-wielding skeleton hand lowered its equipment in front of the Skeleton Lord’s face to block the incoming attacks. The golden wreath that aimed for the villain’s neck bounced off the shield and changed its course; boomeranging back to Marvelous Man. The shield ignored the silver bolas, as its trajectory would miss any harming intent towards the Skeleton Lord. Slinging over the shield, the bolas’ silver cords caught itself on the skeletal forearms of the archer arms. The spherical weights of the bolas wrapped around the forearms; tightening and tangling the cords to prevent any easy escape. The gap between the arm holding the bow and the other drawing the arrow was slammed shut. Smoke started to emanate from the binded bones as the arms exposed to the silver bubbled and sizzled. Gene dug his hand back into his silver sphere pouch and grasped a handful. With an underhand throw, the balls spread in different directions within a cone arc at the Skeleton Lord. The shield wielder held its ground; propped in front of the Skeleton Lord’s face. As for the other skeleton limbs that were not bound, they seemed to understand the poisonous touch of Gene’s silver and withdrew inside the villain’s red cloak. The silver balls pelted against the shield and cloak with the force of a shotgun blast. While the ones that pummeled against the cloak and rolled away after dealing internal damage, the rest that bombarded the shield lodged into it with large impact dents. As the distance between the charging Gene and the defending Skeleton Lord thinned for close combat, the bunny demigod lept. He planted his hands atop the dented shield’s rim and pulled himself up. Using it as gymnastic beam to leapfrog over, he split his legs open. Gene hoisted himself into the air with his spandex-covered crotch dangling in the wind. With quick reaction, the bunny demigod threw his arms up while sailing over the Skeleton Lord. Marvelous Man flew to Gene’s aid. Catching his partner’s hands, Marvelous Man carried him over to the other side of the room. The musclebound hero twirled upon approaching the wall. Halfway into his rotation, Marvelous Man’s bulky body graced his direction and tossed Gene in an underhanded motion. Gene’s nimble body gained brief altitude before gravity began pulling him down towards the Skeleton Lord. The villain turned to face Gene, as the rabbit hero notice movement billowing underneath the Skeleton Lord’s red cloak. A tip of a black blade peaked out from the robe. Seeing the ornamental glaive being speared towards him, Gene Lightfoot grinned. He shapeshifted into a snow-white rabbit right when the glaive was only a second away from impaling him. The black blade of the polearm completely missed Gene, as he gracefully landed on top of the blade’s flower bell-shaped hook. Continuing his motion, rabbit Gene hopped down to the pole part of the weapon. The white rabbit transformed back into Gene’s humanoid form. As his body landed on the pole, he hooked an arm and leg of his around it. The bunny demigod contorted his body; twisting down the glaive’s staff with the grace of a professional pole dancer. While completing his first revolution around the pole, Gene kicked underneath the shield. The defense-wielding arm flung back from the powerful attack; leaving the Skeleton Lord’s head unguarded. Upon Gene’s second revolution, he gripped the staff with both his hands and flung his legs open in a wide barrage. Both of his blue boots concussed the side of the Skeleton Lord’s head; causing the villain to become momentarily dizzy. As for the third revolution, Gene turned his body inwards towards the pole. He tucked in his legs before immediately ejecting them out and thrusting it into the Skeleton Lord’s solar plexus. The sudden propulsion inflicted upon the villain cause the skeletal hands to lose their grip on the glaive. A soft crack emanated from the binded skeleton archer hands. The shaking from the Skeleton Lord caused the weakened archer hands to snap at the point where the silver bolas tied and dissolved them. The Skeleton Lord stumbled back, while Gene landed on his feet with the decorative glaive in his hands. Four skeleton legs stretched beneath the villain’s robe; lifting their master to prevent his fall. Balance restored, the Skeleton Lord cursed. “Cursed wretch,” he muttered. Gene spear-chucked the glaive at the Skeleton Lord. As it sailed through the air, its staff end began to dissipate into black smoke. The shield wielder intervened and swatted at the glaive with its dented shield. The polearm weapon spun into the air, as it completely evaporated into black soot. The Skeleton Lord’s red cloak fluttered, as the pair of skeletal hands armed with short-handed axes presented themselves again. The two skeleton hands clanged their axes together as if signaling their own war cry. As the blades reverberated against each other, the runes etched on the handles began to glow a soft blue light. Electricity emanated from the runes and wildly coursed through the axes; zapping multiple, short bursts in every direction like a plasma lamp with lightning. The quadruped skeleton legs charged; pairing with each other to form their own synchronized left and right legs. As the Skeleton Lord stampeded towards the heroes, the axe-wielding hands twirled their weapons. With Gene in chopping distance, the left bony hand swung its axe in an overhand motion. The electricity from the axe crackled the air as it drew closer to Gene’s neck. Octomentist stepped in front of her teammate. She lifted one of her right chrome arms; her wrist limped and relaxed. The top of her chrome wrist made contact with the underside of the attacking skeletal arm’s wrist. All of the wild lightning that raged from the axe now harmlessly coursed into her Lightning Arm. At the same time, one of Octomentists left chrome arms vibrated with ferocity as she swung it upward in a karate chopping motion. The attacking arm sawed through the skeletal forearm without any resistance. Octomentist twisted her body; her back facing the Skeleton Lord. She reached out with her Lightning Arm in a preemptive attempt to intercept the other axe-wielding arm. As predicted, the other skeleton arm swung its electrified axe at her. Octomentist’s Lightning Arm caught the attacker by the wrist and absorbed the electricity sprouting from the axe. Her feet slid about to reposition herself to face her attacker, while the hand of her Lightning Arm briefly relinquished their grip to snake underneath the bony wrist. After completing its slide underneath the skeletal wrist, the chrome hand reestablished their grip on the other side of the wrist. Octomentist yanked the axe-wielding arm, as her vibrating, left chrome arm thrusted forward in a palm strike. The skeleton arm shattered into bits from the vibrating attack. “Kyaa!” exclaimed Octomentist, “Thanks for the recharge!” The shield-wielding hand’s partner, the scythe sword, thrusted up from the red cloak as though it was proclaiming its reappearance. In the same moment of striking itself in the air, the bony hand brought down its scythe sword with slicing intent. Sliding her left leg back, Octomentist brought her gravity-negating arm up to block the the scythe sword’s blade. Her hand limply hanged, as the arm itself instantly generated its dark aura. The scythe sword descended upon the chrome arm. At the point of contact with the arm’s dark aura, the blade silently bounced. The sword never got past the anti-gravity field to clang with the arm. Instead, it reacted like magnets with identical charges. The skeletal arm of the scythe sword flung back with its weapon as if it were hit with a whiplashing force. With her defense successful, Octomentist twirled away from the Skeleton Lord. At the same time, a whirring noise echoed. While the scythe sword wielder struggled to regain control of itself, Marvelous Man’s golden wreath approached from behind the skeleton arm. It sliced through with no effort; the action similar to a saw blade cutting through cheap wood. The scythe sword and the skeletal hand wielding it clattered onto the concrete floor. The wreath curved around the shield wielder, as it made its return back to Marvelous Man floating unnoticingly in the background. Among the confrontation with Gene Lightfoot and Octomentist, the Skeleton Lord and his guardians took no notice of Marvelous Man’s whereabouts. The Skeleton Lord literally disarmed of offensive weaponry, Gene lunged forward and grabbed the villain’s red cloak. The bunny demigod lifted the cloaked man and pivoted his waist. The cloak itself seemed to be bonded to the Skeleton Lord, as the evil man was yanked into Gene’s twisting vortex. Gene’s body rotated with the red robe billowing. Upon completing his three-sixty spin, the rabbit hero threw the Skeleton Lord across the room with all his might. The super strength from Gene caused the Skeleton Lord to fly too fast for him to be able to process a counter maneuver. In the one second of flight before colliding into the wall, the Skeleton Lord looked like a badminton birdie. The Skeleton Lord impacted against the wall with a thunderous slam. Though the concrete wall cracked with bits flying off, its layers were deep enough to handle the shock rather than be instantaneously obliterated. The Skeleton Lord was in a huddled mass devoid of humanoid shapes within the wall’s newly created shallow crater. All four of the skeleton legs and the shield wielder that were attached to the Skeleton Lord now crumbled from all the force. Gene’s bunny ears twitched, “Impossible...” Bones cracking and snapping together and flesh squelching resounded from the Skeleton Lord’s prolapsed body within the red cloak. The cloak undulated with its contents poking and prodding the fabric, before the cloak fell from its crater from all the movement. It landed on the ground with a stifled splat. Black ooze leaked onto the glowing floor until it sizzled and immediately evaporated seconds after contact with the light. “What the hell is keeping him alive?” said Octomentist. The sound of cracking and squelching continued, as the robe slowly rose up. Shape within was rapidly taking form of something more humanoid. The heroes could only gape in horror at how undead this monster truly was. Marvelous Man knew he had to move, but he felt paralyzed at watching the abhorrent display. The nauseating sounds finally ceased as the Skeleton Lord’s form was now restored. Marvelous Man flew back to Gene’s position; hovering next to his partner. “Totochtin. Star child. Heroes. At first, I thought of you as a fun distraction,” spoke the Skeleton Lord, “But I now see that much has changed since I have been sealed.” A wail of an unknown beast emanated from the Skeleton Lord’s entrance next to the villain. Heavy thumpings can be heard; increasing in volume as it drew closer to the entry way the Skeleton Lord used. The Skeleton Lord resumed, “Ah, it appears my creation is nearly complete. I made this amalgam when I realized my absorption of the gypsy caravan’s flesh was to be interrupted. The process of formation would be slow, so my whole intention was to distract you. But allow me to dispose some wisdom for you three. You should mind the gas it belches. It is quite toxic.” The Skeleton Lord turned to his entrance. He paused for a moment. “When we meet again, Totochtin, I will ask you a very important question. One that can save your race should your reply be yes or doom their fate to be with the rest of the lower beings I will extinguish,” he said. Marvelous Man shouted, “Wait! Why are you doing all this? What’s the point of doing all these terrible things?!” The Skeleton Lord stood there silently. His form ebbed away to invisibility in seconds. The Skeleton’s voice echoed the clearing with an emotionless tone: “When one has the power of a god and their purpose has turned to ash, the only thing one can do is burn the world itself.” Next Chapter
  15. Marvelous Man - Chapter 7

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1I5XrV7wcuO9hhzVcqM3M8BnykDhi56XbVNxjdy1aD_4) 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/ First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Chapter 7: Haute Couture A silver key attached to a cherry-topped ice cream sundae keychain dangled between Justice’s fingers. It gleamed in Justice’s eye; echoing temptation. This was the key that allowed Justice to be free of his cage, but now it seemed to serve the purpose of letting him back in. So much had occurred in one day. His parents revealed that his hometown has always been fake, and the only reason for being created was to become a superhero that entertained his parents. He failed to capture a supervillain more than once, as well as being humiliated. And he had also experienced terror; a possibility that he could die and helpless to assist others. It was a lot to process. At least back in that fake world, it was safe and predictable. He wondered if he had decided to use the key to go back to his gilded cage, would he ever come back out? His thoughts then wandered back to last night when he met that bunny boy, Gene Lightfoot. He was strong and had lots of willpower. There was also a hint of carnal gluttony, but thinking about that part started to make Justice blush. And then there was the part where Gene invited him to the D.A.B. headquarters to file a report to help support Gene’s claims and shed some extra light on what had transpired. Thinking further back, there was also Sugar Skull; a perverted ghoul that was interesting to converse with. And then there was Octomentist. She was from the science-themed hero organization and was tough, but she meant well. Realization dawned on Justice. Yesterday was the first time he was able to interact with anybody without having to stick to a script. He could talk about anything without causing people to malfunction. His circle of friends no longer had to be his parents. There was so much risk in the real world, but it was all worth it to be able to socialize with other people and express himself however he wants. He also needed to get their personal phone number, if he wanted to continue talking to them. Filled with the inspiration to get outside, Justice decided to get out of bed. His muscular body of overbound proportions wrestled the golden sheets off his naked body. The silk sheets that grazed against his milk chocolate skin felt very pleasurable; combined with his king-sized memory foam mattress, it was like resting on a cloud that stimulated Justice to desire masturbation. The feeling was further increased when his long, meaty tip and full sack brushed against his euphoric bed sheets. His meatus then began to fill with the inspiration to release and erected itself into a hardened form. Justice cupped his hairless purse, full of his plum-sized sexual fruits, with one hand before dragging his fingertips over the crevice of his inner thigh, across his cobblestone abdomen, and then fiercely groping his sight-obscuring pectoral meat. His hips slowly gyrated against the golden silk, as he licked his lower lips and lightly bit them; a low moan escaping his lips in the process. As for the other hand, it gripped his erected dark chocolate bar; lazily pistoning until slithering away towards somewhere more enticing. It snaked down, passing underneath his pouched orbs of manliness, until reaching his pleasure hole. His fingers petted the hole’s moist rim; eliciting another low moan from himself. Without any resistance, a finger slid through the small gape and into his fleshy love tunnel. Then two. Then three. Each time his fingers effortlessly slipped in, Justice bucked and gasped sharply. Justice’s thoughts wandered to Gene and his encounter with him. The rabbit-eared demigod trapped in the Skeleton Lord’s dark magic that nearly brought him to orgasm. Without the circumstance of being in danger, it was quite sexy to dwell on that image. Justice remembered Gene’s body quiver from pleasure, and then he thought about Gene using his strength to dominate Justice himself. For as long as he could remember, Justice always felt an attraction to strong men. While it was fun to use his own hands to play with himself, he enjoyed the assistance of sexual toys more. He made a mental notation to pick up some pleasure tools later on. Justice then wondered if Sugar Skull really did have a ghost jelly cock. The possibility of the ghoul possessing one seemed exotic and oddly erotic. Justice groaned with bliss, as his groping hand switched to and fro with his bulbous pecs and more fingers slipped into his stretched hole. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Stepping out of his room, Justice made his way down the hall. He felt relaxed as his mind was still swimming in the euphoric afterglow. Though that was slowly disappearing due to his hunger pangs. Justice’s stomach grumbled, as he wish he had some clothes to put on. The only thing he could find in his room, other than bed sheets and curtains, was the apartment complex’s complimentary fluffy bathrobe. Had Justice been an average-sized person, the robe would have fit perfectly. Instead, all Justice could manage to do was tie it into a makeshift Japanese loincloth in order to at least cover up his manhood. While the penthouse apartment was his new home, he was not about to strut around naked when one of his parents could have dropped by unannounced. Justice made another mental note to purchase some clothes before shopping for lube and dildos. As Justice passed through the main hall, he noticed a change in his surroundings. Most of the statues and artworks portraying his dad, Apollo, was replaced with statues and other artwork renders of Ares and Aphrodite. Justice figured Papa and his mom had a talk with Apollo and wanted to be included in the final design. He then spotted different weapons and photographs of happy moments with his family framed across the wall. Upon arrival into the kitchen, Justice saw a black garment bag draped on a dining chair and a greeting card on the wooden dining table. Nobody else but Justice appeared to be in his apartment. Most likely, his parents must have stopped by earlier to drop those items off, while he was asleep. He approached the table and picked up the card. The front of the card had a cartoon cat with its fur soaking wet and dripping water onto a blank floor. It did not look pleased at the slightest. The front card read, “Heard you didn’t have a great day.” Opening the card, it was the same cat, but it was covered in a blanket looking satisfied. The rest of the card read, “But it’ll get better with love and some R&R”. Underneath the text and cartoon was his parents’ signatures. Aphrodite’s font signature of “Mom” was basic with a cute, curvy shape to it. Ares’ “Papa” looked as if it were written by a first grader. Apollo’s signature was the biggest that took over half of the blank space; written with his own name in huge cursive letters with big and fancy loops. Even in writing, Justice’s dad wanted to stand out. Justice then noticed some scribbles from Papa written on the opposite side of the card’s cartoon and signatures. Ares wrote, “Left you a spare of my clothes. Apollo really wanted to buy you new clothes, but I insisted you were old enough to buy your own. Spared you from skinny jeans. You’re welcome.” Turning his attention to the garment bag, he unzipped it to find a hanger draped with a black wife-beater shirt and a khaki utilikilt. Justice did not mind wearing kilts, as it felt nice to have his family jewels and muscular thighs being cooled during hot weather. And other than being more flexible to move with it, he knew his masculine body complimented well with the garment. Though it was not as if he had any other choice; seeing as how his only other option was to walk around in the fluffy, pink fundoshi loincloth he was currently wearing. He did not feel like challenging the boundaries of public indecency laws. The overly muscular bodybuilder then became distracted by his hunger pangs becoming more noticeable. His stomach felt as if it were thumping like a gorilla beating its chest. Justice hoped his family stocked the cabinets and fridge with food as he wandered over to refrigerator. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Marvelous Man floated inside of a parking garage on the third floor; scanning the area around him for any passerby. Only parked vehicles and deadening silence were on the only things on that level. He then glided to a corner and placed his bracelets together. Marvelous Man chanted, “Marvelous Muscle Magic, Metamorph!” The area around the superhero became a spaceless vacuum, as his clothes exploded like confetti holograms. His naked musclebound body continued to float in the vacuum with the second phase of his detransformation about to begin. Spanking sounds echoed in the chamber with paints of black and creamy tan striking with wall paint strokes at the musclebound body from every angle. The black paint slapped his back and torso; causing his meaty pectorals to jiggle in the process. The creamy tan paint swatted the spherical glutes and tree-trunk thighs; making them bounce in every direction. The slapping and spanking started slow and gained speed with every passing second. Accelerating the whipping to a point where the noises were no longer separate and became too many to keep track of. The paint collecting on the milk chocolate skin began to form into clothing fibers. This process continued in the void until Justice’s kilt and black tank top became fully formed. The timeless vacuum around Justice collapsed as his bare feet landed on cool concrete. He shivered, “Why is everything I do a sex thing?!” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The automatic doors that led from the parking garage to the Barticle Troy Mall slid open as Justice walked through. It was researched on his smartphone that Barticle Troy Mall was the largest shopping district in Skyway City with the most clothing stores. A five floor paradise for shoppers, and the most likely to lose children at. Conveniently, they also had a store that catered to adult paraphernalia. Though Justice needed to go to the D.A.B., it was still an hour before noon, and he figured he had enough time to purchase his personal essentials. As Justice began to integrate into the mall’s main artery, he surveyed his surroundings. The interior was packed with stores side by side; stretching off into the distance that created the feeling of taking a lifetime to visit every store in the mega mall. What surprised Justice the most was the diversity of the patrons that his parents never mentioned. Though when one is told superheroes are real, it was to be expected that there would be a richness of racial variety. And when Justice was superheroing, he hardly gave the civilians any attention other than keeping them out of harm’s way. Amongst the many humans that shopped there, a splash of science fiction and fantasy existed in the fray. Robots, cyborgs, and even supernatural and mythological beings walked about gossiping with others, including humans, or getting lost in their cell phones. Some were dressed with modern clothes, while others were garbed in armor or loincloths or other articles of clothing that reflected their culture of origin or beliefs. One thing that seemed to never change was overweight security guards. “Get back here, you stupid toy!” shouted an electronic voice. Justice turned to a voice and saw an eastern red dragon made of paper the size of his fist fly over his head before a chrome-plated robot jumped into his view. The bipedal machine apparently leapt, because it began to tackle Justice. While the robot was not too heavy for the surprised man to handle, it was enough to upset his balance and send the bodybuilder to the ground. He grunted as the impact and the robot’s weight pushed the air out of his lungs. The electronic voice spoke out, “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?!” The voice seemed to originate from somebody that was nearly face to face with Justice. Justice looked about and observed that the only person close enough to say that was the robot that had no lips. In general, the chrome machine lacked a face. On the section where its mouth was supposed to be located, there was a colored pink ring, like a glow stick, that circulated around the head. As for the eyes, it appeared to have three microscope lenses that differed in size. All three were located on a single rotator in the center like a mythical Cyclops. The only other feature on the mechanical being’s head was its ears. It had rabbit-like ears that seemed to resemble Gene Lightfoot’s. Justice felt pressure on his chest and gazed downwards. On top of his pectoral mountains were the droid’s hands; digging into and groping his chest as a means of trying to sit itself up. Even though the robot’s hands were of an average adult human size, it was not enough to contain the pec meat that spilled between the digits and outside of its grasp. And while it was a pleasant feeling, it was neither the right time or place for such foreplay to occur. “I’m okay, but could you please stop groping me?” asked Justice. The robot looked down and noticed its hands molesting Justice’s watermelon-sized chest. The chrome droid let out an inaudible squeak and immediately released its grip. The ring’s pink color seemed to intensify as if it were some sort of mood ring. The robot apologized, “Sorry!” “And get off of me,” said Justice. The robot stood up, “Sorry.” Brushing himself off, Justice rose up and surveyed the rest of the chrome automaton. Not did it seem to have ears similar to Gene’s, its height and body type were also alike. If the two were in a dark setting and the robot’s mood ring turned off, Justice would have a hard time distinguishing the two. It also seemed to be wearing an odd combination of clothes consisting of a white drawstring fundoshi loincloth with its string tied into a bow, a hunter green utility belt, and brown flip flops. “Why did you tackle me?” questioned Justice. The robot’s mood ring’s color shifted to white. It sighed, “I was trying to catch the dragon toy that flew over you. It’s over sixty dollars, and constantly on back order. Made the mistake of activating its seal before tying a string to it.” Justice turned to where the toy would have flown off to. “Don’t bother. It’s long gone now,” said the robot. Justice shifted uncomfortably, “Sorry.” “It’s not your fault. Though maybe if I had upgraded my body to be like a gymnast, I could’ve vaulted over you...though I think I’d need a pole vault and some doves for when I pole vault over you in slow motion,” remarked the droid. Justice giggled as the robot’s mood ring changed to sky blue. “Well, I’m glad there’s somebody around here with a sense of humor,” said the robot, “I’m Gemini,” Justice held out his hand, “I’m Justice.” Gemini looked down and observed Justice’s hand. He hesitated for a second before reciprocating Justice’s gesture of friendship. “Weird name. I would’ve figured names like Wall or Ox would’ve done you justice,” said Gemini. Justice giggled, “Did you seriously try to make a pun out of my name?” He began to walk forward with Gemini following next to him. “I know. It’s low-brow humor. I’m sorta rusty at jokes since...I don’t really have anybody to talk to at work,” shrugged Gemini. Justice asked, “You work alone?” “Naw, it’s just that everybody is a jackass. They see me as a joke or furniture or whatever and talk behind my back. Just because I’m not an organic being doesn’t make me less of a person for trying to study magic. So I get back at them by speaking in beeps and whirs. It all means jackshit, and it pisses them off. It’s awesome,” answered Gemini. Justice laughed, “That’s kind of an asshole thing to do. So you study magic?” “Yeah it’s what I was programmed for. My dad, I mean, creator was interested in seeing if a robot can perform magic. So I just try to analyze spells and enchanted items and see if I can understand how they can work. Currently, I’ve found that magic has a unique wavelength when my ears try to tune in. Haven’t been able to zero in on it yet, but I’m getting there,” explained Gemini. Justice thought back to his encounter of the dying magic that tried to keep the Skeleton Lord sealed. He questioned, “What about smell?” “Smell?” said Gemini. Justice nodded, “Yeah. When I found magic that died out, it made a popping noise and smelled like burnt popcorn.” Gemini tapped his chin as his mood ring changed to purple. “Interesting. What sort of magic was this?” he asked. Justice answered, “Uhhh, sealing magic.” “Did it have a color?” questioned Gemini. Justice replied, “Blue.” “When and where did you see this happen?” pressed Gemini. Not wanting to reveal his secret identity, Justice quickly surveyed the stores closest to him as a means of finding an excuse to distract Gemini. A few steps away, he spotted a boutique he needed to go into, Battlefield Delicates & Activewear. The shop seemed to cater mainly towards underwear and brief-style clothing. Underwear was a definite need for his wardrobe. Justice pointed, “Uhh, Oh hey! I need to get some clothes from this store. Want to come in with me?” “Mmm, Sure. I never went clothes shopping before. I mean, other than going to the supermarket to pick up the stuff I’m wearing right now. With exception to this Mokko fundoshi,” replied Gemini. Justice looked down at him, “Why not?” “Never saw the point of buying more, since I don’t soil it as easily as you organics do. No offense,” shrugged Gemini. Justice spoke back, “None taken.” As the two walked inside, Justice observed the interior. It looked no different than the clothing stores he shopped at back in Sunnysville; albeit with minor changes. The boutique was a small shop that had mannequins showing off the boutique’s flashiest clothing, thematic colors of brown, red, and grey strewn about, clothing racks with different styles and size, and a mix of electronica and heavy metal music softly playing from the store’s speakers. A small Latino sales clerk appeared from behind the purchasing counter and waved at the two. “Welcome to Battlefield Delicates & Activewear! How can I help you today?” he greeted. Justice waved back, “Oh, hi! I’m new here. Do you have anything my size? I’m an Extra Large.” “Of course! Everything you see here does carry an XL size. Have a look around and let me know if you need anything. We do have a changing booth in the back corner of the store,” nodded the sales clerk. Justice wandered the store with Gemini silently following behind. As they passed by the swimwear section, Justice snatched up swimming briefs that had colorful designs and patterns. There were other styles that caught his eye; such as mankinis and similar swimwear that were just as revealing. Gemini finally spoke up, “So why are you picking up so much? Don’t you only need one if you’re going swimming? Or is this for your daily activities when you’re walking around and stuff? Or...is it because you keep soiling them to the point that they have to be disposed?” “What?! No! I just like it. The designs are really nice, and I’d look good in it,” exclaimed Justice, “So it really is legal to wear all this in public places like this?” The robot pointed to his hunter green utility belt. “Pretty much. As long as your bits and tits are covered, you can wear as little as you like. I used to only wear a loincloth, but then I had trouble with transporting my personal effects around. Ya know, wallet and change and stuff. So I wear this cause of the pockets,” explained Gemini. Justice nodded, “Oh. So your job is okay with you dressed like that?” “Well, they don’t say anything, so I guess so,” answered Gemini. The two wandered over to the loincloth section. The area was lined with furs and long cloths meant to be fastened into a fundoshi-style loincloth. As Justice browsed the fur loincloths, he was slightly amused by a row that seemed to confirm a demand for fake fur loincloths; most likely for the people that wanted to feel like a barbarian without the feeling of blood on their hands. He picked up a few furs that felt really soft and turned to Gemini. Justice pleaded, “Can you hold a couple for me?” “Sure, I guess,” complied Gemini, “Hey, don’t dump the whole thing on me!” The mood ring on Gemini turned red as Justice began placing all his collected garments into Gemini’s arms. “Sorry, I’m running out of space on my arms,” apologized Justice. Gemini exclaimed, “Then stuff it between your pecs! There’s lots of space there!” Justice resumed his perusal while Gemini slowly calmed down with his mood ring becoming white. As Justice began to browse the fundoshi cloths and select whatever appealed to his tastes, a thought came to him. “Hey, I just thought about something. Do you have a favorite color?” questioned Justice. Gemini paused for a moment, “Hmmm, not really, no. You?” “Well...it used to be gold, but not anymore,” said Justice. Gemini pressed on, “Why?” “It’s...I don’t feel like it...it doesn’t really express me anymore. I don’t feel like I’m the best anymore. And gold is such an awesome color that winners wear. But I’ve only just been getting by, and there are people out there much better than me,” admitted Justice. Gemini followed Justice into the underwear section and said nothing for a few seconds. He then moved in front of Justice but kept close to his side. He stated, “So why not go after silver? Getting by is still winning. It’s just not the end result you wanted. It might not be as great as gold, but silver is still great nonetheless.” Justice stopped in his tracks. Gemini had a point. Silver is still an accomplishment and quite pretty; as well as shiny. “Hmmm, I guess you’re right. I think I’ll get seven of these then,” agreed Justice. Standing in front of a clothing rack full of shimmering silver thongs next to gold ones, Justice began picking them up. He would definitely look just as good in silver, and it would complement his golden bracelets. Gemini inquired, “So if gold isn’t your favorite color anymore, why do you still wear the bracelets?” “It’s a birthday gift from my parents. Besides, just because gold isn’t my favorite color anymore, doesn’t mean that I don’t like wearing golden jewelry,” answered Justice. After picking up other selections of thongs, jockstraps, and string bikini underwear, Justice and Gemini dropped the collected garments on the check-out counter in front of the store clerk. The store clerk scanned each clothing while asking his default question if they found everything to their liking. Justice responded with his scripted yes. Another thing that never changed even outside of the artificial word; store employees always asking the same questions and saying the same phrase. A few minutes passed by in silence after Justice’s reply until the clerk finished scanning all the clothes. The store employee looked up at Justice, “Your total is three thousand, six hundred and eighty-five dollars and sixty-eight cents.” Justice reached down into his utilikilt’s pockets and found only empty space. He never bothered taking his wallet and phone out of Marvelous Man’s jacket before transforming back. If he wants to get those two things back, he will have to transform again. “Shit…” gritted Justice in a hushed voice. He smiled at the clerk, “Umm, I think I left my wallet in the changing room. I’ll go get it and be right back.” After excusing himself, Justice powerwalked towards the corner end of the store where the changing room lied. He entered the stall and tapped his golden bracelets together. A small flash of light escaped from the stall twice but went unnoticed both times by his new friend and the clerk. Justice then exited the changing room and slowly waddled back to the cash register; trying to keep his massive erection tucked behind his tree trunk thighs. He reached into his khaki kilt’s pocket and retrieved his leather wallet. Pulling out a black debit card from it, he handed it over to the store clerk. Gemini turned to Justice, “The hell kind of job allows you to blow that amount of cash?” “I’m actually in between jobs right now. My parents, ummm...they left me a trust fund. And I’m buying this much cause I accidentally forgot to bring my clothes with me when I moved here,” explained Justice. Handing Justice back his debit card, the store employee began to stuff Justice’s purchased garments into several bags. The cash register completed the transaction and printed out a receipt during the bagging. The clerk then snatched the receipt and handed it, along with the filled shopping bags, to Justice. The retail associate chimed, “Thanks for shopping! Hope to see you again!” Justice thanked the clerk and accepted the items. Still feeling flustered from the transformations, Justice decided that he would finish his clothes shopping another day. After all, it was perfectly legal for him to wear his purchased clothings in public, so there was no longer an immediate need to find something to wear as Justice. With his shopping bags, he and Gemini exited the store. It was time to obtain the utensils for his adult needs. But first, he needed to find a directory. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Having walked passed a music store and up another floor, the duo arrived at the erotica store, Carnal Desires. The entire interior of the store was painted with a layer of black and random areas bathed in the rays of blacklight. Strewn about, there was aisles of sexual toys, lingerie, and DVDs. Though what stood out amidst this outlet was a small table carrying a wide selection of nail polish that was located in the center of the store’s foyer. “All right! I need to stock up on fingernail polish. I left my whole collection at home,” said Justice. Picking up a shopping basket he spotted next to the store’s entrance, Justice made his way to the nail polish table. The bodybuilder rapidly plucked every shade and placed it in his basket. Gemini’s mood ring turned to gray as he watched his friend shop. Gemini questioned out loud, “Why is there a nail polish section in this erotica outlet?” As Justice heard his friend’s inquiry, he looked at the label of the current polish he had in his grasp. “I dunno, but it’s pretty-...oh,” responded Justice, “It’s all sex pun names. Precum Clear.” Gemini’s mood ring turned to sky blue, “Ha! Well, at least they function as nail polish, right? That’s all that matters.” “Yeah, you’re right,” grinned Justice. With one of each color in the basket, Justice made his way to the sex toy aisle and eyed the rows of lubrications bottles within that area. He picked up each brand and sampled drops of it on his fingertip; rubbing his fingertips together to test its viscosity and slickness. Eventually, he settled on bottles of strawberry and grape flavored lubricant, a really slippery lube branded as Unicorn Cum, an itch-irritant lube branded as Crack Addict, and ultrasound thermal gel lubricant. Justice also included a few bottles of massage oil in case if he invited someone like Gene over for something more...sensual. The two made their way further down the aisle into the rows of dildos differing in height, width, color, and even species. Justice browsed passed the smaller, beginners selection and inspected the ones for more advance users. Grabbing a couple that suited his fancy, he began stuffing a few into his basket. Gemini’s mood ring flared pink, “H-Holy shit! You can actually fit those in you?! That one’s as big as my fist!” “Yeah. I’m naturally loose, and I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ve even deepthroated them when I was in the mood,” shrugged Justice. Gemini shook his head, “Nooo...That?! No way you could fit that in your throat! Don’t you humans, ya know, throw up? Cause of that bulimia stuff.” “Nope. I never had a gag reflex. Made sword swallowing really easy when I tried that one time,” reminisced Justice. Gemini crossed his arms, “Prove it.” “Okay,” said Justice. Deepthroating was always an easy feat for Justice, especially for a dildo that size. It was a bit amusing for Justice to see Gemini so shocked. Though he had to admit, performing oral on a sex toy in public to amaze his friend was a bit arousing. Picking up the toy Gemini exclaimed about, he held its bulbous head to his lips. A tumbling sound of rubbery thuds echoed on the top shelf next to him. Turning to the noise, Justice spotted a decorated skull. It was perched above the top shelf of toppled dildos; staring down at him. In each of its sockets was a blinking red light in the center, while white pixelated words “REC” appeared in the top center of the empty, black sockets. The skull seemed to breathe heavily like a stereotypical voyeur pervert. Justice’s brow flexed in confusion, “Sugar Skull?” “You know this guy?” said Gemini. Marvelous Man personally met the Sugar Skull and would have knowledge about the ghoul’s existence. Justice, however, did not. Justice lied, “No. That head is a sugar skull. The kind from Dia de los Muertos.” “That is correct. But I’m not just any sugar skull. I’m THE Sugar Skull,” proclaimed the ghoul. Sugar Skull began to clumsily climb over the aisle dividing shelves; his torso crossing over and knocking over other dildos in the process. The dildos rolled off the shelf and made rubber plattering sounds upon floor impact. It was surprising to see Sugar Skull not glowing at all after being supercharged last night. The ghoul continued, “And I-” The shelf holding up the sex toys and the upper half of Sugar Skull’s body collapse. Upon the echo of bent metal, Sugar Skull careened towards the ground. Justice and Gemini took a step back for the ghoul to land between them, rather than on them. His fall was broken by the floor dildos; causing his back to land in an uncomfortable, jagged fashion. “Aye!” grunted Sugar Skull, “I’m okay. I just need to move into a more comfortable position.” The ghoul used his legs to push off the ground and slide himself forward. After two soft pushes, Sugar Skull’s head was directly underneath Justice’s khaki utilikilt. Justice rolled his eyes. Of course Sugar Skull would do something like that. “Wow, you are packing! Do you have a permit for that, uh, concealed weapon?! Perhaps you should squat down, so I can inspect it. Maybe even have a taste of your fruit salad. Don’t worry, I love licking the rim of the bowl too,” exclaimed Sugar Skull. He paused for a moment, “Oh. You probably couldn’t see, but I was, umm, waggling my long blue jelly tongue at you.” Gemini’s mood ring flashed green before switching to a concentrated orange. As the colors flashed, the robot stepped forward and stomped on Sugar Skull’s crotch. The ghoul wailed in pain, while Gemini continued to grind his foot against Sugar Skull’s privates. Sugar Skull immediately rolled away from Gemini’s assault and stood up. His eyes changed back to spinning, yellow cartoon flowers. The ghoul winced, “I think you misheard me. I didn’t ask you to crush my balls. Though I’m not opposed to it. I’m just not in the mood for it right now.” “Well, I’m not in the mood for you sexual harassing my new friend,” fired back Gemini. Sugar Skull smiled, “Ohhh, so you were feeling left out, huh? It’s fine. Everybody wants to touch the living contradiction of life and death. So tell me, how big is your robo dick?” Gemini’s mood ring returned to white while crossing his arms. “I don’t have one,” he said. Justice and Sugar Skull both said, “Huh?” “I don’t have one. I don’t have a penis cause I’m not a pleasurebot,” explained Gemini, “...And cause I haven’t gone through robo-puberty yet…” The ghoul broke out in laughter. His purple teeth chattered for a few seconds before his face became completely serious. “Wait, how old are you? Because I don’t mess with kids, and I’m not going to touch any robo jailbait,” said Sugar Skull. Gemini sighed, “There’s no laws for robot pedophilia...I don’t think...But if it helps, I’m physically six months old. Mentally, I’m nineteen years old.” The air hung thick with awkward tension, as rave music played in the distance. “Huh. Well, that’s sort of killing my erection,” said Sugar Skull. The ghoul turned to Justice, “But perhaps I can resurrect yours, hehe. Tell me, what’s better than one penis?” Before Justice could answer, Sugar Skull stepped towards him. He closed the gap between himself and Justice until they were within kissing distance with each other’s faces. The ghoul grabbed Justice’s hand and placed the palm against the loins of his purple pants. “Two penises,” whispered in Justice’s ear. The curiousness about Sugar Skull went up another level. In the palm of Justice’s hand, it actually felt like there was two penises residing in the ghoul’s nethers. Gemini’s mood ring changed to green. Gently wringing his hand away, Justice stepped back. He declined, “Sorry, but I don’t even know your name.” “Oh, how rude of me,” apologized the ghoul, “My name is Sugar Skull. A ghoul from Limbo. My job is to investigate any supernatural things that could be hiding in the human body. I am excellent at searching every crevice and places that are in need of being touched.” Justice held out his hand in an attempt to greet. Hopefully to distract Sugar Skull from making the effort of seducing him. He introduced himself, “I’m Justice. Justice Starr.” Sugar Skull reciprocated the handshake. “A pleasure to meet you...or will be, hehe. Say, have we met before? Perhaps in a dark place? Your body is very familiar,” said the ghoul. Justice shook his head, “I don’t think so. I just moved here yesterday.” “Hmmm, well, I do not usually go for big guys. But you are very cute. You remind me of a hero I met last night,” mentioned Sugar Skull. Justice began to sweat, “Oh?” “Yes. And maybe I’ll see him and you again soon,” flirted Sugar Skull. The ghoul reached into his purple sleeve and pulled out a business card. He placed it in Justice’s basket. Sugar Skull winked with a heart emoticon, “My card. In case you wish to discuss later...or maybe something more. Adios.” As Sugar Skull turned to walk past Gemini, Justice picked up the card from his shopping basket. Other than his name, phone number, and email printed on it, there was big cursive text that read, “Let’s make each other feel alive~”. Justice flipped the card to see if there was anything else printed on it. It was a greyscale photo of Sugar Skull’s naked, chiseled body covered in rose petals and lying on what appears to be a fur rug. The ghoul’s head was cropped out of the photo as well as his nethers. His hands were sensually placed with one on the edge of his chest, and the other on the crevice of his diamond cut hips. It seemed that no matter what Sugar Skull did, it was always a flirtatious opportunity to get into his pants. “What a creep,” huffed Gemini. Justice shrugged, “I think he means well. He just...gets caught up showing off. I admit, it is a bit charming. C’mon, I gotta go buy this stuff, and I don’t want to be caught with the wrecked dildo shelf.” The two made their way to cash register and proceeded the checkout with the store’s clerk. Thankfully, the total price was not as ridiculous compared to the Battlefield store, so Gemini did not bother to raise questions about his income or work history. Perhaps the trust fund excuse extinguished any further monetary query. After all, it was only a measly five hundred dollars; an amount that Justice considers to be petty. As the two left the store with the recently purchased adult toys and lubrication, Justice remembered something. It was something he needed to give his friend before anything else. It was not too weird to be giving gifts to somebody you just met, right? “Oh, right! I almost forgot,” he said, “I got you a gift!” Digging through the clothes of his Battlefield shopping bags, Justice searched for Gemini’s gift. His eyes glittered as he found what he was looking for. Pulling it out, the gift revealed to be a drawstring fundoshi. “Here! I got you another Mokko fundoshi!” presented Justice. Handing it to Gemini, the robot held it in front of his eyes. The lenses on Gemini’s head rotated as it seem to be scanning the garment. His mood ring changed to a thoughtful purple. He analyzed, “It’s...very blue. It’s dark...yet very bright. What shade is this?” “I know, right? It’s Zaffre. It’s like a shade of cobalt or lapis. I got you this, so you had more variety. And in case you soiled the one you’re wearing, heh. Blue is a friendly color, so I figured your coworkers might liken up to you more. Plus, I think it’d look good on you,” explained Justice. Gemini’s mood ring changed to pink, “Oh...thanks. It’s very nice. Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Hey, do you know what time it is?” smiled Justice. Gemini replied, “Ummm, it’s 12:36 P.M. Why?” Justice’s eyes went wide. He had spent too much time socializing and shopping. The goal was to spend thirty minutes of gathering some of his necessities and handling the rest after he visited the D.A.B. Headquarters. But even though he failed to accomplish this goal, he did not feel completely bad about it. “Oh, man! Sorry, I gotta go! Running late! I’ll see you later!” said Justice. Justice dropped his shopping bags and took off; sprinting towards the parking lot. He could hear Gemini calling off into the distance, but there no time to reply. Justice knew it was rude to leave his new friend abruptly and leave all his shopping bags there. However, he was on a tight schedule and could not waste a second more. In Justice’s mind, he quickly rationalized that his bags would appear at his apartment within an hour. After all, that is how it worked in Sunnysville, so the same should happen in the real world. Because if it did not, then Justice would be royally screwed. Next Chapter
  16. Marvelous Man - Chapter 2

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1eM-QYOab19bheMRu-kyTHwi1COJztr7GpwvYsnXH6rQ) 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/ First Chapter | Next Chapter Chapter 2: Stars & Stripes What started as an angry stomp out of the house escalated into a full on sprint. Justice ran down the sidewalk with the wind grazing over his swole, naked body, and his heavy pecs bouncing in the air. He kept sprinting without slowing down for even a moment as he passed over crossings and bridges. Justice's anger-fueled charge finally came to a stop when the sidewalk ended at a forked road in front of the artificial town's mall. Even though sweat collected on his chocolate skin with liquid trails glistening down his diamond cut six-pack, Justice breathed as if he had taken a brisk walk. Taking a moment to observe the choices in front of him, he decided to enter the mall. It was a habit of his to go to the arcade's rhythm platform game and dance his frustrations away. Inside, Justice felt the cool tiles absorbing the heat on his soles, and the other mall citizens staring at him. It didn't matter to Justice, because the people weren't real. They were androids built without any social interaction programming. He knew all they could do was stare and follow whatever their programming purposed them to do. So instead of doing his enraged naked walk to his room or some other part of the house as usual, he would go dance at the mall's arcade to vent his frustration and anger even faster. Justice strided into the arcade; blinking lights and players scattered all over with the scent of pizza grease wafting in the air for some reason. As he approached the back of the arcade, he spotted Doki Doki Beat; the dancing rhythm machine that never moved during his whole life in this fake world. Picking up a few game tokens from a stack sitting next to the selection buttons, he inserted the tokens in the slot and pressed the Player One start button. It was always weird how after Justice told his parents what his favorite arcade machine was, there was always a stack of tokens on that machine that he alone used whenever he visited. Now he knew why. Justice stepped onto the game's platform and tapped the selection buttons a few times before choosing a hyperactive J-pop song on Cardiac Arrest difficulty. The screen faded for a moment before appearing back with empty outlined directional arrows and a background filled with nauseating bright colors and smiley-faced hearts. Right when the song started, the screen was immediately assaulted with rainbow color changing directional arrows rising from the bottom at blinding speeds. Justice instantly reacted by stepping on directional arrow buttons built into the platforms. He danced and stepped in sync with all the arrows on the screen; never missing one. His body was so attuned to the game's music and rhythm, even his rhythm pole and sac bobbed and swerved with the beat. >>>>>>>>>>>>> After exhausting all the available game tokens, Justice exited the arcade. He noticed his mother, Goddess Aphrodite, sitting at a food court table across from him; sipping through a straw on a milkshake. It seemed no matter what she did, it always made Aphrodite's curvy body look beautiful. Even if all she wore right now was just simple jeans, plain black sandals, and a yellow shirt with the radioactive logo. Justice sighed and decided to go visit her. Aphrodite smiled as Justice sat across from her, "Hey there, sugarplum. Feeling a bit better?" "A bit..." nodded Justice, "...I don't hate you or my dads, mom...but I am angry at what you all did." Justice's mom stopped drinking her milkshake, "...I know. I'm sorry what we did, honey. But you have to know that we didn't put you in here just to make you into a superhero. It was to make sure you didn't hurt anybody while we were raising you." "Because I wouldn't be able to control my superpowers? Wait, do I have any?" questioned Justice. His mother gestured her empty hand with a maybe. Aphrodite spoke, "You should. We all gave you a sliver of our essence. At the very least, you have very superior genetics. Normal people don't get big like that from doing a hundred pushups every day without a needle's assistance." Justice's mother pulled out her phone and texted for a few seconds before standing up. "Can you come with me, sweetie? I want to explain more about why we did what we did in a more comfortable area for me. My limo is outside." requested Aphrodite. Justice's frown slowly creased into a small smile, "Okay, mom." Justice was more than happy to leave the mall. The seats were styled with a grid of holes along the back and bottom. And when he stood up, his bubble butt and the back of his tree-trunk thighs were indented with polka dots all over. As the two walked back to the entrance, Aphrodite remarked, "You know I really do love you, right?" "Well of course you have to say that. You're the goddess of love. You have to love everybody," giggled Justice. His mother hugged his muscular arm that was wider than her head. She smiled, "Yes, but I love you on a greater level than everybody else. A mother's love is powerful, and you will always be my baby." When the two exited the mall, they were greeted by a white limo and its chauffeur parked in front of the mall's entrance. The chauffeur simply bowed without a word and opened the door for Justice and his mother. After letting his mother enter first, he struggled to get in; angling his body in order to allow his bulky to get inside the limo. "You know, I think I already know what my weakness is," joked Justice, "It's doorways. Ever since I hit fifteen, I've had to keep ducking whenever I went into another room, and now I also have to enter in sideways as well. I'm too tall and too thick." His mother smiled, "You are perfect as you are, honey." After chauffeur closed the door behind them and drove the limo back onto the streets, Justice's mother opened a cooler and pulled out a milkshake cup. "I got you a blueberry pie milkshake," said Aphrodite as she handed the cup to Justice. Justice grinned, "Awesome! Thanks, mom!" Justice's mother smiled. Even though he towered over her and looked like he could bench-press a truck, he still looked like a child; hunched over while sipping through the straw of his milkshake with both hands. "You're welcome," said Aphrodite, "So back to what I was saying earlier about protecting you from harming others...The thing is...Even though we gave you a sliver of our essence, getting it from one god is the limit for any being to handle. If a mortal were to receive from two gods, there's a good chance they could become violently insane, die at an early age, or both. And from three...well...your chances did not look good, but we took those chances anyways." Justice connected the dots, "And that's why you put me here. To make sure I didn't hurt anybody if I went crazy...Why did you take such a risk then?" "...Your fathers and I wanted to relive the glory days so badly. Having our demigod children going on adventures, fighting bad people, and winning in our honor. But the bad people had evolved. Some of them had grown powerful enough to make us flinch. We did not want to send our child out to that world to simply die before drawing their sword. So we did something very drastic and made you." answered his mother. She continued, "We were lucky to spend all these years raising you into a fine man. And now, you can unlock the rest of your powers and become a fine superhero...But if this isn't what you want, I understand. It was very selfish what we did, and I love you more than my glory days." Justice looked down at his milkshake and continued to sip. "I guess...I could give it a try. It'd be cool to have some superpowers. Besides, you all kept me so busy, I didn't have enough time to try out college," said Justice. His mother smiled as the limo slowed down to a stop and parked. After the chauffeur opened the door, Aphrodite exited the limo first before Justice struggled to follow suit. Right when Justice finally got out, he noticed the limo transported them to the town's beach. His mother spoke up, "I agreed to meet your fathers here. They have a gift for you that will turn you into a real superhero. We were supposed to give it to you after the cake, but your fathers' loose lips sent you into your nude rage." "Sorry," blushed Justice. Aphrodite sighed, "It's not your fault, honey. Your whole world got turned upside down before you could even have cake. It's understandable. Come on, let's go meet up with your fathers." >>>>>>>>> "I'm glad you're not angry anymore. I kinda expected you to go on a murder spree across the whole town. We honestly thought you finally cracked, cause of all the power in you," admitted Papa Ares. Justice looked down, "Yeah. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The robots aren't bad and didn't really do anything bad to me...that wouldn't be right." Apollo stepped in next to Justice; holding a present-wrapped box. "Good to hear then! Water under the bridge! Love prevails and family is important. Yada yada yada. Time to open your birthday present!" interrupted Apollo. As usual, his dad, Apollo, likes to act like a diva and does not like being unincluded from a conversation or event. Even his clothes screamed for attention of how fashion-forward he was; a sky blue buttoned shirt with a red ribbon tie, light khaki pants and shiny brown loafers. His papa, Ares, on the on the other hand unintentionally calls attention to himself by wearing what he feels is "casual". This entails him mainly wearing a wifebeater with a necklace made out of construction chain links, a black utilikilt, and black army boots. Justice turned to his dad, "Oh, right. Thanks, Dad." Apollo held out the gift; a velvet black box wrapped with a white ribbon bow. Justice gently picked up the gift from Apollo's hands and undid the ribbon. He then opened the box, which opened like a jewelry box. Inside, two large wrist-sized golden bracelets shimmered on top of black pillows. "So this is the gift that'll turn me into a real superhero?" asked Justice. Apollo nodded, "That it is. They're magical bracelets that we got your Uncle Hephaestus to make. It will activate your powers and transform you into the outfit we designed for you." Justice looked up for a moment. The last time they made something together, they created Justice from a multitude of earthy materials they each liked rather than agreeing on one kind of earthy substance. "What? Don't you want to try it on?" said his dad. Justice stared back down at the shiny gold bracelets and exhaled a small sigh. It couldn't be that bad. After all, he turned out fine, and maybe this outfit will look great. "Sure, I'll try it on," answered Justice as he set down the box. Squatting down he picked up one of bracelets; grazing his fingertips against the cool, smooth gold as his other meaty tip grazed against the sand. The bracelet was very thin and felt very light like cheap plastic jewelry. Justice noticed that this bracelet was not the type one sticks their hand through, but the kind that clamps around one's wrist. Justice opened the large bracelet and closed it around his wrist as it made a light clink. He then picked up the other gold bracelet and repeated the process. Hearing the other bracelet clink together securely, Justice took a moment to stare at his bracelets. Oddly enough, the golden bracelets clung to his wrists like a second skin. His body could barely even feel the shiny jewelry. Justice then looked at the rest of his body. Nope. Still naked. Maybe the outfit was only showing under his pecs? After all, his pectoral muscles stuck out long enough to form a shelf and block a small portion of his vision. Justice groped underneath his pecs. Still nothing. Justice stood up, "I don't think it's working. I'm still naked." "Oh, right!" Papa remembered, "We forgot to mention that it activates after saying the catchphrase. Each of us chose a word for the catchphrase and you have to finish it by saying a word that you feel would unlock your outfit and powers." "And you have to say it all while having your bracelets touching each other," chimed Apollo. Justice sighed, "So what's the catchphrase then?" In order, Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo smiled and exclaimed their chosen word for the catchphrase: "Marvelous!" "Muscle!" "Magic!" Justice stared at his parents with an apathetic glare, "...Okay." Raising his arms above his head, Justice placed one wrist on top of another. "Marvelous Muscle Magic..." Justice paused, "Metamorph." The space around Justice vanished into vacuum of blending bright lights and stars as he felt his body fall and fly at the same time. Justice realized that his whole body became paralyzed and could not even move his pinkie. He could then feel ribbon-like tentacles reach out and wrap around his torso, feet, ass, and groin. The ribbons squeezed as it began to spread up his body. The ribbons that binded to his feet and torso were black. The ones binding to his feet began to take the form of black buckled boots. The other one wrapping around his torso enveloped over his arms and began to divide over his abs and bulbous pecs into an unzipped black jacket. The ribbons that cupped his male package and only able to squeeze a portion of his large round ass were blue and started to form a swimming bikini. However, the hugging ribbon's color began to change and mimic the pattern of the United States of America's flag. The portion that groped his package turned into white and red stripes, and the rest remained blue with white stars scattered about. Justice then felt something warm wrap around his head. A bright, tube-shaped light encircled his head for a few seconds before it exploded and took the form of something more narrow; a golden wreath that Greek champion athletes used to wear. The empty space that held Justice in zero gravity collapsed, and he landed on his feet back into reality. He stood there for a few minutes, shocked by what transpired in reality as a second but felt like forever in that spaceless pocket. His body, garbed with his new heroic uniform, glowed with a soft aura. Justice stammered, "WH-WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK?!" "Language, sweetie," said his mother. Justice spoke back, "Wha-what was that?! I-I-I was floating in an aurora and attacked by tentacles! I feel so violated!" "You'll get used to that...eventually. Besides, that was your outfit being fitted on you. There's no monster in your transformation void, so you're perfectly safe," said his dad. Papa tried to change the subject, "Um, hey, why don't I just zip this up for you. I bet you'd like your new look when you find a mirror, son." "Oh, that reminds me. MIRROR GIRLS!!!" screamed Apollo. Two girls in unremarkable clothing ran up to Apollo; carrying a mirror. They were Apollo's personal androids that followed him around while carrying a body-length mirror for Apollo to gaze into at any moment. In the past, Justice figured they were miserable assistants that were paid well enough to serve his dad's vanity. Now it is clearly obvious they are soulless androids. Apollo commanded, "My son needs mirror time." The girls turned to Justice and set the mirror in front of him. At that time, Justice was paying attention to his Papa approaching him and grabbing his jacket's zippers. Ares paired the zippers together and began to zip up. The jacket slowly closed over Justice's diamond-cut abs until it reached up to Justice's mammoth pecs. Ares pulled up at the zipper, but it wouldn't budge. "Ummm, I guess you should've skipped chest day a few times, son. Hehe..." joked Papa. Apollo commented, "Don't worry about it. I figured this would happen. The last time I measured you was when you were eighteen. On the bright side, I made sure to leave enough space for your arms, and you'll look more appealing if you show your abs. Bitches love abs. But if you want to work with a boob window, then I salute you." "I'll just keep it unzipped. Papa, can you take a step back? I want to look," said Justice. Papa stepped back while Justice unzipped his jacket. Justice looked up and saw his reflection. He was in awe as he twisted his body about and posed to see all the visible angles of his new outfit. Justice smiled, "Wow, I look really good in this. Thanks, you guys. So what are my powers?" "Oh, riiight. The powers. So here's the thing...we don't know. I can diagnose you, but I want to be surprised by what you can do," answered Apollo. Justice nodded, "Okay. I think I want to try..." He looked up at the sky and smiled. "Flying," said Justice. His mother tried to speak up, "Sweetie, I don't-" Apollo placed his hand on Aphrodite's shoulder. "Let's just see what happens. I highly doubt he'll be able to fly. And if he doesn't, at least I'll get a good laugh out of this," hushed Apollo. Justice took off sprinting at a speed faster than any modern drug-enhanced olympian; causing giant boot-print dents in the sand while kicking up a flurry of sand into the air. After feeling that he picked up enough speed, Justice jumped forward with his right arm fisting straight up. Gravity did not take hold, and his body kept climbing in heights. Justice cackled, "OH MY GOSH!!! I'm seriously flying!" He stopped flying and turned around to look down on his parents. The jaws of the three gods dropped. "Stars above...He really is flying! Can any of you fly?!," said Apollo. Aphrodite shook her head, "Sorry, no." "Neither can I. But I thought you could fly, Apollo," spoke Ares. Apollo sighed, "Not really. I have to use my chariot if I ever want to get off ground. As far as I know, only Hermes can fly." "Gold star for you, Justice. Now come on down, so we can test your other powers," shouted Apollo. Justice shouted back down, "Okay." Justice's body gently floated back down to where his parents were. As he arrived towards the ground, the tips of his feet lightly nestled against the sand before the rest of the appendage rolled onto the ground; barely shifting the sand itself. "So what's next?" asked Justice. Papa coughed, "You're not gonna like this, but I need you to hold out your hand." "Ummm, okay?" said Justice. As Ares walked up to Justice, his son held out his hand. Ares instantly grabbed Justice's wrist and pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. Activating the knife's spring to eject the blade, he slashed at his son's exposed palm before Justice had time to react. Justice flinched back right when Papa released his hand. He screamed, "What the heck, Papa?!" His father looked at him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, but you would've said no if I told you what I really was gonna do," apologized Papa, "Are you bleeding?" Justice shouted back, "Of course I'm-!" He looked at his hand and saw no blood. Not even a scratch shown on his black palms. "I knew it! Invulnerable skin! Lots of superheroes have to have it nowadays. Looks like your survival rate just skyrocketed. No need to test your strength, by the way. We figured you're already plenty strong," smiled Apollo. Justice kept staring at his hand, "Huh..." "Oh, what wonderful news! My baby will be just fine. That just leaves one final test," said his mother. Aphrodite waved at her limo, "Daisington, be a dear and bring out the chicken." Justice looked up. "Chicken?" said Justice. The chauffeur exited the limo with a cage in his hands. He carried it over to where Aphrodite stood and froze in place in front of her. Aphrodite gestured to the cage, "If you please, Apollo." "Of course," said Apollo. Opening the latch, Apollo pulled out a black chicken. His hands gave a dark glow for only a second, but it was obscured underneath the feathers for Justice to see. His dad then handed it over to Papa Ares while the chicken calmly balked. "We want to see if you can heal this chicken," explained Apollo. Before Justice could say anything, Ares grabbed the chicken's wing and applied pressure with his fingertips. The bone in the chicken's wing snapped with a piece poking out of the skin. The chicken wailed in pain and struggled in the war god's grasp. "Friggety hell, papa!" screamed Justice. Ares handed the chicken to Justice, "Try to heal it, my son. Whether it dies in pain or not is up to you." Tears started to form in Justice's eyes as he cradled the chicken. "...But...how?!" said Justice. "If there is light within you, you need to let it shine," explained Apollo, "Let that light envelop those you care about and give it the intention to heal. Close all wounds; undo mistakes. Just like with flying, you'll know if you can do it." Justice looked down at the crazed chicken and sympathized its pain. He spoke softly, "It's alright. Everything will be okay." As Justice place his hand on the broken wing, he hummed a tune. He wished with all his might that the wing would feel. And then he felt it. His dad was right. He could feel a light inside of him. It felt small, but it also felt like it was feeding on his happy thoughts and memories. The light he felt within himself grew like a hungry flame. Justice compelled the light to shine out of his hand and heal the chicken. The light within him obeyed, and his hand began to glow with a golden hue. It exposed the poultry’s problems to Justice's mind, and he realized it suffered more than just a broken wing. Poison was seeping through the chicken's body, and Justice knew it would not have mattered if the wing was actually fixed. The light he was giving off is able to fix the wing, but would not be able to stop the dark poison in time from reaching the egg-layer's heart. He called on the light within him to shine brighter, but it was already at its limit. The chicken's wing glowed with golden light that spread to the rest of its body, but the light did not have enough power to go within the poultry to target the poison. To focus on more than one issue, it needed more positive energy to feed on. Justice realized this and allowed the light to envelop him and take anything else it needed to grow more powerful. And when the light fed on his humming, it became supercharged. Justice began to glow and then pulsed a ray of blinding ray of light. As the light from Justice faded, the glowing chicken in his arms calmly cooed. It vomited a black ink, which steamed and fizzled upon hitting the ground. "Marvelous. Simply marvelous," said his dad. Apollo approached Justice and placed his hand on the flightless bird. His hand glowed with the same golden shine Justice gave off. Apollo guffawed, "Not only did you heal the wing, but you cured the poison in it too! And...you can give objects a light attribute." Justice's eyebrow rose. "What do you mean by that?" asked Justice. His dad answered back, "Basically, you can imbue anything with the element of light for a certain amount of time. So you can make anything glow in the dark, including yourself, and even make it bright enough to light up a whole room. It can also be used to fight against anything with a weakness to light. So if you want to make some vampires sparkle, get ready for fireworks." Justice stood there shocked with the glowing poultry in his arms. "Wait, vampires are real too?!" exclaimed Justice. His dad nodded, "You bet your quarter-bouncing hiney they are. And put down the chicken, we don't need it anymore." Justice released the chicken, and it flapped its wings as it hit the ground. It pecked at the sand a few times before wandering off. "That wasn't a nice thing you two did," said Justice. Apollo shrugged, "It was either that or a real person. And you can't heal something that's already dead or not alive. Odds are, you would've been less scarred if you healed an animal." Justice said nothing and pawed at the sand with his foot. "Nevermind him, sweetie," spoke his mother, "We only did it with the best intentions. And now you know what your powers are. Aren't they cool?" Justice mumbled, "I guess so..." They really were cool. "So before we send you out there to be a hero, I think it's time for you to choose your hero name," said Aphrodite. Justice's eyes lit up, "Really?!" Papa picked at his scars. "Well...sure. You are the superhero after all. It's not like we wanted to pick a name for you. That would be selfish," spoke Ares. Justice thought for a moment. There was so many things about his new powers that was amazing. But like his dad, Apollo, there was not really a specific word that could encompass everything about Justice's skills. Rather, it was the ones with broader strokes of definitions like: super, awesome, or fantastic. But there was one word his parents said that stuck out and ringed with his feelings. Justice smiled, "I want to be called, Marvelous Man" His dad clicked his teeth. "Eh, let's just put a pin on that for now," said Apollo. Aphrodite leaned towards Ares and whispered, "So what did you want to call him?" Papa had stars in his eyes when he whispered back. "The Shining Fist!" he said. Next Chapter
  17. A Thing Called Curiosity

    Hi, this will be my first story posted on here, this is my story called 'A Thing Called Curiosity' which i had originally posted on metabods.com a couple of years ago It involves forced muscle growth and absorption, the story also contains a few images in order to help with the visualisation, please tell me if the images add or take away from the story. I hope you guys like it and any feedback would be appreciated! - A Thing Called Curiosity - It was a late Autumn day, and it was a particularly cool day, about 27 degrees Celsius, and quite dry wind a lot of wind so it felt like 24 degrees, Cameron liked going out on jogs in the morning, and it was a perfect day for it with this nice cool weather, so he put on a hoodie and just compression shorts and headed out, since it was still 4am he guessed there wouldn’t be many people on the street so he could wear whatever he wanted, especially on a holiday and in the weekend, everyone would be sleeping in anyways. Cameron was a 19 year old young man from a town called Willemstad in the country of Curaçao, Kingdom of Larousse, it was a very small country, only about 150.000 inhabitants, and it was a generally hot and a very humid place since it was an island surrounded by water, but during the Autumn and Winter seasons it would rain a great amount and it would make the island a generally quite cool place. Cameron was still in High School, he was an average boy in every sense, average grades, average at sports, had normal friends, but he was quite a handsome lad, he was mixed race from having both side of the mother and father coming from already mixed lineages, which gave him a very unique look, he looked Iranian but with golden tanned skin, jet black semi-wavy hair, great eyebrows and grey coloured eyes, he had those naturally pink full lips. He had no facial hair whatsoever, but he did have medium/long hair with a slight wave, it was jet black but with a few patches that grew brown naturally and he kept it in a simple pompadour hairstyle, he also had a generally hairy body, but it looked good, he had long thin soft jet black hairs on his arms and between his pecs, the rest of his pecs were hairless naturally, he also has a treasure trail that started just above belly button and went down to his crotch, and his legs were covered with long semi-wavy long black hair that was thicker on the lower legs and thinned out as it went up to the crotch area. His body was athletic, nothing too special but he certainly didn’t need it, he was tone and was 175cm tall (5’7”) and weighed a decent 68,9kg (152lbs) so he was quite the eye candy but he was humble so he never became the arrogant type of dreamboat in High School although it didn’t stop girls (and a few guys) from wanting him. One thing he was always fascinated by were the physique of world class body builders though, he wanted to be one, or meet one and be able to touch those incredible muscles but he didn’t know why, he didn’t have a particular desire to be one except he just felt like he needed to, but with school, family, job and etc. he didn’t have the luxury to invest time in body building, besides he was content with body as it was, or so he told himself, with the images of body builder physiques always in the back of his mind at all times. Back on the jog, it was 4:59am, you could barely start seeing the sky on the horizon turning orange/red as the sunrise was approaching, he had been jogging for almost an hour, when he decided it was time to start heading back, he quite sweaty and his hoodie and compression shorts were soaked, so he decided to take off the hoodie to try and dry off a bit. He decided to take a short cut through the wilderness, he was by the beach and going up back through the jogging path would take too long, so he just cut through the wood to get home faster. As he was walking through the plants after about 20 minutes the sun was almost out and the light made everything much clearer when he noticed a tiled rooftop over the plants to his right, he was a curious boy who liked exploring so he couldn’t resist and decided to go check out the old building. As he approached the little house he could clearly see it was 17th century house, Curaçao had many old colonial buildings and some smaller ruins were still in the wild lost and forgotten to time, but this one seemed in decent shape but the doorway was bricked up. “Strange,” he thought, “if it’s bricked up, then someone used it not too long ago.” That only sparked his curiosity even more, so he looked for a way in, the windows were also sealed shut except for one where it seemed to have given away, so jumped on the ledge and then stepped inside the little house. It was dusty and smelled like it had been closed off for a while but with the little light that entered through the window he could see a bit of furniture, and a bookcase filled with books, he saw a kitchen but not pans and dishes but beakers, so he thought, “Maybe a doctor lived here.” It certainly looked old, at least 30 years, so he grabbed one of the books from the bookshelf, and read, it was about genes, hormones, tissue transplants and drugs. “Hmm, it seems more like a biochemist then a medical doctor,” he thought to himself when he heard some creaking and the rotted old bookcase he took the book from sank into the floor on the right side, it surprised him since the floor seemed like it was made from concrete covered with tiles, but he noticed that only under the bookcase it was a wooden plank floor “so there’s something more under the house?” again curiosity got the best of Cameron and pulled the bookshelf out the hole and moved it to one side. “If i take out 3 more planks I should be able to fit through there,” he thought to himself as he shined a light from his phone down the hole. After taking out the needed planks before he jumped in the whole he heard some voices, it were people and they were near, he didn’t want someone to find him and ruin his fun since he doubted he should be in the, so he jumped in the hole where a staircase awaited him to his surprise, he shined with phone and the staircase seemed to go down a few more steps, he couldn’t see far since the phone’s screen isn’t as bright as a flashlight would be, then he turned back and peaked out the hole and he heard the voices of the other morning joggers and decided to just drag the small cabinet against the wall over the hole, the cabinet was bigger and hid the entire hole so if someone also got curious of the house they wouldn’t find this secret passageway. He then turned his attention to where he was, it seemed the little house had a basement, so he walked down the stairs, it was about 16 steps which lead him to steal door. “This door doesn’t look 30 years old, it’s dusty but must be 15 years old at best,” he said out loud as he examined the door with his phone. “The plot thickens,” he said as he found the 2 latches that held the door closed, he pulled one back and then the other, and he opened the door so a very dark room, the room felt hot, about 29 degrees but very humid so it felt like 31 degrees or a summer day. “Good thing I took off my hoodie,” he said. He couldn’t see anything and he guessed the room was quite expansive since he couldn’t shine at anything with lights except an industrial looking steel pathway that lead forwards, so he touched around the sides of the door looking for a switch but couldn’t find one, so he decided to walk forward on the pathway, albeit carefully, which after a few steps he found a stand with switches on it from what he could make out and he could barely see something a little more ahead, so he went for and said, “What the hell, hope this is it,” and flicked 1 switch then the second one, and third, and fourth and fifth switches up, he heard the flicker of an old light then one grid of lights from behind him turned on then another over his head and so on towards the front, and he saw what he had discovered. “this is incredible!” he yelled out with a grin on his face. The lights showed the pathway that lead to a central octagonal shaped part which looked like a research or control station for something, and there was a bundle of pipes that lead to it and then a huge amount of different wires and pipes then lead out of it so another part further in front which he could somewhat see but it was still in the only dark part of the room. He walked over to the control station where there was a ring of monitors that turned on in the inner circumference of the octagon, and in the middle and tower where all the pipes and wires lead in and the back out. The screens slowly booted up one by one. He looked at the largest monitor and saw different buttons and controls. “I guess this one controls other things,” and he looked at one that read ‘illuminate tanks’ he couldn’t guess what that could mean so he pressed it because the only places still needing illumination was the dark unclear part further back from the octagon. What he saw made his jaw drop, it was an area a staircase down from the octagonal platform where he was standing, and there is where he saw 5 large glass vessels filled with a transparent liquid, they were each illuminated by individual internal lights and a central large overhead lighting system over the central floor area with the glass vessels in a circular array around it. But the truly shocking thing he saw was the contents of the glass vessels, it was 5 enormous men, it was 5 men with the physiques he always admired and craved, it was 5 body builders with incredible muscle size, one in each tank. Cameron was awestruck and walked down the steel stairs that lead to the tank area, he managed to get his head to come back to earth as he started to analyse the area where the tanks were situated. There were large wire bundles and various tubes that lead from the control platform over to the tank are which split overhead and came down over each of tanks. “I guess they feed power and that liquid to the tanks and I guess transport information to, and from the tanks to the computers up there,” he said speaking out loud. But there were other wires and tubes that lead other places, like from each of the tanks a tube went overhead and converged into a single pipeline which lead overhead to the middle of the area and then had a different tube that came down and it had an oddly shaped nozzle. There were also tubes that come from under the floor and up to 2 stands, one had 1 tube and the other held 2 tubes about 3meters (10ft) apart from each other and in between them on the floor there was a part of the floor made from metal and was an odd shape, kind of like the silhouette of a dolphin seen from above or the reclining dentist chairs but this was just flat so just the contour. And there were 3 little openings on the metal plate on the floor, one at the top, and two, one on each side about halfway down. His attention shifted to the men in the tanks so he approached the first one to the right, he read what a plate on the glass read “Subject number 5  –  NEN code: 300977  –  Height: 179cm (5’10”  –  Weight: 106,2kg (234lbs)  –  BF percentage: 11%  –  Age: 31” “Wow that is enormous, and so heavy.” Cameron found it even more appealing when a body builder wasn’t just big but also quite heavy for their size. He further examined the man in the tank, he was naked and suspended in the liquid in a limp posture like he was just floating under water, and he had two tubes probing his body, a thin one went inside his mouth which he guess provided life support, a very large one just laid on the bottom of the tank, and there was one that came down his back and went into his anus, the tube was transparent and rather thick, the diameter must have been about 4cm (1.5inches) or 14cm circumference (5inches), Cameron didn’t know why but looking at the huge pipe enter the body builder anus made him feel warmer and his heart started racing, and he also got quite the hard on and since he was wear compression shorts, the hard on was quite evident, Cameron never really felt any attraction to other men, but then again not much towards a woman either, the only that made his heart race was thinking about muscled physiques, he confused as to what he was feeling and how to interpret it but one he was sure about is that he liked it. Still with a hard on Cameron looked around him to see that all the men also had the same tubes probing them in them in the same places and the one at the bottom of the tanks, and all of them had information plates describing their weight, age, size etc. He really wanted to know what this place was so turned around and went back up the stairs to the control platform. He researched and looked, he went to books, papers and file after file on the monitors, he saw formulas, designs for machines, plans, schematics, theories and read document after document. He figured out that this place was built by a doctor L. J. Andrews privately and he was obsessed with ever larger muscular physiques, and he was designing a machine that could take muscles from one person and give it to another person, namely himself, and he went through a lot of research and development to design the method to achieve his goal, but ultimately although he finished successfully his research a couple of years ago he had to abandon it, even though the machine and formulas were done and correct, and he had “acquired” the donators for the muscle (acquired here meaning he kidnapped the 5 body builders) there was a major downside to the experiment, no matter how much he crunched the data and recalculated, there was only a 0.7% chance a subject could survive the muscle impregnation “there is less then 1% chance of survival?” Cameron muttered, a chill running down his spine. “There is more than 99% chance of dying if someone used this machine, no wonder the doctor abandoned it, I guess I should leave this buried away as I found it.” With that Cameron decided to leave that place. As he put the books and papers back into their places and closed the files on the various monitors, as he was closing the last file on the monitor next to the staircase that lead to down to the tanks, he accidently opened a control panel as he looked down at the tanks and pondered what it would be like to have a physique like that. Then as he was turning around he slipped on a patch of grease on the floor that he didn’t notice before, lunged his had forward to grab anything to keep him from falling down the stair, and he grabbed the screen he was working on but his hand slipped off of it and he tumbled down the stairs and rolled onto the floor below, he was dazed and disoriented from the bumps his head took and he didn’t notice he was laid out over the metal plate on the floor, as he was recollecting his thoughts and trying to figure out what happen he heard an audible *beep* and he felt a cold band stretch over his forehead and adjust tightly, he didn’t understand what was happening, suddenly two other cold bands also stretched over both his wrists and tightening down holding his arms in place just as the forehead band held his head down. As this was happening he finally came back to his senses, and then it hit him “fuck!! I must have pressed something when I grabbed the monitor!!”. He realised he might have turned on the machine with a less then 1% survival rate, and now he was stuck in it with no way to escaped! As he came to this morbid conclusion he felt something else happening which he directed his attention to. The plate on the floor he was strapped to started rising from the ground, it stopped at about 1m (about 3ft) above the floor, then one of the two tubes in the direction his feet were, started moving, it was the slender tube and it had a needle attachment, Cameron was scared but there was nothing he could do, he struggled and struggle and fought with the bands restraining him as the needle got closer to his body, but they wouldn’t come loose, so he had no choice but to resign himself to the situation and hope that he somehow makes it out alive as he laid on the cold examination table-like thing he was strapped to. The tube and needle reached up to about halfway to the side of his right thigh and pricked him and inject a small amount of a liquid with a blue hue to it and then receded back to its original position, the prick didn’t hurt too much and he was feeling drowsy or drugged Cameron wondered “well what is it going to do?” just as he finished that sentenced he felt the bands on wrists and head loosen up, and then they receded as well into the table. “Maybe the process takes place in stages, maybe I’ll be okay if I leave right now,” but after saying that and trying to get off the table he found himself unable to move his limbs. “What the fuck is going on here? Move. Move!” he yelled at his body but it didn’t he could only move his neck freely, his extremities seem to have been numbed by the injection, they felt normal in every way except they felt incredibly weak, like when your muscles are fatigued after you have worked them out extensively and you can’t even lift them up afterwards, that’s how they felt, and so he started worrying again and he remembered. “I forsake myself to it, guess I was just too happy that it stopped but I guess it’s not done yet with me yet,” he laid there for about a minute before something else happened. The second tube that was next to the one with the needle started moving, it was a much bigger tube, it was a dark grey colour, and it was as thick as the ones in the tanks that went in the anus of the body builders, and it had a strange attachment, and as it got closer he could make out what that attachment was, it was in the shape of a penis head, and the rest of the tube was ribbed with lines and bumps, making the whole length of the tube resemble the shaft of a penis, as it got closer to his body Cameron felt the table shifting, it moved his legs up from under the calves, into a position that resemble the position of sitting on a chair but on his back, and he realised the tube really was meant for his anus, he was scared just like before for the needle but a little voice in the back of his mind told him he wanted to try and know what it felt like, and his penis became erect in a second as he remembered what he felt when he saw it inside the bodybuilder, he was afraid but he wanted to feel it, the desire to experience it grew and grew, and before he knew he felt the cold tube shaped like a penis touch the outside of his anus, it was cold and sent shivers down his body. When the tube reached the outside of the anus it secreted a little bit of liquid that felt like gel so Cameron assumed it was lubrication, and then it really started, the machine started apply more pressure to open up the sphincter muscle, and it did, it finally reached the point where the anus couldn’t stay closed and the head popped right in and Cameron felt like something he never knew he could feel, it hurt a lot as it worked its way inside but it felt so good at the same time, it pried open his hole because of how wide the tube was but Cameron was enjoying and for a moment even thought, “Maybe this isn’t so bad,” a thought that quickly vanished as he felt the tube go deeper and deeper, it only hurt at the anus but he certainly felt it in his insides as it straightened the curves in his colon onto it until he was shocked to see it start to show as it protruded through his abs, and it protruded more and more till it finally stopped, it was pushing out onto his skin a full inch if not a little bit more, it didn’t hurt or feel like it hurt him in any ways but it was very incredible, Cameron sighed a sigh of relief since he thought the worst was over, but how wrong he was. A few minutes went by and nothing happened, but then out of nowhere he heard a machine start to make sound, it sounded like a pump to be exact, and he felt a little vibration inside from the tube he had in his abdomen, he knew something else was going to happen. And that’s when it really started. He saw body builder number 2 to his left side twitch slightly, and then the calf of the man suddenly shrunk down to just skin and bones! He gasped, it was unbelievable, the man’s huge left calf muscle, which looked to be at least 54cm (21inches) suddenly deflated, but then he noticed the tube that went into the man’s anus engorge at the anus, it was carrying a lump and transported it up until he couldn’t see it anymore, after a few seconds suddenly a lump appeared at the base of the tube that went inside Cameron “what is that?….” he thought to himself and the lump moved up the tube and it went inside him and he saw it then come the head that he could clearly see through his abdomen and the lump moved down his left leg and where his calf was and then suddenly engorged to four times the size of the lump in an very painful wave which made him cringe but he noticed suddenly he had developed calves that were about 41cm big (6 inches) and that’s when it hit him, the lump was the man’s calf and it transported it to his own body, albeit some of the size is lost in the process, then he noticed 4 other lumps consecutively show up moving up the tube and into his ass, which aroused him more as each one penetrated him, then he saw them come out the head of the tube into his abdomen and he watched as they started moving towards his left leg again under his skin, when he raised his head and looked at the legs of the other body builders he noticed they had all lost all the muscle mass in their left lower legs, and when he turned his view back to his left leg it was just as the 4 lumps merged and with a wave of pain started fusing and becoming his own muscle, the pain was like that of having a bone broken but localised to where the muscle was being absorbed only while at the same time feeling like having multiple orgasms one after another. It made Cameron grind his teeth and arch back with a tear flowing out of his eye, and his cock so hard and going wild ripped right through his compression shorts to full mast! And as the wave of pain and arousal subsided after about 6 seconds (the longest of his entire life) he was left breathing heavily and sweating profusely, then he looked down to be amazed at what happened, there was his left lower leg, with a 76cm (30inch) mass of muscle, he was amazed, awestruck by the sheer size, the striated muscle fibres visible through the skin, and the large bulging pumped up veins that covered it, it made his cock rage like a wild animal. It was beautiful. But as he was preoccupied admiring the beauty that had become part of his body the machine seemed to pick up the pace and started working faster. The sound of the machine working faster finally got Cam’s attention, as he looked up at the men he saw body builder 1 through 4 had deflated left upper legs, and as he reached body builder 5 he saw his left upper leg suddenly deflate too, all his thigh muscles just disappeared and he noticed the lump again exit his body through the tube, then he saw it start happening to the man’s right lower leg, then upper leg, and as he turned around it had happened to the other men as well, he knew what was coming next and he feared it yet desperately wanted to go through with it, the voice in his head that told him he wanted it had grown louder and louder and was overpowering the fear. Then the lumps started appearing, 4 of them in a file came up the tube and flowed into his asshole, arousing him and making his cock jerk, he saw them then protrude through his abdomen and start making their way to his left upper leg where they merged and again a surge of pain and pleasure flooded his system driving him wild as the muscle expanded and became part of his body, but Cam’s desire for the muscle was making him bare the pain so he could watch the wonderful thing that was happening to his body, his fear almost entirely subdued by the erotic desire to have those muscles. Cameron’s eyes were marvelled at what he saw, the muscle expanded and became his now 109cm (43 inch) left thigh, the sight made him reach orgasm and he cummed all over himself with more cum the he had ever seen before, then even though still partially lost in the pleasure more lumps appeared and started making their way to his right lower legs, then more lumps and at a faster rate started appearing, going to his upper legs, lower legs, left glute, right glute, each of his 8 individual abs, Apollo’s belt, left then his right pec, forearms, biceps, triceps, lats, delts, traps, each time making the muscle, or arms or legs contract with the expanding muscles. Every single individual muscle group, one after another, he saw as the muscles disappeared off of the bodies of the once body builders around him and come into his body and start being absorbed by him, every surge of unbelievable pain, every wave of erotic pleasure, he came again, and again, and again as the pleasure was unbearable as he saw his body parts engorge with monstrous mass, the muscle inflating like balloons, the muscle fibres showing through the paper-thin stretched skin, the veins growing, engorging and spreading all over his muscles, thickening with blood and testosterone from those 5 men, it was a sight to behold. When Cameron finally managed to came back to his senses after the thrill ride of pleasure he took, he was, needless to say, overjoyed by his body, muscles with size beyond what any mister Olympia could ever dream of achieving, veins as thick as ropes spread all over his muscles protruding and pulsating with blood, feeding them, all glistening from all the cum he shot over himself which only made his body more attractive, and the compression shorts you ask? Nowhere to be seen, they had exploded off of his engorging muscled body with only a few tatters stuck under his enormous glutes. Cameron was more than amazed and he was especially enjoying the huge veins that appear all over his muscles, he was covered in them, and they were massive and pulsated with testosterone, and the clearly visible muscle fibres that were clear as day to the eye, he loved it with all his might, but the ride wasn’t over just yet….. While Cam appreciated his new given body he noticed something weird start happening, the five tanks holding the now anorexic looking men that were once beautiful examples of muscle at its best. The five men started dissolving into the liquid and the liquid changed from transparent to a really thick-looking white almost gel-like substance. Then he heard an automated sounding voice from the computer say ‘DNA impregnation complete, beginning stage 2’ “WHAT? I’ve only gone through stage one yet, after all of this?!” he exclaimed, when he saw two much larger bulges move up the pipe that went inside of him, they were coming together in a pair, one next to each other and he felt them stop right at his anus, he then turned his attention up above his head where he heard rattling and as he turned his eyes upwards he saw the pipe dangling from above with the weird attachment, which was just like the cock head attachment the one inside him has, start moving down. He was again afraid yet again uncertain of what might happen next, his heart racing, and him body sweating profusely yet again. He tried to move his head since the pipe was coming straight down at his face when the band which had previously retracted appeared again and held his forehead firmly down, there was no avoiding it. The cockhead shaped nozzle of the tube touched Cam’s lips after it made its way down next to Cam’s head then up again to meet his mouth which he refused to open and allow it to enter, so the pressure increased more and more and his lips finally gave way, the long, thick, rubbery tube made its way into his mouth, reach the back of his throat, but before his gag reflects could even kick in it made its way down his throat and it kept going down, more and more as he saw more of it disappear in front of him into his mouth, he guessed he had swallowed about 30cm (1 foot) of it before it stopped, then like in unison both machines started doing something…… The one that had violated his now rock hard bubble ass and protruded through his now steel cut solid 8-pack abs started retreating from his ass, he was relieved thinking the approximately 40cm (16 inches) of tube that was inside of him was finally leaving his body, but as the head was just about to leave his hole, the machine re-adjusted itself to a more pronounced 90° angle and started making its way back inside, until it reached the base of Cam’s hard cock with a painful pressure, then the pressure increased and it hurt more and more, then he felt a really hot sensation in his crotch like he was in a hot bath, and although in pain he saw something amazing, the tube’s cockhead started expanding and entering the base of his cock, his eyes couldn’t believe it, as he bit his lips from the pain, but he wouldn’t stop looking at what was happening, it made its way painfully up the shaft stretching it to the 14cm (5 inch) circumference of the tube, and he saw the thicker and wider head leading the way, stretching and engorging it until it reach and stretched the 7inch cockhead of Cam’s penis, then the pain increased as it started stretched longer, and longer, it went on and on but it did so while sending waves of pleasure to Cam’s brain, it was delicious, it stretched to a full rock hard, massive length of 40cm (16inches) then stopped when the two large bulges, each about the size of an orange, were absorbed into the ball sack, and as it was absorbed, ropes of veins grew onto them and he started feeling the breeze on his stiff hot dick, it had become part of his body as well Cameron realised in a disbelieving yet still joyous shock. This huge, thick, hot, hard piece of man meat, was all his, he jerked it to see if it was true and it jerked, it was more than he ever dreamed off. The rest of the tube that was behind the huge bulges that became his balls, retreated outside to their original position next to the needle. That’s when a different noise caught Cam’s attention “There is still more?” he thought to himself, but without any fear now, he was now determined to see this through, this accident had given him the muscles and the cock he could only ever dream off, he wants it all now and he going to thoroughly enjoy it. It seems the muscles and cock not only enhanced his body but also his ego had been boosted up, and he liked it. Then he noticed the white liquid that formed from the men who were once in the tanks starting draining, the level was going down inside the tanks, when he felt the tube that went down his throat start vibrating a little and so he looked up. He saw through the transparent tube a white liquid moved downwards in the tube and it went into his mouth and he felt the flow of the liquid through his throat and as it pumped out into his chest, and he felt something strange, but in his pecs, so he looked at them and saw them swelling and pulsating and it plunge him into an orgasmic thrill ride of pleasure, it was a magnificent sensation, and he arched back from how erotic it felt while his mammoth dick jerked up and down. The tube kept pumping the liquid inside of him and into his pecs and the pecs swelled to twice their size then stop swelling but kept contracting with every massive pump into them, and Cam’s from the corner of his eye even though he was barely able to think from the pleasure he was in could see the tanks slowly drain empty, which took he could only guess was around half an hour, half an hour of toe curling, orgasmic bliss, when it started to subside he was surprised he managed to stay sane after en experience like that, and slowly the pleasure started dying down and the pumps became less intense, which is when he finally noticed that his pecs did not shrink down, but stayed at the doubled size, and looked gorgeously tight and hard, but his nipples had grown to almost triple their thickness and protruded more than 2 cm (1 inch) now and were as stiff as a hot cock. As he admired them he felt the tube retreating from him and as the head left his mouth the last bit of the liquid that was left in the tube, about a litre, pour into his mouth filling it up and then pour all over his face, and it tasted like warm, deliciously sweet and salty honey as he swallowed it down, and he recognised the smell and knew it right away that it was steamy cum, he never tasted it before or anything that tasted as delicious, it was all over his rosy lips and felt good on his face. At the same time the part of the table holding his legs up in the air lowered back down, and as it did he was regaining the feeling back in his legs and arms, and he tried to move, and he did, he managed to get off of the table and the first thing he could bring himself to do was touch himself, touch himself all over, feel the muscles up, grasp his beastly pecs and dig his fingers into the solid flesh, slide his fingers over the striations on his legs, to pas his hand over his marble abs, to feel up the ropes of veins on his 40 cm (16 inch) cock, to grope his massive balls bigger than a baseball each. All of this massively aroused him which is when he felt his chest and abs start getting wet and he looked down at his shelf-like pecs and saw something fantastic, cum was coming out of his nipples in a stream, and grabbed his left pec and squeezed and a long squirt came out of it, more than 10 times as cum in that squirt then in a regular man’s ejaculation. He squeezed again this time catching the cum and he doesn’t know why but an almost euphoric hunger came from within him for that cum and licked it all clean off of his hand, and it was delicious, so he squeezed again, and again, and again, licking it up each time, and each time the quantity increased until every squirt released about half a cup of cum, yet his pecs didn’t shrink down, nor did it feel like it was running out of cum, it just kept producing more until it satisfied his hunger. As he finished up his meal Cameron looked to the stairs for a way out, to go out into the world as a new man, and enjoy every moment of his new life. His new life of monstrous muscles, that no man would ever be able to match or surpass again, and to be the epitome of lust, beauty and strength. The End........ ?
  18. A Twist on My New Year’s Resolution

    Short Story - A Twist on My New Year’s Resolution Please feel free to tell me what you think! I am planning on writing other stories, and maybe a sequel to this one if people want it. Hope you enjoy it! Okay, just hear me out. I know everyone always makes a New Year’s Resolution, usually fitness related, but never meet them. I understand that the gym gets full of people trying to get in the best shape of their lives at the start of the year…for a few weeks at most. But I’m different, I’m going to do it; my name is Drew and my New Year’s Resolution is to go to the gym and get ripped as fuck. Being skinny all of my life has not made things easy for me, especially during my first year of college. I’ve never really been popular, and if we’re being honest, I haven’t even kissed or had sex with anyone. My friends have always been pretty nerdy and geeky too, but don’t get me wrong, I like them all, I was just hoping for something different in college. Sadly, nothing has changed during my freshman year, except for the fact that I’ve gotten even more jealous. I’m tired of watching the hot muscular guys on my floor get with whoever they want whenever they want. My roommate, who isn’t even that big, has already been with like 10 different people. I’m forced to sleep over at my friend’s dorm every Saturday night, while my roommate is having his way with some hottie. I’m honestly sick and tired of it…but I have a plan. I am going to get some muscle on my body if it’s the last thing I do. Every day after class I am going to get myself into the campus gym, and I’m just going to work at it until I can’t anymore. I laid out my plan for my friends and they just laughed in my face. After I got over my initial anger, it actually just motivated me more and more. Leading up to New Year’s Eve it was all I could think about. I wanted to be muscular, I wished I could finally have sex, I needed a body that others would envy and drool over. The thoughts raced through my head, making me so horny, so turned on. Then, New Year’s Eve came. I was forced to attend my family’s New Year’s Party as I had no other plans. I didn’t care for it though, all I could think about was waking up tomorrow, driving back to my college, and heading to the gym. As my family watched the ball drop at midnight all I could do was wish to myself that I would get huge this year. But, after hanging around for a little while longer, it was time for bed. As I woke up the next day I had one of the worst headaches I’ve ever had, and my body felt so heavy. I was so annoyed that I might have to miss my first day at the gym, but it was honestly so hard to get out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Then, it hit me…as I looked in the mirror I almost didn’t recognize who was looking back at me. The first thing I noticed was that I was taller and now hosting a sexy and strong jawline. But then, I looked down, to find that my shirt and pants were almost bursting at the seams. My jaw almost fell to the ground…I couldn’t believe what was happening. The first thing I did was start to rub my right bicep through my shirt. Without even flexing I could feel that my bicep was now rock solid muscle. But then as I flexed it I heard my shirt rip, and through that I could see the giant bicep popping out through the sleeve. Amazed, I proceeded to do a double bicep pose in front of the mirror, which was too much for my shirt to handle. Drool trickled down my chin as I watched the shreds of my shirt fall to the ground, revealing my new muscled body in all of its glory. Along with my huge biceps I now had massive pecs, which I couldn’t help but bounce. First the right one and then the left one, and then together, again and again…fuck I was so turned on. Then, I focused on my abs, abs that looked like they had been chiseled out of marble. I had to play with each and every one of my six new abs giving each on personal attention. I couldn’t believe that this was my new body, the body of a god among men. Unable to control myself any further I ripped my pants off, revealing tree trunk like legs and a dick begging to be taken care of. I took my right hand and started to frantically stroke my cock as my other hand rubbed all of my muscles. I began by flexing my abs and pecs while my hand felt up every corner of my upper body. Then, as a started to moan and breath heavily, I went to massage my other bicep that was expanding as I stroked faster…fuck I’m close. As I started to play with my giant legs my cock released endless streams of cum all over the bathroom floor. I was experiencing some greatest pleasure in my life, but I needed more, my cock needed more. I ran back into my room and as I looked around I grabbed a pillow and jumped onto the bed. Fucking a pillow had always been a go too way for me to masturbate, but with my new muscles it was a completely different experience. As I knelt down on the bed with my amazingly muscled ass sticking up, I placed the pillow in front of my dick. Then I just went at it, uncontrollably fucking that pillow as hard as I could. With every thrust I went faster and faster, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. The entire bed shaking and hitting the wall in rhythm as my cock went in and out of the pillow. My entire body flexing as the sweat made each of my giant muscles glisten. My pecs, my biceps, my abs…wow I must have looked like a fucking sex god. I felt more powerful then I had ever before, so strong that the pillow could barely even handle a quarter of my new found strength. I shortly realized that the pillow was beginning to rip apart in my hands. I laughed to myself a little but the thought of not knowing my own strength was honestly turning me on so much. As I started to use a third of strength to fuck the pillow the feathers started to burst out all over the bed. I had been such a weakling before this and now just a fraction of my strength—my own godly physique—actually fucked a pillow to shreds. But I needed to finish, and this pillow was not going to do it anymore. Throwing the remaining pieces of the pillow off the bed I leaned over to my nightstand and grabbed some lotion. Feeling up my rock hard pecs and rubbing my nipples, I started to aggressively stroke my cock. Getting close I moved to flexing my huge sweaty muscles as I rubbed my dick faster and harder. My moaning and heavy breathing got even louder as I continually brought myself closer and closer to the edge. Before I knew it my cock was exploding with even more cum then in the bathroom again and again and again. Once it looked like my dick was done I fell back onto my bed dripping with sweat. After such an ordeal I thought I would be exhausted but it looked like this body could take far more than what I just did. As I laid on the bed imagining everything sexy and terrible naughty thing I could do with my body I realized that this was only half of my New Year’s Resolution. It was time to get up and give this body the training at the gym that it deserved. I needed to get even more ripped, even stronger, and even more of a fucking god. I quickly got up, took a shower, and put on some workout clothes, which barely fit over my massive muscles but looked sexy as fuck on me. What took me even longer was cleaning up the huge mess that this real man’s body of mine had made, but I honestly felt like I had a few more rounds in me. With my family still fast asleep, I got into the car to head to the gym for the workout of a lifetime. But I couldn’t help but think about what everyone was going to say about my new body. It was time to show off, have fun, and be the sex machine that I was meant to be. I was especially interested in showing off to my nerdy friends who didn’t believe me…oh were they in for a surprise. As I began to drive away all I could do was laugh to myself as I made my monster sized pecs bounce up and down through my shirt, stretching it to its limits. God, this semester was going to be insane…
  19. 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".
  20. Acting Out

    Damon was up against a hard deadline at work when he felt the vibration in his pocket. The brochure design was due by the end of the day, so he really didn't have a spare moment to chat on the phone. Still, he should at least check to see who was calling. Slipping the iPhone from his pocket, he saw the name "Quinn Brooks" and Quinn's excruciatingly handsome face. Damon didn't often get calls from Quinn -- Damon was usually the one reaching out to "bother" Quinn -- so he figured it must be urgent. He raised the phone to his ear while continuing to work one-handed. "What's up, Quinn?" "I need your help. I've got an audition for a soap tomorrow and I'm really freaking out about it. You're the only person I could think of to call." Quinn did indeed sound stressed, which was unusual. Quinn tended to be the most easygoing person that Damon knew. "Calm down. I'm in the middle of a project here, but I should be done by six. Where can I meet you?" "Just come to my apartment. Really appreciate it, man." Quinn hung up. Damon went back to work, but his work on the brochure was decidedly half-assed as he wondered what could be bothering Quinn so much. At 5:59, Damon saved his file, emailed it to his boss and headed out the door. As the sluggish rush-hour traffic betwen Brentwood and Hollywood redefined the word "rush", Damon couldn't stop thinking about Quinn. They had met in college working on a production of "A Streetcar Named Desire". Damon, a senior studying graphic design, worked behind the scenes, helping with the sets and costumes and also creating the poster for the show, while Quinn, a junior theater major, played the Brando role of Stanley Kowalski. Quinn definitely had the magnetism and physicality for the role, gifted as he was with a hard-edged masculine face and a naturally muscular body that required little upkeep at the gym. But as Damon observed the early rehearsals, he wasn't sure Quinn would cut it. Quinn was so good-natured, friendly and low-key, it seemed impossible that he could find within himself the anger and menace it took to bring Stanley to life. Only when Quinn started trying on costumes did he start to find his performance. When he was just Quinn Brooks, big man on campus, standing on that stage in a polo shirt, chinos and Nikes, he was just a lackluster guy reading lines. But once he put on vintage tweed slacks with suspenders and a too-snug tank top, things began to click. Some Oxford shoes that his grandfather had worn which he found in the attic back home made him feel more grounded. Switching from wearing his usual briefs to period-appropriate boxer shorts made him feel more authentically like Stanley. Whoever said "clothes make the man" was dead right in this case, while lack of clothes brought out the animal. The director was aiming for a look close to Brando's in the film version, with Quinn wearing a soiled and torn tank top during the famous "Stella!!!" scene, but Quinn discovered in rehearsal that he could better tap into the character if he tore the shirt off completely. It was a wardrobe choice which was thoroughly appreciated by most of the women and many of the men involved in the production, including Damon who was still deeply closeted at the time. The fact that Quinn wasn't a gym rat meant he didn't have the deeply cut abs that were commonplace on campus, but even that made him look more authentic to the period setting. Damon was impressed: even Quinn's body was part of the costume. For the final touch, he dyed his blond hair black and trimmed it short, until Quinn essentially disappeared. He had become Stanley Kowalski. Audiences were floored by Quinn's performance, in which he tapped into a side of himself he hadn't previously known he had. At the party after opening night, Quinn was back to his usual amiable self, surrounded with well-wishers gushing praise over his performance. With the help of several glasses of red wine, Damon worked up the courage to speak to Quinn and tell him how impressed he was. Quinn could not have been more gracious or more generous with his time, complimenting Damon on the great work he'd done on the sets and costumes and poster. Damon couldn't fathom that Quinn actually knew who he was. Damon felt that his shyness served like personality camouflage, preventing others from noticing he was even in the room with them. Damon mentioned that he was planning to move to Los Angeles after his graduation in the spring. Quinn said he was debating whether it would be better to move to New York or Hollywood to pursue a career when he graduated. "Well, if you move to L.A., be sure to look me up!", Damon said. "You can count on it," replied Quinn with a wide grin. Damon backed away awkwardly, straight into a table with bottles of booze and a streetcar-shaped sheet cake. Catching himself, his right hand landed directly in the thick frosting of the cake. He offered his goop-covered hand in friendship, which Quinn good-naturedly shook, and they both had a good laugh as they went into the kitchen to wash their hands clean. They saw each other from time to time around campus after that, although they didn't run in the same social circles, mainly because Quinn had social circles and Damon didn't. Only after Damon moved to Los Angeles and knew that he absolutely wouldn't be encountering anyone he already knew did he begin to explore his sexuality anywhere but online. But when he went out to clubs, he still seemed to be wearing that camouflage of anonymity that had cloaked him in college. He was thin and youthful, but not thin and youthful enough to attract the twink aficionados. He joined a gym and began to work out for the first time in his life, putting on a thin layer of muscle, but not enough to draw much attention amid a crowd of West Hollywood beefcake. He got an entry-level position designing pamphlets and web pages for a non-profit, found a studio apartment in WeHo that ate up the bulk of his salary, and spent most of his weekend afternoons browsing through obscure shops around town, looking for cheap eclectic items to furnish his tiny room. After a year in L.A., Damon was absolutely shocked to get a call from Quinn, saying he was moving to Hollywood to pursue his craft. Damon could not believe that Quinn was following up on a half-drunken pledge he'd made at a party well over a year earlier. It made him admire Quinn even more. Damon asked where Quinn was planning to live, and Quinn replied that he was hoping to get some advice on that from Damon, since he didn't know anyone else who lived in Los Angeles. Damon felt a little less special after hearing that, convinced that if Quinn knew even one other person in town, they would have received this call and Damon would have been forgotten. But screw that, Quinn did call him, so he boldly suggested that Quinn camp out in his apartment while he looked for a place of his own. "I couldn't impose on you like that, man." "Not a problem at all," Damon insisted as he looked around the cramped apartment that already made him claustrophobic as its sole resident. Quinn arrived in town several days later, his possessions narrowed down to a pile of clothes on hangers laid across the back seat of his convertible, his shaggy blond hair tossed by the breeze en route. When Quinn saw the size of Damon's place, he knew he would get in Damon's way and offered to go find himself a motel, but Damon refused to hear it. "When you start getting on my nerves, I'll let you know." Moving Quinn's belongings into the tiny apartment took a grand total of three minutes, after which they went to grab a bite at Hamburger Mary's on Santa Monica Boulevard. Damon noticed some stiffness in Quinn's body language as he realized how many of the pedestrians and the patrons of the restaurant were pretty clearly gay. Damon had never sensed a whiff of homophobia on Quinn's part at college, but it was a fairly small college in a relatively conservative state. Quinn wasn't so much unnerved as overwhelmed, as if he had cracked open the door of his black-and-white house and was taking his first step into a Technicolor Oz. "So, is this like the gay part of town, or is all of L.A. like this?", Quinn asked with genuine curiosity as he wolfed down his Barbra-Q Bacon Burger (which he had attempted to order by just pointing to the menu, until the waiter forced him to say it out loud). "We're pretty close to Gay Central Station here." "And you like living right in the thick of it?" Damon's stomach quivered and his pulse went into arrythmia for a second as he mulled what to say. He had yet to come out to his family or to anyone he knew prior to moving to L.A., but if this was who he really was, he had to live it. He thought of saying something earnest or defiant, but he figured a lighter approach would work better. "The thicker the better," he smirked and raised his eyebrows, watching Quinn closely for a reaction. Quinn took a long swig of beer and fixed his sparkling blue eyes on Damon. He lowered the bottle with a nod. "Yeah, I kinda had you figured for that." "You don't have a problem with that, do you?" Quinn laughed. "I just got a theater degree and I want to be an actor. If gays freaked me out, I picked the wrong fuckin' job." That night, Damon pushed his luck and dragged Quinn to Rage, a gay nightclub. If Damon thought he was wearing camouflage before, entering a gay club with Quinn Brooks by your side was like wearing an invisibility cloak. Quinn definitely got an ego boost from all the guys coming over to ask him to dance (or more), but he bet he set the world record for saying the words "straight" and "girlfriend" in twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Damon nursed a Seven and Seven and contented himself with hovering anonymously near so many horny, sweaty hunks and vicariously wishing all their come-ons were coming his way. Eventually Quinn turned to Damon and shouted "Let's get outta here" over the pounding disco music. On the sidewalk, it felt twenty degrees cooler. Quinn's eyes were wide, like he'd just narrowly escaped being gored at the Running of the Bulls. "Is that what it's like all the time?", he asked Damon. "Yeah, that's pretty much a normal night for me." Damon offered his house guest the futon, but Quinn wouldn't hear of it, using his sleeping bag instead. Quinn went to pains to make sure he wasn't interfering with Damon's routine, although seeing a shirtless Quinn shaving every morning was a disruption Damon didn't complain about. Within a week, Quinn had landed a job as a waiter. Within ten days, he had found an apartment which was bigger and cost less than Damon's. They saw each other occasionally, usually when Damon thought there was a play or movie or band that Quinn might appreciate, but Quinn was usually waiting tables in the evening and had to pass. The last time Damon had received a call from Quinn was two months ago, inviting Damon and a guest to come to opening night of a play Quinn was doing in North Hollywood. Damon couldn't find a date -- or even a beard -- and ended up giving the spare ticket to a young woman in the standby line. She was pleasant but monosyllabic waiting for the opening curtain, but when Damon mentioned at intermission that he was friends with the guy playing the lead role, the woman became chatty as all get-out, peppering him with questions about Quinn which only ended when the curtain opened for act two. The woman, whose name was Renee, came along with Damon to the after-party and was hanging on Quinn's arm by the end of the night. Two weeks later, Quinn had dumped his girlfriend back home and Renee was spending her nights at Quinn's place. As far as Damon knew, they were still dating, but perhaps they had broken up. Maybe that's why Quinn had called today, reaching out to an old friend -- okay, marginal acquaintance -- for counsel as he nursed a broken heart. But even if Quinn hadn't managed to make other friends in his short time in L.A., surely any stranger he grabbed randomly off the street could offer more wisdom on romantic matters than Damon could. Damon pulled onto Quinn's shady street and checked the myriad of parking regulation signs, trying to figure out if it was legal for him to park in this neighborhood. Convinced that he could, he ran to Quinn's apartment and knocked on the door. "Co-ome i-in," sang an off-key attempt at a soprano voice from within. Damon swung open the unlocked door and was surprised to discover Quinn pacing in the living room, covered in flop-sweat and wearing a bizarre mixture of clothing. His hair was haphazardly bobby-pinned into something that in no way resembled an actual hairdo. He wore a linen sportscoat with a Chicago Bulls jersey underneath, checkerboard-pattern bicycle shorts and a pair of muddy workboots. Quinn was flushed with relief at seeing Damon. "Thank god you're here. I gotta be gay! You gotta help me!" He clomped over and hugged Damon, transferring a substantial amount of his sweat onto Damon's gray silk shirt. "What to you mean you've gotta be gay?", asked Damon. Quinn picked up a script from his futon and handed it to Damon. "This audition tomorrow. It's for a recurring role in a soap, which'd be huge for me, but the character they want me to play is gay and I don't know how to play it." "Play it like a normal person." Quinn shook his head. "You don't understand. I gotta feel like I'm seeing through this guy's eyes. I don't know how to look at another guy from a gay guy's perspective." "Sure you do," said Damon calmly. "Just look at the guy the same way you look at Renee." Quinn wasn't being persuaded. He looked distraught as he checked out his reflection in the mirror. "I was thinking if I could just find the right look, the character would come to me, but..." Damon shook his head as he looked at what Quinn was wearing. "You have met gay people before, right? You know we don't dress like we escaped from a mental ward." "I know, I know. I was just trying anything. I woulda tried on some of Renee's dresses, but I'm way too big for 'em." Damon stopped cold and leveled a glare at Quinn. "You also know we don't all wear dresses, right?" "YES!", Quinn insisted. "What you're seeing is the result of two extra hours of desperation because you couldn't get here right away!" "Sue me, I work for a living! Why couldn't Renee help you?" "She's shooting a commercial in Baja. She'll be gone for four days." "Okay, just calm down. We'll get through this." Damon began to remove the bobby-pins from Quinn's hair and asked, "So, describe this character to me so I can get a sense of what he should wear." Quinn grabbed the script and scanned the highlighted stage directions. "His name's Alexander and he's the black sheep of the family who was ostrich-ized..." Damon corrected, "Ostracized." "Ostracized...when his father discovered he was gay. Actually, he was apparently...ostracized...from the show 'cause he thought he deserved a raise. But now they want to bring his character back." "And there are no actual gay actors in Hollywood they could hire?" "My agent says I look a lot like the guy who played him the first time, so he thinks I got a real good chance at it." "So? There's your answer. Dress like the other guy did." "I tried that, but that guy used to just wear regular business suits, and putting on my own suits just felt like...like me wearing a suit. Plus, apparently they're writing him a lot more flamboyant now and I don't have a clue how to be flamboyant. That's why I called you." Damon glanced down at his gray shirt and charcoal pants. "Oh, yeah, you're talking to the male Lady Gaga right here. Go put on some normal clothes and we'll go shopping." Quinn nodded eagerly and walked into the bathroom to change. He leaned out, asking, "Sir Gaga?" "What?" "Wouldn't the male Lady Gaga be Sir Gaga?" Damon waved a get-a-move-on gesture and tried not to stare too blatantly at Quinn as he stripped down. * * * As Quinn drove frantically toward Melrose Boulevard, Damon sat in the passenger seat, scanning through Quinn's script. "This writing is terrible. None of it rings true. This guy Alexander is swishy one minute and butch the next. No wonder you were dressed like you just grabbed random items from the clothes dryer." "I just need to get a fix on who I think Alexander is. If I can nail the audition, then I'll worry about getting them to write the character better." Damon pointed to a parking spot in front of a quirky clothing store he liked to browse. Quinn screeched into the spot, pissing off another driver who was getting ready to back into the same space. Quinn shouted at the other driver, "Sorry! Sorry! Acting crisis!" Quinn looked berserk, the wind having buffeted his hair into a crazed mess as the convertible sped here. Damon led Quinn into the musty smelling shop. They were the only customers, and the older woman managing the register looked surprised to have any visitors at all. Quinn searched frantically through the racks of clothes in his size, trying on one vintage jacket after another, displeased with them all. "Not gay enough." Damon shook his head, amused but increasingly irritated. He was generally so fond of Quinn but couldn't believe how narrow his views were, as if there were only one kind of gay personality or fashion. He watched as Quinn pulled off his t-shirt, revealing pumped pecs and shallow but distinct ab muscles. Clearly Quinn's carefree attitude toward exercise had changed, and Damon couldn't say he disapproved. Trying not to seem TOO interested, Damon casually asked, "You been working out?" "Yeah, agent said I looked too doughy. Apparently, if they can't count your ab muscles on two hands these days, nobody's gonna cast you." Quinn pulled a multicolored vest over his bare torso and evaluated the look. He cringed. "Too gay." Damon felt like he was watching Quinn perform a one-man show of "Goldilocks", where everything was "too gay" or "too straight", but nothing was "just right". (They'd have to go back to cruising Rage later to find three bears.) After Quinn rejected a few of Damon's suggestions, Damon turned in light-hearted frustration to the old woman at the back of the shop. "Do you have a 'gay' section for my friend here? Maybe something in a size Gay?" Quinn swatted Damon's shoulder. "This probably seems silly to you, but it's my process, okay?" The woman behind the counter gestured for the men to approach. The old woman's eyes were drawn to Quinn, but Damon had finally quit fretting about his non-entity status in Quinn's presence. That Quinn was now shirtless and more built than ever only made Damon fade further into the background. "This might sound stupid, but I need something that'll make me feel...gay," Quinn told the old woman. She smiled wistfully. "When I was a girl, a nice new hat used to make me feel gay." Oh god, Damon thought, this was a terrible idea. Now we're about to be treated to this woman's history of how word meanings changed throughout the twentieth century. But instead, she reached under the counter and pulled out a wooden jewelry box. She opened it to display a collection of various rings. She studied them, then selected one with a silver band and a single black stone. She handed it to Quinn, saying "I think this will help you get what you desire." Damon seemed unsure that this simple ring screamed "gay", but Quinn shrugged his recently renovated shoulders and said, "You never know what'll give you the key to your character." He studied it and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes. "This isn't one of those mood rings, is it? My dad told me he had one back in the Seventies. The color of the stone changed to show what your mood was." "Very similar principle," the old woman nodded. "Go ahead, put it on." Quinn slid it onto his left ring finger. He liked how it felt. The metal weight in an unfamiliar place gave him an immediate sense of otherness, like he wasn't just wearing a piece of jewelry but was wearing part of a different person, a new character. He looked closely at the stone and could detect a slight swirling in the darkness which settled into a deep, dark blue. "Huh, what do you know? It turned blue a little. What does that mean?" He placed his hand on the counter so the shopkeeper could examine the stone. She peered through squinted eyes, then glanced over her bifocals at Quinn and said, "That means you're a little gay." Quinn laughed uneasily, which made Damon cackle hysterically. He kidded Quinn, "Don't worry, sweetie, everyone's a little gay." But truthfully, as long as you set aside the fact that Quinn was an actor, Damon had never met anyone as comfortable in his heterosexuality as Quinn, and the straight women in the theater department always appreciated that Quinn was the one exception to the "all the good ones are gay" rule. Hearing Damon speak, the woman turned to him, almost as if she had just realized he was there. "Are you two a couple?" Quinn shook his head and waved his hands, saying, "No, no, no, no, no." Damon felt a little insulted. "Five no's? Could you be a little more emphatic there, buddy?" Quinn started to apologize when the woman pulled an identical ring from the jewelry box and handed it to Damon. "You try." Curious but a little scared, Damon slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. If Quinn's ring said he was "a little gay", Damon's ring would probably start shooting out rainbows and sparkles and unicorns while blasting "It's Raining Men". But after letting the mysterious liquid inside the stone swirl and settle, Damon's ring turned only a slightly brighter shade of blue than Quinn's. He held it out for the woman to evaluate. "This can't be right." "Oh, no, it's right," she assured him. "It's always right." Damon stared at the blue gem curiously, while Quinn flexed his hand repeatedly, getting a feel for the ring's weight. He told the woman, "It kind of grows on you." She nodded sagely. "I'll take it," Quinn said, pulling out his wallet. Damon was starting to pull off his ring, but Quinn stopped him. "Keep it, man. It looks good on you." Damon felt funny about it. "Won't it be kinda weird, you and me wearing matching rings?" "I'm only wearing mine for the audition. I'm serious, let me buy that for you. It matches your eyes." Damon was surprised and even a little turned on that Quinn had noticed the color of his eyes. Then again, actors were good at studying other people. Damon shook it off. Quinn got his change and thanked the woman behind the counter for her help. "Do you need anything else?", she asked. Pulling his t-shirt back on, Quinn glanced around the store and said, "No, I think I'm good." He stepped outside, with a puzzled Damon at his heels. "That's it? You buy one ring and you've got the character?" "No, but I don't think I need more clothes to do it." Quinn leapt energetically into the driver's seat and noticed the flyaway mess that his hair had become. "But I gotta fix this hair. Alexander wouldn't have this haircut. Where's there a good hair stylist?" Damon had never gone anywhere more stylish than Fantastic Sams, but he had a feeling Quinn needed something a bit more specialized. Damon searched on his iPhone for nearby salons while Quinn drove. Damon found one place on Santa Monica Boulevard that was still open, so he gave Quinn driving directions. Quinn was driving with his left arm propped in his open window, showing off the definition of his biceps and triceps as they emerged from his t-shirt sleeve. Quinn could swear he was noticing a lot more guys staring at him, and Quinn was someone who was used to being stared at. He even waved at a few as he passed. Seemed like what Alexander would do. When they arrived at the salon, the guy behind the counter with a shaved head, a septum ring and gauged earlobes looked too exhausted to deal with another customer, but when he looked up to see Quinn's smiling, hopeful face, he began to change his mind. Quinn explained that he desperately needed his hair styled for an audition in the morning. He even put his hand atop the counterman's pale slender hand which was splayed on the counter. Wow, thought Damon, he's really laying on the charm. And it worked. Soon Quinn was seated in a chair and getting his hair shampooed. The stylist glanced across the room at Damon, who was slumped in a chair, flipping idly through Frontiers magazine. "You gonna want a cut too?", asked the stylist. "No, I'm fine," said Damon. The stylist disagreed with that assessment of Damon's pedestrian haircut, with an indistinct part and uneven strands of lackluster brown hair straggling over his ears, but he said nothing and turned back to scrubbing Quinn's lush mane. Once it was washed, Quinn moved back to a barber's chair and stared at his reflection, his long hair wet and stringy, falling past his eyes. The stylist asked what Quinn was looking for. "I need something bold. Something that'll grab your attention, but won't look too radical for a guy in a business suit. What's that one where it's all kinda scrunched up in the middle?" "A fauxhawk?", replied the stylist. "Yeah, I want one of those." Damon looked up from his magazine, surprised. Quinn had been so casual, so lacking in vanity about his appearance in college. Quinn was plenty hot without bothering with fancy technology like, ya know, a comb. Still, Damon could imagine how sexy Quinn would look with a fauxhawk. It was even giving him a chubby. He had a bad habit of being attracted to straight boys, and Quinn had always been his kryptonite. He knew that it was futile and self-sabotaging to allow himself to muse about relationships that could never happen. Yet he found himself lost in Quinn's reflection in the mirror as the stylist set to work. Quinn was also getting aroused as chunks of his long hair were snipped away. It was like the stylist was sculpting the disorganized wad of yarn glued his head into something sleek and beautiful. Yes, yes, he was feeling the character more and more, getting a better fix on who he should be playing. He could practically see himself becoming the character in his reflection. With a flourish, the stylist removed the apron from Quinn, who was staring lustily at his newly gelled and peaked hairdo. Quinn spun in his chair to get Damon's opinion, but Damon was already standing, pointing to a photo in a book of sample hairdos and showing it to the stylist. "I want a fade." The stylist's shoulders sank, as he thought he was done for the day, but Quinn gave him a quick wink and he agreed. As the stylist buzzed the sides over Damon's ears down to bare skin, Damon started to wonder how he'd look with a different hair color, but he knew he'd be pushing his luck to ask the stylist to start a major project like that at this late hour. But as his new style took shape, Damon began to grin. It wasn't a radical change, but it also wasn't the same old boring haircut that had stared back at him since high school. He glanced behind him, where Quinn seemed to be studying an issue of Playgirl. Damon blinked his eyes, thinking there must be hair in them. "What you reading there, Q?" "Interesting article," Quinn said deadpan. Damon figured Quinn must be doing research into what he thought a gay guy would read. When the two men stepped back into the cool evening air, they both felt pounds heavier as their scalps felt the breeze. Quinn looked down at his shorter friend and smiled. "Da-amn, boy, you do look cute." Damon looked at Quinn skeptically, thinking back to Quinn's gradual metamorphosis into Stanley Kowalski back in college. Maybe this was just his process. "Just so I'm clear, you're just trying to get into character, right?" Quinn wrapped a strong arm around Damon's slender shoulders. "Aw, my little Damie, never could take a compliment." Quinn leaned down o kiss Damon lightly on the forehead. If this was Quinn's process, he was certainly disappearing into the role already. Damon checked his phone for the time. "Maybe we should head back to your place and I can help you memorize your script." "Fuck the lines," said Quinn, with a ferocity strange for someone who could usually beat Jack Johnson in a mellow-off. Quinn spotted the Rage nightclub up the street and started to drag Damon in that direction. "Let's go dancing!" "I thought you hated Rage." "I did. But I don't think Alexander does." Inside the packed club, Quinn was much chattier than he had been on his first night in town. In fact, he seemed downright comfortable, chatting and laughing with everyone who approached him. Damon hovered close enough to hear Quinn introducing himself to people as Alexander. Quinn pulled Damon over and started introducing him as "my boy Damon". Damon had done some role-playing games online and always felt too self-conscious about it, but he was getting off on playing this role. Even pretending to be Quinn's -- or Alexander's -- boy was a thrill, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Quinn had already shed his t-shirt and was flexing in time with the music. Damon unbuttoned his silk shirt down to the base of his sternum. Any further exposure of his pale pasty skin would risk causing blindness to anyone who looked at it, and he'd never found his clumps of unsightly body hair to be aesthetically pleasing. Basically, Damon believed that the more of his body someone saw, the less likely they were to desire him. Ideally, to avoid turning off potential lovers, he would need to walk the streets in an Iron Man uniform. Quinn was getting sucked further away into the swirl of bodies, but Damon noticed that Quinn was constantly looking back to check on him. Eventually, Quinn squeezed his way back and they spent the remainder of the night dancing as a couple. When the pace slowed slightly, Quinn wrapped his arms around Damon's butt and hoisted him until Damon was looking down at Quinn. Quinn planted his lips on Damon's and kissed him hard. Damon closed his eyes, ecstatic, letting himself believe for a moment that what he was feeling from Quinn was real and not research. Fueled by Red Bulls and vodka, Quinn and Damon stayed until closing time. Damon was sure he would have a hangover at work tomorrow, but at the moment he was carefree and full of energy, literally skipping along the boulevard. Quinn strolled behind him, swinging his meaty arms loosely. "Okay, now we'll go home and do lines." Damon looked hopefully. "Cocaine?" Quinn rubbed his knuckles through Damon's new hairdo. "No, you knucklehead. Lines in the script." Damon giggled as they climbed into the convertible and headed back to Quinn's place. As Damon picked up the script from the floor of the car, he noticed the glow of his ring. The color had lightened since he first put it on. It now sparkled like a sapphire. He glanced over at Quinn, but couldn't see his ring, as Quinn was hanging his left forearm down along the outside of the car and pounding on the door in time with the music cranked on the car stereo. When they got back to the apartment, Quinn grabbed a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator and told Damon to make himself comfortable on the futon in the living room. Damon took a seat, sipped his beer and opened the script to the proper page, only to gasp as Damon returned to the living room wearing nothing but a pair of amply stuffed black briefs. "Aw, Damie, I told you to get comfortable. You're my expert on all this. I need you to tell me what I should be doing." Damon quickly flipped through the script. "Isn't it just a dialogue scene? I didn't see any sex scenes in the script." Quinn grabbed the script and flung it across the room. It slammed into the wall, snapping the fasteners and sending the pages fluttering to the floor. "Fuck the script. I need to know what it feels like to be inside you." Quinn pulled down his briefs and his rigid cock began to rise and grow. He worked the scrap of black cloth down both of his bulging thighs, then down the shins. He reached one big toe up to pull the briefs the rest of the way off. Then, holding the shorts between his toes, he tossed them directly into Damon's face. Damon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, amazed to have this chance to inhale Quinn's musky scent. He pulled the briefs above his eyes and left them resting atop his new haircut. He giggled playfully and stared lustily at the golden-haired tower of muscle looming over him, standing with legs spread and a nine-inch cock pointing straight up, slapping flat against his abs and seemingly as wide as Damon's wrist. Jesus, Damon thought, he's staring at me. Right at my pathetic little body. And he's got a hard-on that could shatter glass. Fuck, thought Damon, this guy is a good actor. Damon tore open his gray shirt, losing a few buttons in the process. He unbuckled his pants but struggled to get them down before Quinn leapt upon him. Quinn shredded Damon's trousers and ripped off his boxers to discover Damon's slim, six-incher, fully erect. Quinn grunted and smiled, then eased his own cock gently into Quinn's asshole. "How's that?" Damon whimpered, never having had something that large inside him before. Quinn brushed Damon's cheek and kissed him. "You tell me if I'm hurting you, Damie. I just want to make you happy." Quinn took it slowly, gradually inserting more and more of his engorged cock into Damon. Damon was getting short of breath. He glanced down and saw Quinn's massive left hand wrapped around Damon's cock, stroking it in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. Damon noticed the glint of Quinn's ring on the hand. The jewel was now sapphire blue, just like Damon's had been in the car. Curious, he glanced at his own ring and it had now lightened to a dazzling cyan. He felt all his inhibitions slipping away and surrendered to the power of Quinn. Or Alexander. Or whoever. Who cares? Damon screamed out, "Just fuckin' fuck me!" * * * Quinn slept deeply through the night, but his dreams were vivid. Amazingly, he had already reached a state that usually only came after weeks of rehearsal: he was dreaming in character. He knew he was ready to play a part when he had so deeply inhabited them that he no longer dreamt as himself, but as Stanley Kowalski, or George in "Virginia Woolf", or Estragon in "Waiting for Godot". (Man, if you think your dreams are hard to follow, try having some "Godot" dreams.) Somehow, with this Alexander character, he had gone from panic to serenity in a single night. He felt the power of Alexander's suddenly unleashed sexuality, the newfound sense of freedom that gave him, the strength he sought to exert over others, yet the tenderness he could exhibit to those he loved, like his boy Damie. That last part caused a slight glitch in the dream, as Quinn suddenly realized he was in a dream and tried to remember whether Damie was a character in the script or... No, Damie was his friend from college. Little Damon. How had he never noticed what a cutie Damie was all these years? Damie was always so shy. He must have been waiting for years for Alexander to make the first move. Fuck, no, that's not right. Alexander is the character. I'm Quinn. That's right, right? It was all intermingled, and suffused with a sense of well-being that seemed to have calmed his spirit. Yeah, now he remembered. He was in a panic all day about...something or other...and his little Damie came and made it all better. And they fucked until they collapsed. A familiar xylophone melody began to repeat and repeat in Quinn's brain, gradually rousing him from his slumber. He snuggled against the bare skin of Damon's back as they spooned on the futon. Damon remained blissfully asleep in Quinn's arms while the fog lifted from Quinn's brain. That music...it was the alarm on Damon's iPhone. What time was it? Quinn squinted until he finally spotted something with a clock: his microwave. 7:45. Fuck! The audition! When was the audition again? Quinn gently slid his arm out from underneath Damon, stood up and switched off the alarm. Morning wood slapping against his thigh, he wandered the living room naked in search of the title page of the script on which he had scribbled the time and place of his audition. Finally locating it, he discovered that he had a couple of hours of breathing room, although he still needed to memorize the lines. He wasn't worried though, because he already had the character. Quinn leaned down and kissed Damon on the cheek. "Morning, sexy. Time to get up." Damon grumpily opened his eyes and was rewarded with a view of Quinn's hard cock. He giggled sleepily and said in a lilting voice, "Mmm, is that for me?" "Not right now. Gotta get ready for my audition." "Can I help you?" "Not right now. I need to take a shower." Damon crawled across the futon with a smile, waggling his bouncy ass. "Can I help you?" Quinn felt tempted, but knew he had to get in and out fast so he could study his lines. He kissed Damon's forehead, then walked to the bathroom. Damon got hard just watching Quinn's broad back and dimpled butt cheeks as he left the room. That vision carried him to a speedy orgasm, spurting across the thatches of hair on his meagerly developed torso. He fell back into a giddy slumber, rubbing his fingers lazily through his own cum. Damon woke again when a shadow fell over his face. He looked up to see Quinn fully dressed in a gray business suit, the sunlight hitting the peaks of his freshly gelled fauxhawk. Quinn's cock rubbed softly against the material of his pants, as he'd decided that Alexander would go commando. Better to demonstrate his dominance over his rivals. Quinn nervously fiddled with a ring on his left hand, its jewel an entrancing bright shade of blue. "Gotta go, Damie. See you when I get back?" Smiling coyly, Damon sat up, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his hairy legs. "I'll be here. Kiss for luck?" Quinn leaned down and planted his succulent lips on Damon's. They both closed their eyes to fully enjoy the sensation. Neither noticed the blue glow of their rings brightening further. After Quinn left for his audition, Damon made his way to the bathroom where he took a long hot shower. The gushing water kept him from hearing his phone ringing, as his office called to find out why he wasn't at work yet. Damon stepped from the shower and wiped the fog from the mirror. He had to admit, he really did look cute with his new haircut, but he grimaced the further he looked down. Those clumps of hair on his chest and the wet, clingy hair on his legs did not look cute at all. He grabbed Quinn's can of Barbasol and lathered up his chest and legs. It took him two of Quinn's razorblades to shave his chest and legs clean and, after he saw how that looked, another blade plus the rest of the Barbasol to take care of his pubes. As he lay his sleek new body back down upon the futon, Damie wondered how Q's audition was going. * * * Quinn's confidence that he would be cast in the soap opera peaked in the millisecond before he opened the door to the casting office. Once inside, he discovered several other strapping young men much like himself. VERY much like himself. Clearly the call had gone out for any actor who looked sufficiently similar to the one who had originated the role of Alexander, and the results of that quest were seated in this room. Blond, handsome, tall but not too tall. Their minor physical differences were outweighed by their striking similarities. Quinn had gotten used to being the go-to lead actor back in college, but he was now facing the reality of being a tiny fish trying to navigate the biggest sea in the acting world. Quinn checked in at the front desk and took his seat among the other prospective Alexanders, who were checking him out, both to evaluate him as their acting competition and, for many of them, just to check him out. At least his fears about playing a gay character had been erased by last night's events. As soon he had found that ring in the shop where Damon took him, something clicked in his mind. Never before had a single item of wardrobe given him such a strong sense of a character. He had been immersed in characters before, but last night, he felt positively possessed, seeing the world through Alexander's eyes, doing things he had never done before -- things he would never have considered doing before. But as the night went on, he realized he wasn't simply acting out of curiosity as research for a role; he was responding to irresistible physical urges...and he had to admit to himself that it felt tremendous. He only hoped that Damon didn't feel used and exploited, although from Quinn's semi-drunken memories of the night, it seemed like Damon had a gay old time. He had never seen Damon so loose, so happy, so free. * * * Back at Quinn's apartment, Damon was restless. He had checked his voicemail and discovered several messages from his workplace, asking where he was. He finally called back, explaining that he had misread some parking signs and his car had been towed. He promised to get to work as soon as possible, but he had no such intention. He wanted to be waiting here when Quinn returned triumphantly from his audition, so he could leap into Quinn's arms, smother him in kisses...and then fuck, fuck, fuck the night away. Although Damon had known he was gay since before he even knew it was a thing to be, he'd never felt as obsessed with sex as he did this morning. Sure, he had thought about the subject plenty, more in abstract terms than in genuine practice, but his mind had never before been whipped into such an orgy of nonstop salacious thoughts. It still seemed like some impossible dream that he had actually had sex with Quinn Brooks...and multiple times at that. But uncharacteristically, Damon wasn't dwelling on why Quinn suddenly found him attractive (or at least fuckworthy) and wasn't making mental wagers about how soon Quinn would inevitably turn his attentions elsewhere and leave Damon in misery. All that percolated through Damon's mind this bright morning was looking his best for his man ("his MAN"!!!) when he got back home. The drab clothes Damon had worn last night were no longer an option, as Quinn had shredded Damon's slacks and underwear when he tore them off Damon's body. Damon's gray shirt was slightly salvageable, since it had only lost a few buttons. Damon slipped it on, rolling up the sleeves and knotting the tails of the shirt in the front to expose his smooth, hairless tummy. Not terrible, Damon thought, but pretty blah. Surely he could find something with more pizzazz. He peeked through Quinn's drawers for some shorts, but anything big enough to accomodate Quinn was ridiculously huge on Damon's slim firame. None of Quinn's clothes hanging in his closet were appropriate either, but Damon did notice that Quinn's girlfriend Renee had left a few changes of clothes hanging there as well. Not only was her body closer to Quinn's size, but he admired her fashion sense. He felt a forbidden thrill as he slipped a spangly blue-and-white-striped top off its hanger, held it in front of himself and studied his reflection in the mirror. He pulled his gray button down over his head and slipped on Renee's top, its neck so wide that it exposed the slope of Damon's shoulder. A smile slowly grew on his lips. Yesterday, he would have felt embarrassed to wear anything so shiny or so feminine, but today it gave him a kick. He squeezed his way into a pair of her black leggings and was glad that the bottom of the shirt concealed the growing boner trapped within them. He would have to wash the leggings before Renee returned to town, so she wouldn't wonder why there was a stain of dried pre-cum in them. At least his own shoes still fit, although they were a ludicrous contrast to the outfit above them. Clearly he would need to run out and buy some new clothes if he was going to look good for Quinn, and this mismatched outfit would allow him to go into public. With his paltry savings, he couldn't suddenly become an au courant fashionista...but, hey, he thought with a giggle, that's why God invented credit cards! Damon stepped out of the apartment, realizing too late that the door was locking behind him. A day ago, Damon would have been frantic about getting locked out and mortified to be seen in public the way he was currently dressed. But instead, he shrugged it off and sashayed (there was really no better word for it) his little kiester down the sidewalk to where he thought he had parked his beat-up piece-of-shit Mazda. He looked up and down the street with a sinking feeling. Well, what do you know? That lie about his car having been towed because he didn't read the parking signs? It wasn't a lie after all. But again, instead of freaking out, Damon calmly pulled out his iPhone. * * * Quinn leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed as he went over Alexander's lines in his head for the millionth time in twenty minutes. He felt a vibration in his pants. He didn't want to be disturbed while he was so immersed in character. Still, what if it was important? What if it was a message from his agent? Or from Damon? He had to look. He slid the phone from his pocket and noticed that it was a text from Renee. He pushed the phone back in his pocket without reading the message. He couldn't lose his focus now. Besides, he had no clue what to tell her about last night. He probably shouldn't say anything. What if it was just a one-night fling, a dalliance fueled by an actor's need for new experiences to inform his performance? He still loved Renee, didn't he? Well, he liked her at least. After all, she was pretty and smart and understanding and... "Quinn Brooks?" Huh? What? Quinn heard someone calling his name. "Quinn Brooks?" The woman said it again, more impatiently. Quinn shook off his stupor and raised his hand. "Present!", he called, as if the woman were taking roll call. She gestured for him to proceed to the inner office. Quinn offered a hasty "Good luck" to his fellow actors in the waiting room and stepped inside. Three people seated behind a table stared at Quinn, impressed on first sight by his close resemblance to his predecessor in the role. They each informed Quinn who they were, but Quinn's mind was so scattered that all he heard was "words words name name words". Dammit, why had he looked at that text message? He was totally losing his focus. He brushed his left hand nervously through his fauxhawk, disheveling his carefully groomed look. The stone in his ring was darkening back toward a deep blue, verging on black. He gazed across the room at the three people evaluating him, as well as the bored guy manning a video camera behind them. Quinn found himself making friendly chit-chat. Dammit, that wasn't his plan! All morning, he had been in the zone. He had planned that, from the moment he walked into the audition room, he was going to take command of the situation and BE sly, conniving Alexander. But here he was, in front of the people who were going to decide his fate, and he heard his mouth on autopilot, lapsing back into friendly old Quinn, blathering about traffic and asking politely about getting his parking validated. Focus, man, focus! From somewhere, a voice asked Quinn to begin. He took a big breath and opened his mouth, but the words he had down stone cold just minutes ago were eluding him. It was the classic actor's nightmare of going dry. At least he wasn't naked too, although that would have given them something to focus on besides the lack of words coming from his mouth. Cringing, he put a shaky hand into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out his script pages, hoping they would kick him back into gear. But he discovered they were in the wrong order and facing different directions. As he searched desperately for the first page, he could sense interest plummeting across the room. At last, he found the first line, which seemed dimly familiar. He cleared his throat and realized how parched he was. His tongue was practically cemented to the roof of his mouth. He grabbed a bottle of water that had been placed nearby for him. The cap was surprisingly tight and, when he finally loosened it, he was squeezing the plastic bottle so tight that a gusher of water shot out, dousing the crotch of his pants. Quinn stared at the dark wet blotch and wondered, where is cyanide when you need it? Quinn drained half of what remained in the bottle, then set it aside, glanced at the pages and began to recite his lines. Once he got rolling, the words were mostly there, so he only needed to consult the pages twice more for cues, but the character's voice, the one he had such a grip on all morning, was gone. It wasn't devious Alexander speaking his mind, it was just charming Quinn Brady lifelessly reciting some shit he had memorized. He may as well have been in a third-grade Earth Day pageant dressed as an oak tree for all the emotion he was investing in his performance. Once he finished, he was out the door in shame somewhere between when the casting director said "thank" and when she said "you". Quinn stormed through the outer office and into the parking lot, royally pissed at himself. He yanked off his necktie, wadded it up and hurled it into the backseat of his convertible. A voice in his head asked, "Is that really the best you can do?" Quinn told himself "no" as he struggled out of his coat. "I thought you were serious about this," said the voice. I am, Quinn insisted to himself. I love acting. "Well, then, show it, goddamn it!", urged the voice. I can't, I blew my shot, it's over, Quinn lamented as he stripped off his dress shirt. But the voice was screaming at him now, "Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think that I would just walk away?" Finally, Quinn realized the pep talk wasn't really from himself. It was the voice of Alexander, roaring back to life and asserting itself. The energy and intensity which had fueled Quinn last night were back, maybe even stronger than before. He marched back toward the casting office, still shirtless and with something to prove, flinging open the front door, crossing the lobby and barging into the inner room. An assistant chased after him, yelling that he couldn't go in there, but Alexander would not be stopped. Quinn pushed aside the startled blond guy who was in the middle of his audition and ignored the shouts from the folks behind the desk that this was unacceptable. "No, what's unacceptable is what I did before," said Quinn with fury. "I wasn't showing you who I truly was, what I had the potential to be. I had to get out of here and clear my head before I could see myself for who I am and realize I had unfinished business back here. I deserve to be here. Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think I would just walk away?" The words ran out. He had nothing more to say. His broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath, Quinn stared down the people behind the table, who looked like they had just witnessed a car bomb exploding. The bored camera guy was now alert and zooming in for a close-up of Quinn's face. The auditioner whom Quinn had interrupted felt compelled to applaud Quinn softly, realizing he could never have delivered a performance like that. Only as his adrenaline subsided did Quinn realize that everything he had said was actually from Alexander's lines in the script. But not only did they ring true for Alexander, they said what Quinn had needed to say. The folks behind the table consulted with each other in murmurs before the soap opera's director, a distinguished man with graying hair, a British accent and an approving smile, leaned forward and told Quinn, "Well, this is the part of the audition where we would usually ask you to take off your shirt, but you seem to have jumped the gun on that, dear boy." Quinn's piercing blue eyes gazed right back at the man. He radiated immense confidence, knowing that he had nailed it. He brushed his left hand slowly down his sweat-soaked chest and abs, unaware that the gemstone on his new ring had shifted back from a deep onyx to a blue lapis lazuli. * * * At first, the stylist did not recognize the waifish man getting out of the cab in front of the salon in the striped shirt, leggings and black Oxford shoes. But the stylist tended to have a good memory for his own work and, once the customer entered, he realized from the conservative brown fade that this was the meek pal of the gorgeous blond who had entered with such urgency the night before. The man walked gracefully to the counter and grinned conspiratorially at the stylist. "Remember me?" "Yeah, sure," said the stylist. "You were in here with that other dude last night." Damon liked being remembered for once, even if only as an afterthought to "that other dude". Actually, being remembered as having been "WITH that other dude" gave Damon quite a thrill. "I want to go further. Try something really radical." Damon described the look he was thinking of, then asked, "Do you do piercings here too?" Damon was surprised how long the process took to achieve what he wanted, but he knew it would be worth it, if only to see Quinn's reaction. As he waited for the process to complete, he decided he might as well get a mani/pedi while he was waiting. The cute boy tending to Damon's nails suggested a facial to clean out Damon's pores, so that was added to the credit card too. When Damon finally stepped outside, it was after noon. He checked his phone but hadn't received a call or text from Quinn. He hoped that was a good sign, but didn't want to jinx it by calling Q and asking. Catching his reflection in the salon window, Damon could hardly believe he was looking at himself, but these hand-me-down rags from Renee were not cutting it. He knew just where to go, so he phoned for another cab. The white-haired old woman was behind the counter at his favorite funky clothes shop again. In fact, he never remembered seeing anyone else working the register in all the times he'd shopped here. Well, browsed. He loved looking at the clothing, and had enjoyed trying on some of the milder outfits in the dressing room, but he never dreamt of wearing any of it out of here. Today, though, he wanted to buy everything he tried on, no matter how outlandish. All that held him back was a nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that his credit card did have a limit. He brought a pile of items to the counter. As he pulled out his wallet, the woman behind the register noticed a familiar ring on his left hand, silver with a shiny turquoise stone. She studied Damon's face and was amazed. She knew the effects her jewelry could have, but had never seen such a radical change in a customer in such a short time. "Oh, it's you! I take it you are pleased with the ring." Damon held up the back of his hand and looked at the stone, mesmerized by its color. "I absolutely love it." "And your friend?" "Oh, yeah, it was exactly what he needed!" The woman was relieved. Although she had known immediately that the man before her was gay, albeit very introverted, she was a bit worried when the friend's ring had turned only slightly blue. She bought all of her jewelry from an old hippie living in an abandoned filling station near Ojai who had hyped his products by saying they had magical powers which would help the wearer become "self-actualized" and "live their life to its greatest potential". He ascribed different miraculous abilities to his various rings and necklaces and bracelets. The shopkeeper had been in the business long enough to have lived through the fads of crystals and pyramid-power, to have gone to EST seminars and had herself tested with an e-meter, so she figured this guy was just trafficking in another new line of bullshit, but she liked his designs, so she bought a few samples. The rings she had sold to the men last night were part of what he called his XY line. The jewelry maker claimed that they could detect the wearer's position on the sexuality spectrum. If the stone was pitch black, the wearer was uncontrovertibly heterosexual. The bluer the stone became, the more the wearer embraced their homosexuality. The storekeeper initially assumed the jeweler was just trying to unload crates of unsold mood rings from the Seventies with a modern angle that might make them appealing to gay couples getting married. (He also offered an XX line for lesbians, which accounted for the hot pink stone on the saleswoman's ring finger.) But the jewelry maker assured her that what made the rings mystical was their power to nudge the wearer along that sliding scale until they reached the point where they felt most comfortable in their own skin. At first, that seemed like an extravagant claim, but the saleslady had seen the jeweler's promises borne out hundreds of times now and, from the evidence before her, Damon had become far more comfortable with his gayness since last night. After she finished ringing up Damon's items on the antique cash register, the saleslady asked if Damon needed anything else. "Or perhaps a gift for you friend?" Damon would love to surprise Q with a gift, but he hesitated, informing the saleslady, "I don't want to buy him any clothes, because they might be too small for him. If he gets this new job today, they're probably going to want him to pack on a lot more muscle." She heard the magic word and brought out her jewelry box, selecting a pair of wide bracelets made from leather and silver. They had a very rough-hewn macho look, like something a gladiator or Thor would wear, and Damon thought Quinn would look fierce in them. "I'll take them!", he shouted without even asking the price. The saleslady rang it up and noticed that Damon was still studying the jewelry box in search of something else. "I don't suppose you sell...another kind of ring." "What kind of ring?" Damon blushed, his freshly-cleansed pale skin serving as a flesh-and-blood mood ring, turning practically scarlet. Although no one else was in the store, Damon still felt embarrassed to ask, so he whispered his request in the saleslady's ear. She nodded and gestured for him to follow her into the back of the shop. * * * Quinn was pumped! After Quinn's cloudburst of an audition, the director asked him to remain in the area for a while until they finished seeing the other actors. So, for a couple of hours, Quinn wandered the parking lot, picked up a protein shake from the Jamba Juice at the mall across the street, then returned to his car to wait until the director needed him again. God, he loved it here. Back home, the leaves would be falling soon and the air would be turning crisp already, while he could sit in his convertible with the seat leaned back and his shirt off, working on his tan. An assistant finally came out to tell Quinn they were ready for him. When he started to put his shirt back on, the assistant told him, "That won't be necessary." Quinn returned to the audition room, expecting to do a full audition, since he'd only said about ten sentences during his earlier tirade, but the director informed him they had heard enough. Quinn felt dejected, like he was being held after school to get a scolding on the way real professionals behave. Instead, the director informed Quinn that he had the role. Inside his head, Quinn felt like leaping ten feet high, but he retained his reserved Alexander-ish demeanor and simply stated, "You won't be sorry." Once he was on the studio lot, Quinn would have a personal trainer in the show's private fitness center, but since Quinn's first episode wouldn't shoot for a couple of weeks, they wanted him to hit the gym heavily in the meantime. His body was well on its way to perfection, but for maximum tittilation value, the soap writers set a high proportion of the show's scenes in bedrooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, saunas, massage parlors, laundry rooms -- anyplace that the male actors could conceivably display a lot of skin. For a story arc about an academic cheating scandal, the writers had even bandied about the notion of a clothing-optional library. Wags in the press had long ago dubbed the show "Topless Hospital" and "The Hung and the Shirtless". "As a gay character," the director said to Quinn, "it would seem unlikely that your physique would be less spectacular than the straight characters, wouldn't you say? You do feel comfortable playing a gay character, don't you?" "Absolutely," said Quinn as his ring became a touch more brilliant. Quinn wanted to share the good news with Damon immediately, but he didn't want to do it over the phone. He wanted to see Damon's face. He leapt into the convertible without even opening the door and sped back to his apartment. Climbing out, he slipped on a ribbed purple tank top from his gym bag, slung his dress shirt, suit coat and tie over his arm and walked toward his front door. A veritable bunker of shopping bags was piled by his front door, and extending from behind them were two alluringly slim, smooth legs, feet in blue flip-flops with blue painted toenails. Had Renee already returned from her commercial shoot in Baja? Shit, she did send him that damn text message this morning and he never even looked at it. But why was she sitting outside, when she had Quinn's spare key? "I'm sorry, baby. You been waiting long?", said Quinn as he rounded the corner. "I don't mind," said the soft-voiced man seated on Quinn's welcome mat. Quinn leapt back, startled by the stranger, then became even more startled when he realized this was no a stranger. It was Damon, but he was virtually unrecognizable from the sexual dynamo he'd left on his futon this morning, let alone the shy and awkward man he had he known since college. "I didn't see your car out front," said Quinn, as if that was the reason for the look of shock on his face. "Fascist cops towed it away. I must have parked where I shouldn't have. Far as I'm concerned, they can keep it. I can't be seen in a monstrosity like that." Damon struggled to his feet and pointed to some of the shopping bags surrounding him. "Can you help me with these, babe?" Quinn grabbed two bags and unlocked the door. Damon preceded him into the living room, and Quinn was hypnotized by the waggle of Damon's ass in white short-shorts that ran out of fabric before his glutes ran out of curves. A baby-blue fishnet tank top covered Damon's now hairless torso, and silver studs now adorned both of his earlobes. His fingernails were coated with the same navy-blue nail polish as his toenails, and his face had a refreshed appearance that made him appear even more boyish than usual. But it was Damon's hair that commanded the most attention. Although it had been buzzed to the scalp on the sides last night, the top had been left fairly thick and messy. Now, the hair on top was dyed a rich shade of blue that matched his eyes and stood in dozens of gelled spikes. Damon couldn't help admiring himself in the reflection on the microwave door. "Maybe I read too much anime as a kid and had too many crushes on cartoon Asian boys with blue hair, but I fuckin' love it. Don't you fuckin' love it?" He could never have imagined it, but Quinn had to admit that it did work with the rest of Damon's new look. "I do, but it's so...different." "Different is what I want. I've had 23 years to be the same." Damon sat his little butt on the edge of the futon and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees as he looked up expectantly at Quinn. "So...how did the audition go?" Quinn wanted to draw out the suspense, but he was so eager to share the news, he was about to burst. He spoke softly with as blank an expression as he could manage. "I got it." Damon's high-pitched squeal triggered a frenzy of barking from the dogs next door. Just as he had envisioned, Damon leapt into the air, wrapping his slender arms around Quinn's neck and his bare legs around Quinn's waist. Quinn gave Damon a soulful French kiss and inhaled deeply. "What have you been drinking? You taste like Kool-Aid", he asked when he pulled his mouth away from Damon's. "Oh, I'm wearing fruit-punch-flavored lipstick," Damon explained. "Just a little. Also a little eyeliner. And some mascara. You like?" "As the actor in this relationship, I thought I'd be the one wearing the makeup." He smiled, then noticed Damon's expression suddenly turning serious. "What's the matter?" Damon seemed ready to sob. "You just called this a relationship." He grinned as a tear formed in the corner of his eye and, for the first time in his life, Damon had to worry about runny mascara. Quinn hugged Damon's thin ribcage tightly, fearing he could snap the poor little guy if he squeezed any harder. "Oh, I got you a gift," Damon declared, motioning for Quinn to lower him to the floor. "To congratulate you for getting the part." "But you didn't know I'd gotten the part." "Positive thinking!", Damon shouted as he rummaged through his shopping bags. Quinn thought Damon was nearly broke, but he had clearly gone on a massive shopping spree. Damon flung bright pastel shirts and gold lame vests and sequined socks onto the floor. Quinn even thought he spotted Renee's striped shirt and black leggings among the pile, but he was sure he was mistaken. Finally, Damon found what he was looking for and handed the two leather and silver cuffs to Quinn. "For my macho macho man," Damon said. Quinn looked at them, impressed with the craftsmanship but unsure if they were exactly him. "Thank you so much, Damie, but you really shouldn't have." "I should have and I did. Try them on!" Quinn unbuckled them and strapped them onto each wrist. Just like when he tried on the ring last night, he felt a comforting warmth in his body as soon as the cuffs were in place. Maybe they weren't Quinn's type of accessory, but he could certainly see Alexander wearing them. They felt like battle armor, like something Alexander the Great might have worn leading his troops. Maybe Alexander in the soap sees himself as a modern-day Alexander the Great, Quinn thought. Not that Quinn knew much about Alexander the Great, aside from that stupid movie his girlfriend at the time made him watch where Colin Farrell and Jared Leto had the hots for each other. "Mmmm, Colin and Jared," thought Quinn. "Maybe that movie was better than I gave it credit for." A slight buzz and heaviness spread through his muscles, as if he had just finished a heavy workout -- which reminded him... "I gotta go work out. They said I'm gonna have a lot of shirtless scenes, so the show wants me to get more ripped." Damon grinned. "My heavens, I am gonna watch this show on a constant loop." "You wanna come work out with me? Then afterwards, we can have a celebratory dinner." Damon, for whom working out had always been a slog, clapped excitedly, then searched his bags for his new workout clothes. When they arrived at the gym, for once it was Damon drawing the curious eyes. Not that Quinn was completely ignored, but here he was but one of hundreds of muscleheads. As far as Quinn could tell, Damon was the only blue-haired pixie in a Madonna "True Blue" t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, old-fashioned scrotum-length running shorts and electric-blue Chuck Taylors. As Quinn headed toward the free weights, Damon hung back by the treadmills. "Aren't you coming over to lift with me?", Quinn asked. "I'm gonna work on my calves. You go play with the lummoxes. But I'll have my eye on you, Q, so don't get too friendly with any of them." "Promise," Quinn said, rushing back for a kiss and another dose of Damon's fruity lipstick, which he would continue to taste throughout his workout. Quinn was practically delirious. He was prone to falling into relationships quickly, with his swift courtship of Renee being the most recent example, but he'd never felt quite so smitten with anyone as he was with Damon. Then again, it's not like they rushed into this. They had been acquainted for several years already, but until yesterday Quinn hadn't even acknowledged certain tendencies in himself. He always was a little slow to catch on. Quinn worked his way in with the muscle beasts whose inflated bodies made him feel puny. He never wanted to look that absurd, and would draw the line if the show suggested that he take steroids or any other drugs. He wanted any muscle growth to be natural -- unaware that, as soon as he began to lift wearing the new cuffs that Damon had given him, they would start to work their own mysterious magic on his muscle tone. It started slowly, as he noticed that the usual weights he could curl and bench felt surprisingly easy today. He attributed that to his great mood and the adrenaline rush of landing the part on the soap. But when he moved up to the next heaviest weight, that too was a breeze. He had to go up a full fifty pounds before he started feeling any strain at all. With each set of curls, his arms were swelling massively, his biceps veins snaking in sharp relief on top of them. By the end of his workout, he was handling as much weight as the WWE wannabes surrounding him, and his bulging muscles were testing the limits of the seams on his tank top. Sprinting on the treadmill, Damon watched with fascination, turned on by the sight of Quinn's expanding lats within his purple tank. When the two men hit the showers together, Damon didn't even attempt to hide the erection he was getting. Quinn had never been one to check out other guys' dicks in the locker room, but he figured Damon was fair game now. He was amazed to see that Damon's cock was several inches longer than it had been last night -- bigger than Quinn's now! -- and was that...a cock ring? Yup, the silver beauty that Damon had been afraid to ask for out loud was now working its own form of magic on Damon. Back in the locker room, Quinn attempted to pull on his plaid flannel shirt, but it was tight on his arms in a way it never had been before. When he tried to pull the buttons toward the buttonholes, he heard loud ripping sounds as the sleeves separated at the shoulder and his lats tore a slit straight down the back. He was maintaining an incredible post-workout pump, with a deep crevice between his pecs and sharper definition in his abs. His briefs were a tighter squeeze than usual. He had to lie down on a bench and pull like hell to get his pants over his quads, and there was no way his zipper was going all the way to the top. His sneakers were the only things that fit remotely well. He lay on the bench, defeated and barely clothed. "I'd say our Q needs to go shopping again," said Damon, hovering over him, amused. Quinn looked up and witnessed the latest incarnation of Damon. He had washed out the gel, so his blue hair now hung across his forehead in choppy bangs that grazed his eyebrows. He wore a silver button-down shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to display his modest biceps, a vintage hand-painted necktie, tight tweed slacks turned up at the cuffs, baby-blue socks and black-and-white wingtips. Quinn suddenly felt like a schlub. "I'll only go shopping if you pick out what I buy." Quinn entered Damon's favorite shop wearing sweatpants and no shirt. The same saleslady was at her usual post, and she noticed the cuffs on Quinn's wrists and the dramatic renovations they had already performed on his body. Quinn wasn't nearly as fussy as he had been last night. With the ring and now the leather cuffs, he felt he'd truly found his center as Alexander...and he felt pretty secure as Quinn too. The selection of clothes that fit Quinn's new size was limited, but when he tried on a blue sharkskin suit, Damon swooned. Quinn didn't want to invest in more clothes right now, not knowing if today's growth spurt was a one-time event, but this ought to do for tonight. They found a romantic French restaurant where they only had to wait two hours for a table, giving time for the men to have their longest sustained conversation ever. Damon's memories of his own past seemed to be receding like a bad dream, with only the past 24 hours feeling real to him, so they mostly talked about their hopes for the future. After an extraordinary candlelit dinner fueled by much wine, Damon asked if he could drive the convertible home. Quinn asked, "Can you drive a stick?" Damon cupped a hand under the newly hefty bulge in his pants and assured Quinn that he could. Damon tooled down Wilshire Boulevard, frequently glancing over at the sharp-dressed hunk in the passenger seat and smiling. When he passed the usual turn-off, Quinn asked, "Wasn't that my street?" Damon just smirked and kept driving toward the setting sun. When they arrived at the coast, a jazz band was playing a free concert on the Santa Monica Pier. Damon parked the car and led Quinn toward the music. They hung on the edge of the crowd, Quinn with his arms around Damon, taking in the sights and sounds of the band and the sky and the ocean and the carnival rides, while remaining in their own little world. As a slow song began to play, Quinn asked if Damon would like to dance. "I thought you would never ask," said Damon. "Literally." Having been performing in musicals since he was in seventh grade, Quinn was by far the superior dancer, but he took it easy on his partner, just swaying back and forth as Damon rested his blue hair against Quinn's chest. Quinn stared at the darkening sky and wondered how it was possible for his life to have changed so radically in a single day. He had no idea that Damon was thinking the same thing. When the concert ended, they returned to the convertible. This time Quinn drove, with Damon reclining so his head rested in Quinn's lap. He offered to blow Quinn as he drove, but Quinn did not want to end this perfect day by plowing into a freeway overpass while cumming on his windshield. Damon agreed to wait until they got home, contenting himself with nuzzling the hardening bulge under Quinn's shiny pants. Once they reached Quinn's place, they had almost completely undressed each other in the short distance between the car and the front door. They stumbled inside and fell immediately onto the futon. Damon's cock grew stiff and rigid as he kneaded Quinn's impressive new muscles. He pushed Quinn down and straddled him, guiding the head of his cock toward Quinn's ass. Quinn flinched. "What're you doing down there, young man?" "I'm taking my new pink Cadillac for a test drive," Damon grinned. "First you drive my convertible, now this? When did you get so aggressive?" "Since I realized what I wanted." Damon eased the head of his cock into the virgin territory of Quinn's tight hole. Quinn shouted, his arms spread wide to grip the sides of the futon, his ring now a bright turquoise, just like Damon's. Damon bent down and kissed Quinn's chest, whispering, "It's okay, baby, it's okay." As Damon's cock pressed deeper inside of him, the agony shifted to pleasure for Quinn, as he experienced a feeling he never knew he could crave. He spread his powerful hands over Damon's ass cheeks and helped provide thrust for Damon. When Damon came inside Quinn, they both moaned with satisfaction. After cuddling for a while, Damon offered to let Quinn fuck him, but Quinn took a rain check, already having had more excitement today than he could have possibly expected. "In that case," said Damon, "I need to take a leak." He leapt from the futon and scurried naked into the bathroom. Quinn lay spread-eagled, toying with his semi-hard cock and suddenly feeling envious of Damon's endowment. Moonlight filtered through the venetian blinds, illuminating the floor which was scattered with their discarded clothes and Damon's purchases from earlier in the day. Quinn noticed a shadow moving past the blinds, but thought nothing of it until he heard a key sliding into the lock. He scrambled to find something to wear as the door swung open and Renee switched on the lights. She was lugging two suitcases and looked haggard, her usually stylish hair now a straggly mess. Quinn had only managed to get one leg of his sharkskin pants up to his knee. "Renee! You're here!", shouted Quinn, trying to make up in volume what he lacked in enthusiasm. She rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. "The shoot was canceled because a hurricane was heading for Baja. Didn't you get my text?" Oh fuck, Quinn thought, I never did read that fucking text. "Yeah, of course I did. I just didn't expect you back so soon." Renee glanced at the shambles of the room and said, "No, apparently not. What the hell happened here?" "I, uh, just went on a shopping spree to celebrate. I wanted to wait to tell you when you got back. I got the part on that soap!" "You did? That's great, honey." She walked over to hug Quinn, who gave her a friendly hug back. Renee was amazed by Quinn's size. "My god, how did you get so huge?" "What do you mean? Just good diet and exercise." Renee cast a skeptical eye. "I've only been away for two days. Nobody balloons like this in two days." She looked at the slim-fitting clothes strewn about the floor. "I'll tell you one thing, you're never going to fit into any of these baby clothes you bought. Didn't you try any of them on before you bought them?" Just then, Renee noticed her own striped shirt and leggings among the other clothes. She picked them up and showed them to Quinn. "What are these doing out?" "I don't know. Honestly." And he WAS being honest. About that. Renee heard a flush in the bathroom and her eyes turned accusingly toward Quinn. "Do you have another woman here?" "What? No. NO. Absolutely not. Listen, why don't you go back to your place and get a good night's sleep and we can talk about all this in the morning when we've got clearer heads?" He tried maneuvering her toward the front door, but she outflanked him and dashed toward the bathroom door. She was about to knock when some naked twink with blue hair and a silver cock ring swung the door open. He smiled with surprise upon seeing Renee. "Oh, hi!", he said, grinning. But as Renee reeled, looking back and forth from Quinn to Damon and trying to piece together what was going on, Damon put a hand to his lips and said, with concern, "Oh." Renee felt like she had stepped into an alternate universe. The last thing she expected when she returned to L.A. was to discover her boyfriend Quinn's body had suddenly become so jacked. No, that's not true. The last thing she expected was to discover a blue-haired boytoy hiding naked in Quinn's bathroom. Scratch that. The last thing she expected was to discover that the blue boy in question was that sweet mild-mannered guy Damon who had first introduced Renee to Quinn. She was now seated at Quinn's kitchen table across from Quinn and Damon. As soon as Damon emerged from the bathroom, Renee demanded an explanation. Quinn said she was owed that, but asked if they could at least get dressed first. Quinn pulled on the pants of the sharkskin suit he had bought earlier in the evening but he remained distractingly shirtless. Damon poked through the piles of his new clothes that were scattered around the living room floor, his pale white butt pointing up as he bent down. Renee turned away, embarrassed...after first taking an astonished look at Damon's surprisingly hefty penis. She would never have suspected he was so gifted down there, proving that you can't judge a cock by its cover. Damon finally slipped into a bowling shirt and a pair of fashionably pre-torn blue jeans and walked over to the table, handing Renee a blue-and-white striped shirt and some black leggings. "These are actually yours." "Yes, I know." Renee tossed them aside. "Do you have anything else that's actually mine?" Damon shook his head silently. Damon took a seat beside Quinn at the table. He wanted so much to lean against Quinn's powerful shoulder for support, but that wouldn't be helpful in this situation. Instead, he brought his left foot onto his chair, placed both hands upon his hairless knee where it poked through a hole in his jeans, then rested his chin upon his hands. Quinn sat upright with his hands folded on the tabletop. Arms crossed, Renee took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as possible. "So, can you tell me what exactly I walked into here?" Quinn and Damon looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Neither was quite positive how to describe what had happened in the past day and a half. Damon deferred to Quinn, who took his best shot. "Well, you know I was having trouble getting a fix on this character I auditioned for." "The gay guy," said Renee. "Right, the gay guy. I just wasn't feeling like I had a grasp of who he was, what he would look like, how his mind worked, what his needs were. So I asked Damie...Damon to come over and give me his advice." "I see. And where did he give his advice first? In your mouth or in your ass?" Both Damon and Quinn were outraged by this remark and shouted loudly. Renee immediately regretted it, and she motioned for the guys to quiet down. "I'm sorry. That was rude. But I think you can understand that this all has me a little...shaken up." Quinn reached over and held her right hand in his left. "I do understand. These past couple of days have been a whirlwind for us too." Renee looked down at Quinn's comforting hand and noticed the unfamiliar turquoise ring on his finger. Confused, she glanced over at Damon and saw an identical piece of jewelry on his hand. She let go of Quinn's hand. "Are you guys wearing matching rings?" Quinn pulled his hand back, and Damon covered his ring with his chin. Quinn insisted, "It's not what you think. It's not like we're a couple or anything." Damon glanced at Quinn, miffed. It may have been a whirlwind, but Damon had indeed begun thinking of them as a couple. "Oh, so you're not a couple," said Renee. "You just happen to have bought each other identical rings." "We didn't buy them for each other. I bought them both," said Quinn, not exactly helping. Renee looked at the clock on the microwave. It was 2:17am and she felt ready to collapse. "Can you just tell me if you two have been...doing this since we started dating?" Before Quinn could reply, Damon reached across the table and took Renee's hand. "No, Renee. I would never in a million years try to break up a couple." Renee stared at Damon's painted nails, then looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that precisely what you've done?" She then turned to Quinn and said, "I guess I can't be totally surprised. I've dated enough actors to know...that I should stop dating actors. But you're such a regular dude. I have a hard time picturing you being happy with..." She tried to come up with an apt description of the blue-haired waif across the table. "With some refugee from a rave." She stood, taking her shirt and leggings in her arms. She crossed the room, opened the front door, grabbed her suitcases and said, "I'll come back tomorrow and pick up the rest of my things. Let me know when you two won't be here. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything." She walked outside and the door closed behind her. Quinn stared at the door, feeling sad for Renee without feeling any remorse for what he and Damon had done. Damon also felt bad for Renee but had no regrets. He and Quinn had merely been carried away by irresistible, repressed longing for each other, right? Right? Quinn had run out of words for the day. He walked over to the futon and fell onto it face-first. Within a minute, he was snoring. Damon walked over, sat beside Quinn on the bed and slid his hand gently across Quinn's broad, well-muscled back. Damon glanced at his clothes scattered about the floor and began to put them back in his shopping bags. He slipped on his flip-flops, quietly carried his bags outside and gently shut the door behind him. On his iPhone, he looked up the address for the city impound lot, then called a taxi to take him there to get his car. * * * In the morning, Damon woke up alone and naked on his own futon, back in his own crummy apartment. He looked at the pile of shopping bags heaped by the front door and knew he had to go back to work today to start building up the money to pay off his credit cards. He walked into the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. He had looked so different the last time he was at work, a mere two days ago. He was bound to be the talk of the office today, walking in with blue hair and pierced ears. He could minimize the impact by removing the blue nail polish and wearing some of his lackluster old clothes, but he'd be slipping right back into the old camouflage that had kept people from noticing him for so long. He didn't plan to hide himself any more. Let them talk. Damon could handle it. The arrival of the new version of Damon in the office was almost a non-event. Partly it was because Damon had chickened out a bit and worn the least showy of the various outfits he had bought yesterday, even if a coral polo, white cargos and leather sandals were nothing like the nondescript clothes he typically wore. Partly it was because they were in L.A., where it seemed that most of the population lived their lives in a constant quest to be noticed, discovered and given their own reality show. But mostly it was because no one was really surprised that Damon was gay, no matter how meek and restrained his behavior had been. The blue hair was a surprising choice, but perhaps he had needed to make a bold, definitive statement. Most of his co-workers just felt relieved that they could stop using neutral pronouns when asking Damon if he had a "significant other" of if he had any plans to do anything with "anyone" on a holiday weekend. * * * Quinn's dreams were stressful all night. When he woke up, he felt like he'd just spent six hours watching Renee, Damon and Alexander have one non-stop argument. That's odd, thought Quinn. Why was Alexander in the fight and not me? But Alexander had been more forceful in defending his position than Quinn had been when he was trying to explain things to Renee. Alexander was unapologetic. If he wanted something -- or someone -- he found a way to get it, and felt no regrets for anyone who got hurt in the process. Much better than wishy-washy Quinn who might put on a tough act but, as soon as the performance ended, went right back to trying to be everyone's friend. Right now, Alexander's viewpoint had greater clarity, and seemed to be more defensible. Quinn noticed the time and would have to hustle to get to the studio for his first meeting with the cast and crew. No time for a shower, and as he reached for his deodorant, he realized he felt no need to cover up his natural scent. Checking himself in the mirror, he could swear he looked even more pumped this morning. His serratus anterior were much more clearly defined over his ribs, and the V leading into his shorts was more prominent. The stay-at-home moms of America -- as well as the gay guys with DVRs -- were going to enjoy seeing Alexander back on their favorite soap. He pulled on the white Oxford shirt he had worn last night, rolling up the cuffs to expose the bracelets that Damon had given him. His chest must have expanded overnight too, as the top three buttons of the shirt couldn't reach their buttonholes. He tucked the shirt tails into his sharkskin pants, the only pants he owned that would fit him any more. Quinn felt his ego swell as he gave his name at the gate and was waved onto the lot. Sure, it was only a soap opera, but he could tell you a dozen great actors who served their time in soaps on their way to the Oscars. All he needed was a platform where people could notice him and he would be on his way. A staffer from the show met him and guided him to the soundstage, where he spotted Lionel, the British director he had met yesterday at the audition. He was reintroduced to the show's producer and head writer, Betsy, who had also been there. She complimented him on his performance. "I've never seen anyone rebound from catastrophe to triumph quite so spectacularly. That's just what we want to see in Alexander." Lionel breezed over and asked Betsy a quick question before the next take. He was delighted to see Quinn. "Why if it isn't our Alexander! Good to see you again, my boy. And aren't you fliing out that shirt nicely today. Don't get too used to that. You know our motto here: It's either 'no shirts' or 'no show'." Betsy led Quinn on a quick tour of the set and introduced him to more people than he could ever hope to remember, including the cameramen, makeup people, even the other writers. When they got to wardrobe, two costumers sized up the new arrival. "It'll be a pleasure to dress you," said a slender young man, while his older female counterpart remarked, "Before the writers figure out how to undress you." "Yeah, I've heard that clothing isn't a big chunk of the budget here," said Quinn. Betsy asked Quinn to take off his shirt. "Maybe it'll give our designers here some ideas." Quinn did as he was asked, although he figured the male costumer was already getting ideas before Quinn disrobed. Betsy was surprised to see how pumped Quinn looked today. "That's funny. We were a little worried that you weren't buff enough yesterday, but I can't imagine why we thought that." "Ooh," said the young designer, "I really like those leather cuffs. You'll have to tell me where you got them. And what an interesting ring. Is that sapphire?" "Honestly, I don't know what it is. But I was hoping I could actually wear these things on the show. They seem like the sort of stuff that Alexander would wear, and they really helped me find the character." Betsy nodded and said they would consider it. As the designers took initial measurements for Alexander's wardrobe. Quinn idly fiddled with his ring. His fingers had grown beefier, like the rest of his body. They might be forced to let him wear the ring as part of his costume, because it didn't seem like it was going to budge. He heard a knock on the door and saw three very fit and handsome young men hanging in the doorway. "We heard there was new meat," said the swarthy one in the front. "Welcome to Topless Hospital, Alexander." * * * At the end of the workday, several of Damon's co-workers asked if he wanted to join them at happy hour to celebrate the end of the week. Damon was surprised and attributed their friendliness to his new look and attitude. If he thought back, he would have recalled that they were all very friendly to him when he started on the job, frequently inviting him to go drinking or to come to someone's party, but after Damon consistently turned them down out of shyness and insecurity, they stopped asking. Damon still turned them down tonight, but at least he had a genuine excuse to offer for once. "I think I'll be doing something with my fr...my BOYfriend," he smiled, shutting down his computer. He felt light on his feet as he strolled to the parking garage and called Quinn. Damn. Voicemail. "Hi, babe, it's Damon. Damie. Hope everything was extra special on your first day! I was thinking we could go out for sushi and then I saw online there's a big dance at Arena which we might want to do after." Maybe he was being too bossy. Didn't want to spoil things by pushing too hard. "Unless you've got other ideas. Whatever. Anyway, give me a call and let me know, okay? Okay, byeeee." He hung up and considered texting too, but he didn't want to seem too needy. Quinn was probably still busy at the studio. Damon was sure he would call back when he got the chance. * * * "More tequila!", shouted Enrico, who played a brooding but sexy doctor on the soap. He was seated at the innermost side of the round booth at the Mexican restaurant, with each arm hanging over the shoulders of a large-breasted young woman. "And more chips!", shouted Terry, who played a streetwise but sexy doctor on the soap and whose entire left hand was currently inserted below the waistline of the tight jeans worn by the buxom young woman who was currently nibbling his ear in the booth. "And more salsa!", shouted Chad, who played a naive but sexy doctor on the soap and was currently "Lady and the Tramp"-ing a nacho chip clenched in his teeth, crunching his way toward the giggly young woman attempting to keep the other end of the chip between her front teeth. "And more tequila!", shouted Quinn, who had just spent his first day getting to know his future co-stars and was now getting a first-hand glimpse of the kind of raucousness one could drum up on a Friday night with the benefit of minor televised fame and a secure paying gig. Not that outgoing, handsome guys like these would have had trouble making friends at any bar they entered, but they became even more popular when they told these girls that they were footing the bill. Terry leaned over to Quinn and whispered, "We know you're not on salary yet. We'll cover you too. Just have fun!" At the moment, Quinn was having fun with the petite young woman sitting on his knee who was rubbing her hand across the smooth skin of Quinn's chest through the gap in his open shirt. She couldn't stop telling him how much she loved men with big muscles. Someone else at the table must have felt the same way, as Quinn felt bare toes sliding their way under the cuff of his pants and along his shin. At first, he suspected "Lady", but she was sitting fully on the bench of the booth with her feet tucked underneath her butt. No, the mystery footsie player was "the Tramp". Chad may be playfully eating chips for the rest of the world to see, but his tootsies were privately making moves on Quinn. The woman on Quinn's knee took Quinn's sudden erection as a compliment and gave him a big kiss, but Quinn kept his eyes fixed on Chad. When the four actors finally staggered out of the cantina, Quinn had ditched the petite woman and was having trouble finding where to insert the key into the lock of his car -- even thought it was an unlocked convertible with the top and windows down. Chad wandered over, asking if Quinn needed any help. Quinn informed him, "I'm fine." "You sure are," Chad whispered in Quinn's ear, discreetly sliding his palm across Quinn's crotch. Quinn turned instinctively to kiss him, but Chad pulled back. "Not here. Come with me, I've got a beach house." Chad yelled to Enrico and Terry, "Looks like the newbie's a lightweight. I'm gonna make sure he gets home. See you guys on Monday!" Quinn followed Chad to his car, which turned out to be a red Corvette. It took all of Quinn's remaining self-control not to ejaculate then and there. He climbed into the passenger seat and placed his hand lovingly on the stick shift. Chad shut his door, put his hand on top of Quinn's and planted a kiss on Quinn's lips. Quinn felt like his body was liquefying. As the Corvette roared away toward the coast, a faint buzz was emerging from the trunk of Quinn's convertible back in the parking lot. When Quinn had gone to pump some iron with the other guys at the show's full-service exercise room, Quinn had tossed his cell phone into his gym bag. Where it still sat. In Quinn's trunk. * * * Damon hung up, frustrated that Quinn wasn't calling him back. Maybe he'd "come to his senses" and gone back to Renee. Damon started to beat himself up for becoming so attached so quickly to Quinn, when Quinn obviously could have pretty much anyone he wanted...of any gender. But before he could sink into depression, Damon rallied his spirits. While draining the last of a bottle of white wine he had bought on the way home, a bottle he had hoped he would be sharing with Quinn, Damon was modeling for himself in the bathroom mirror, trying on various items of his new wardrobe. He wrapped his arms around his smooth body, pursed his lips and waggled his semi-hard cock which hung loose through his fly. "Suck my dick, Quinn Brooks," he shouted defiantly. He stuffed his phone and wallet into a kicky little man-purse, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door and into the night. Damon found a parking spot on the street a mere six blocks away from the club. He had gelled his blue hair so it jutted straight forward, hanging off his head like an extended cliff in a Road Runner cartoon. He wore a sheer short-sleeved shirt, Levi cut-offs so short that the bottom of the pockets were hanging out, and a pair of navy-blue Keds. If he was at all hesitant about his first solo excursion into gay bars since his big transformation, it wasn't evident in his purposeful stride and steel-eyed glare. Tonight, he was definitely on the prowl. After 45 minutes waiting in line, Damon was reconsidering the wisdom of a sheer shirt and shorts on a chilly September night. By the time he got in, he was sure his skin was now color-coordinated with his hair, but it felt good to finally be indoors and surrounded by hundreds of male bodies which were both hot and warm. His energy level was high, he was making flirty eye contact, he was taking the initiative to start unintelligible shouted conversations as the beat pounded relentlessly and the floor periodically filled with fog. On the surface, he was having a good time, but it wasn't the same without Quinn nearby. Damon headed to the bar for another glass of wine and pulled his phone from his bag. Still no messages. Even when Quinn used to blow off all of Damon's invitations to go out and do something, he had been unfailingly polite in promptly getting back to Damon. This wasn't like him. At least it wasn't like the old him. Damon shoved his phone back into his bag and pulled out a wallet to pay for his drink. He heard a husky voice behind him say, "I got this one, cutie." Damon turned around and discovered an enormous bear of a man looming behind him. His long dark hair in a ponytail, the man wore a leather vest, pants and boots, and heavy silver chains around his neck. His chunky arms and chest were heavily tattooed, but it was hard to make out any of them due to his heavy body hair. Damon was pretty sure that was a mermaid on the guy's forearm, but the hair made her look more like a werewolf. "You look cold, little buddy," the man said as he paid for Damon's drink and ordered a Miller Lite for himself. "Maybe you could warm me up," said Damon, leaning against the bar and sticking out his ass provocatively. Damon didn't think this guy was really his type. Then again, he was barely out of the closet. How could he be so sure what his type was? He clinked his wine glass with the man's beer can and smiled, wishing Quinn would return his calls. * * * The Corvette reached Chad's oceanside home astonishingly quickly, or maybe Quinn just hadn't been paying attention to the time or the traffic. Through the entire drive, his eyes had been fixed on Chad, his collar-length strawberry-blond curls, his slightly pug nose, his plump lips, the whisps of facial hair, the freckles on his suntanned skin, his toned biceps and triceps which flexed every time he turned the steering wheel, his strong hands wrapped in leather driving gloves. Quinn had never felt free to ogle another man blatantly like this and he was enjoying the sensation. Sure, he had been checking out Damon's body over the past couple of days, and he appreciated Damon's loyalty and friendship. Maybe he even loved the little guy. But Alexander would never let a prime cut of meat like Chad go undevoured. And could Quinn really give an authentic performance as the sexually omnivorous Alexander if the only gay sex he'd ever had was with one twink? Chad kept the lights low as they entered his cozy beach house. The sound of the waves, crashing then receding, provided a constant pulse that echoed through the building. As he followed Chad, he couldn't help but notice how many framed photos of Chad lined the walls and were propped on the furniture. No photos of Chad with anyone, just solo shots of him fishing or surfing, plus plenty of publicity headshots. Most of the living room had been made into a home gym, with windows offering an amazing view of the ocean to the west and floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the south wall. "Want anything?", Chad asked from the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open, stocked with healthy foods and protein shakes on the lower shelves but an entire shelf of various beers at the top. Quinn also noticed that Chad had casually shed all of his clothes on the way to the kitchen, and the refrigerator light was now illuminating Chad's impressive musculature and outlining the shape of his substantial cock. Quinn stripped off his shirt and strode confidently into the kitchen, tilting Chad's head back and wrapping his lips around Chad's. Chad loosened Quinn's belt and tried to nudge Quinn's pants down, but Quinn's muscles had grown again today and the pants would not slip easily around Quinn's now massive glutes. Quinn grabbed one side of his open fly in each hand, pulling apart and shredding the fabric enough that he could step out of his pants. Chad tried to say something, but Quinn's tongue in his mouth made him unintelligible. He pulled back and breathlessly instructed Quinn, "The bench, the bench," pointing across the room to the home gym. The two impressive physical specimens made their way across the living room without ever letting each other go. Quinn sat down on an exercise bench and lowered Chad's ass onto his now erect penis. Quinn was rock-hard and was really getting off on Chad's body. Chad was also getting off on Chad's body. Chad moaned with pleasure as he gazed at his ecstatic expression in the mirror. He reached up and grabbed the lat pulldown bar on the exercise machine, both to steady himself and to study how beautifully the refrigerator light outlined his exquisite deltoids and biceps. He pulled down the bar to give himself a little extra pump to admire. After Quinn came the first time, they switched over to the inclined press bench. After that, the sofa. Then, the carpet. Eventually, the beach. Occasionally, Quinn would try to ask a question, but Chad shushed him quickly each time, not wanting to be distracted from his own sensations. By the time the sun rose, Quinn felt he knew every inch of Chad's body and barely anything about Chad's brain. Inside his own brain, Quinn could hear Alexander asking, "Isn't that enough?" * * * Before he even opened his eyes, Damon knew something was wrong. The sounds around him were unfamiliar, for one thing. The din of freeway traffic was so deafening that he felt like he must be lying on an exit ramp. The mattress beneath him was so lumpy and uncomfortable, he thought it must be stuffed with bowling balls, and he could feel an errant spring poking through the fitted sheet and scratching against his stomach. His asshole felt raw, his stomach queasy, his mouth parched. As his tongue explored his mouth, it detected notes of alcohol, tobacco and rubber. His whole head felt funny, beyond a typical hangover. He felt drained of energy and lacking in confidence. In that respect, Damon felt just like...old Damon. He finally risked opening his eyes, which weren't ready for the blast of sunlight shining freely through the room's nearly transparent curtains. Damon was in a shabby motel room, with unexplainable splotches staining the stucco ceiling, decades of cigarette residue coating the wallpaper and god knows what mixture of bodily fluids clinging to the matted strands of green shag carpeting. He was lying naked on a double bed with grimy sheets and several used condoms. Careful where he stepped, Damon stood up and peeked through the drapes. No wonder the traffic sounded so loud -- the freeway couldn't have been more than forty feet away. Damon walked gingerly to the bathroom, where soggy towels covered the floor. He leaned against the sink and checked himself in the mirror for any damage, but his face and body were still smooth and pale, except for the thin pink scratch mark across his tummy from the bedspring. He had major blue bedhead and had lost the stud from his left ear somewhere, but his cock ring was still in place. He couldn't put a finger on what was missing until he noticed his finger. His left ring finger. His ring was gone! He tried to remember who he might have been here with. He knew it wasn't Quinn, although he wished it had been. The last thing he could remember was drinking far too much wine at the club with...some big hairy guy. A big hairy guy who was paying a lot of attention to Damon, pawing his skinny arms and his perky butt. Could he possibly have come here with that guy? He sucked on something caught in his front teeth and pulled out a short, curly, black hair. Not exactly DNA proof, but that pretty well confirmed his suspicions. He wondered how long ago the guy had left, and whether he would be returning. As Damon looked around the room, he couldn't find his clothes. He checked under the bed. No clothes, but he saw a few other items there which were currently in the midst of decaying. Nothing in any of the dresser drawers except for a bible, from which someone at some point had torn out the entire Old Testament. The people who used this room probably didn't consult the Ten Commandments all that often anyway. No clothes in the bathroom, no clothes behind the TV, no clothes hanging on the lampshade. Damon even poked his head out the door, but saw no clothes outside. Shit, did the big guy ditch him here and take all of his clothes as well as his ring? Why would anyone do that? Unless... Damon suddenly got a sinking feeling. He hadn't noticed his man-purse anywhere in the room either. Where he kept his iPhone. And his keys. And his wallet. With his credit cards. And his driver's license. That showed his home address. Which the big guy could be ransacking at this very moment. Wrapping a soggy bath towel around his skinny waist. Damon ran to the motel office and spoke to the woman working behind two sheets of bulletproof glass. He shouted through the slot at the bottom of the window, "Were you working last night when I checked in?" The woman droned, "Yes, sir." She couldn't say she spent much time studying the faces of the motel's guests, but she was fairly confident that only one scrawny blue-haired white boy had registered last night. "Do you remember who was with me? Maybe a big hairy guy? Leather vest?" She shook her head. "I don't recall anyone with you, sir." Damon banged his head against the window, rattling the bulletproof glass. He leaned down again and called weakly through the gap, "Thank you for your help." The woman said, mechanically, "You have a nice day, sir." Damon's bare feet slapped against the cement as he made his way back to the room. When he tried the knob, he realized that the door had locked behind him. But there hadn't been a key inside the room anyway. Besides, he had no belongings left in there to retrieve. Tying a tighter knot in the towel around his waist, Damon took a seat at the side of the motel's drained pool, dangling his feet into the air at the deep end. Sure, he felt ripped off and dejected, but there was something more bothering him. Those feelings of pride, confidence and self-worth which had elevated his mood in the past few days were totally gone and he had reverted back to the same old meek, self-doubting Damon. He had felt so great dancing with Quinn on the pier. No, the good feeling came earlier, when they were at the French restaurant. No, it was definitely earlier than that. When they were fucking, Damon thought, starting to wonder if he could really have been that lucky to go to bed with Quinn Brooks. But, no, he was feeling positive about himself even before the fucking. Way back in the old lady's shop when Quinn bought him... ...the ring! * * * Quinn woke to something hard beneath him and something sticky on his face. As he felt around, he realized he was flat on his chest on Chad's redwood balcony, his naked buns baking in the mid-morning sun. He reached up to his forehead, where a Post-It note had been attached. Quinn peeled it off and tried to read Chad's nearly illegible printing. "OUT 4 A GUN BRITE BUCK"? With a little more study, Quinn deciphered it as "OUT 4 A RUN. B RITE BACK." Quinn stood up, giving the neighbors brunching on their deck next door a clear view of Quinn Junior. Quinn just smiled and waved. "Morning!" Quinn slid open the balcony door and stepped into Chad's living room. He couldn't resist checking out his reflection in the wall of mirrors. Damn, you just keep getting better, he thought with a wicked smile, grabbing his cock in one hand while he reached for a banana with the other. He peeled the banana and devoured it quickly, then scoured the kitchen for more food. His metabolism must be going nuts with his body's sudden growth, as he was famished. He whipped up a protein smoothie, and then another, before he felt even slightly satisfied. The idea of a run along the beach sounded nice. Maybe he would catch up to Chad. He searched the house for running gear that would fit him. He located some Speedo Jammer shorts that he could just barely squeeze into and hit the beach barefoot. He was still getting used to carrying so much extra muscle, but his endurance seemed to have increased along with it, and he found himself racing along faster than he had ever run in his life. He spotted another runner sprinting ahead of him, his lean muscles clearly visible. If it were possible, this guy might have negative body fat. Quinn shifted into overdrive to catch up with the guy, then eased back to stay even. The runner clearly felt challenged, so he kicked it up and pulled away, but Quinn wasn't going to let him get away. For the next mile, the lead seesawed until Quinn finally hit the wall and collapsed on the sand. The other runner laughed, victorious, then jogged back toward Quinn, still moving to avoid cramping up. "You move pretty fast for such a big guy," the runner told him. Quinn would have responded, but he was still panting too heavily. "You got that much endurance at everything?" Quinn stared at the runner's shock of red hair, his gaunt but handsome face, his fit body and the bulge under his fluorescent yellow running shorts. Five minutes later, Quinn was underneath a pier, leaning against a support column with his hands clutching the runner's shoulder muscles. The runner's red hair bobbed back and forth as he worked his tongue along Quinn's arching shaft. Quinn brushed a thumb gently along the runner's cheek. When did I become such a slut?, Quinn wondered, but at that moment, he shot his load, dislodging any deeper thoughts for the time being. * * * It's amazing what people throw away, if you just go looking for it. Damon knew he wasn't going to make it all the way back to West Hollywood barefoot and wearing nothing but a towel. His car hadn't been in the motel's parking lot, meaning either the hairy guy had stolen it or they had driven here in the hairy guy's vehicle, reducing Damon's current options to walking or hitchhiking. He checked in dumpsters and trash cans as he walked along and, one by one, found discarded bits of clothing which more or less fit him. He ignored the stains and the stench that coated the sparkly stretch pants and the One Direction t-shirt. He spotted several pairs of sneakers hanging from their laces across telephone lines, but couldn't figure out a way to retrieve them. Eventually, he located a bamboo sandal for his right foot and a zebra-striped Vans slip-on for the left. Frankly, he had worn sillier outfits in the past few days. By the time he reached Melrose Avenue, he must have walked ten miles. He desperately needed water, he was developing blisters on his right foot, and his pale skin was guaranteed to be lobster-colored and painful by tomorrow morning. But it was worth it. He had finally made it to the old lady's store. He could get an answer to why both he and Quinn had experienced such radical changes, and why Damon had suddenly lost his mojo this morning. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He noticed a little sign on the inside of the door bearing the face of a clock, declaring "WE'LL BE BACK" with the hands set to 2pm. Damon slumped to the sidewalk, exhausted. Enough pedestrians took pity on this pathetic-looking guy and tossed him spare change that he was able to buy himself a bottle of water at a convenience store across the street. Walking out of the store, he saw the old lady unlocking the door. Seeing a disheveled crazy man bolting through traffic mid-block and heading straight toward her, the shopkeeper hurriedly got inside and slammed the door in his face. Damon screamed through the front window, "You gotta tell me what's going on! Look, remember me?" He pointed to his blue hair. She finally realized who it was. "Someone stole my ring. I need your help!" The storekeeper unlocked the door and let him inside, reeling from his pungent aroma. When he moved toward a rack of delicate vintage clothes, she said, "Please don't stand by those. I'd never get the stench out." He looked too weak to stand, so she led him to her stool behind the counter. Damon finished off his bottle of water and took a minute to catch his breath before speaking softly. "I need you to tell me about those rings you sold us. What do they actually do?" She composed her thoughts. "Well, to put it simply, they help you become the person you want to be. They free you of your inhibitions and let you explore your options." "So the ring didn't make me dye my hair and everything else? It just gave me the balls to do it?" "The ring may have given your balls a little...nudge. The color of the ring showed where you were on the scale from black being totally straight to bright blue being totally gay. Only you can say where on that scale you feel the most genuinely yourself." Damon thought back. Before he put on the ring, he was barely acknowledging his sexuality, let alone embracing it. After the ring, he felt like he could be wild and try anything, no matter how outrageous. Maybe he had gone a little overboard, probably overcompensating for years of self-repression, but somewhere in the turquoise range, Damon felt like he was in a comfort zone, living his life the way he had always wished he could. "So if I want to feel that way again, I guess I need to buy another ring?" The woman took Damon's hand and assured him, "If the ring taught you who the real you is, then just be the real you. You don't need a ring for that." Damon considered that. Maybe the ring had helped him realize that he did have the strength to be himself. "But what about the ring you sold my friend?" "He asked for something that would make him feel gay. Didn't it work?" "It worked great. But he wanted to ACT gay! For a role! On TV! He didn't want to BE gay in real life!" "Are you sure about that?" Damon still wasn't, entirely. Quinn definitely embraced his changes once they started happening, but Damon was never sure if that was just research for his character. "So once he takes off the ring, I guess he'll go back to acting the way he did before?" "Maybe. Unless he decides he likes his new self better." Damon shook his head. If he hadn't seen and experienced these changes personally, he would never have thought them possible. "You really should've explained all this up front." "Ah, but life is all about unexpected discoveries. Think of all the fun you would have missed." Damon looked down at the hodgepodge of stinky clothing he was wearing and didn't feel very fun right now. "How about the other stuff you sold us? Like that cock ring? Did that read my mind too and adjust my cock to the length I liked best?" "No, that just made your penis bigger," she said, matter-of-fact. Damon shoulders sagged. "Could I borrow your phone, please?" She pointed Damon to a rotary phone on the wall in the back room, then had to talk him through how to use it. He wanted to call Quinn and check up on him, but he had no clue what Quinn's number was or really what anyone's number was. They were all stored in memory on Damon's stolen iPhone. Instead, he got the number for a cab company that could take him the rest of the way home. He borrowed money from the shopkeeper to pay for the taxi. When he reached his apartment, all he wanted to do was walk inside and collapse on his futon. But he got a bad feeling when he saw the key stuck in the front door. Damon turned the knob, swung the door open and discovered that the big hairy guy had indeed come by and stolen most of his belongings, including the futon. All of Damon's new clothes were gone, leaving behind only the dullest or most unsightly relics from his past. He really would be starting from scratch, but at least he now had a sense of where he wanted to end up. He wasn't likely to be as flamboyant as he had gotten in the past few days, but he would never go back to being Mr. Camouflage. * * * After his blowjob under the pier, Quinn kept strolling toward Venice Beach. When he reached the outdoor weightlifting area known as Muscle Beach, he stopped to watch the bodybuilders working out for the enjoyment of the spectators passing by. Quinn's own muscles had grown huge enough that he could fit right in, and he found himself itching to get in there and lift. He felt a gigantic palm on his chest as he tried to enter and a towering muscleman asked Quinn if he was a member. Quinn explained that he was just passing by and didn't have any money on him. A short but powerfully built man nearby shouted, "Tramon, let him in. I'll pay his fee for the day." Tramon let Quinn onto the hallowed ground, and Quinn approached his benefactor. "Thanks, man. You didn't have to do that." "Call me curious. I wanted to see if all those muscles were just for show." He extended his hand, told Quinn his name was Dwayne, and offered to spot Quinn on the clean-and-jerk. Half an hour later, Quinn and Dwayne were back at Dwayne's condo, smoking pot and jerking each other off. After a while, Quinn asked to borrow some clothes from Dwayne, then continued on his walking tour of the coast. He found himself locking eyes with every cute guy he walked past. Most of them looked away in disgust and embraced their girlfriends as proof of their lack of interest, but he did end up making out with three of them (two as a couple) before the sun went down. His needs were growing insatiable. He fell asleep on a bench and spent most of Sunday wandering up and down the beach, trying to remember where Chad lived. Eventually it occurred to him to call the office of the soap opera and ask if they could give him the address. When he finally convinced the operator that he was really a cast member on the show who had just started on Friday, he was patched through to a frantic production assistant, who immediately connected him to Betsy. "Where have you been? We've been trying to track you down all weekend!" "I dunno," said Quinn, "just kickin' back." "Everyone was so excited after meeting you that we've decided to introduce your character sooner, in the episode we shoot tomorrow. I've already emailed you the script pages." "Actually, I'm not at home and don't have access to a computer right now. Is there any way I can get a hard copy?" "Of course. Where are you?" Quinn looked around for a landmark. "I'm by the ocean." "Could you narrow that down a bit? At least tell me it's the Pacific." Quinn walked to the nearest streetcorner and gave her an address. A production assistant arrived within half an hour, and he asked the PA to drive him to the Mexican restaurant where his car was still parked. He went inside and ate a few burritos while he studied his script, then sat in the convertible for a few more hours, reading and rereading his lines. By the time he arrived at the studio in the morning, Quinn was locked in the zone, thinking like Alexander, being Alexander. Betsy was relieved to see Quinn and led him toward his dressing room, where she proudly pointed out the star bearing the name "Quinn Brooks". "What do you think?", she asked. Quinn seemed ambivalent, which surprised her. "You look unhappy. It's usually a pretty big moment when an actor gets his own dressing room for the first time." "No, it's great," Quinn said in a tone that conveyed it wasn't great. "Is there any way you could put Alexander's name on the door instead? It might help me to stay in character." "Maybe you won't want to stay in character. Alexander is kind of a dick." Betsy laughed lightheartedly, but Quinn took it personally. "I don't know. I think he's got a lot of admirable qualities. He's a bit all over the place in the script, but I have some notes on how we can make him more consistent." Betsy smiled stiffly. Was Quinn unaware that she was not only his boss but also the person who had written that "all over the place" script? "I look forward to that," she lied, and led him to wardrobe. Quinn took off his shirt and the male costumer gasped as he saw how much bigger Quinn had become over the weekend. As Quinn tried on his first outfit, he couldn't even get his arms through the sleeves. The female costumer sighed and informed Betsy it was going to take them a while to alter Quinn's wardrobe. Betsy nodded, then placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I know I said we wanted you buff, but maybe you should lay off the exercise for a bit. We wanted a hunk, not the Hulk." Betsy was called away, but the male costumer whispered to Quinn, "Can you tell me what you're taking? I've never seen results like this." Quinn looked indifferent, so the costumer returned his attention to measuring Quinn's inseam. Lionel, the director, walked past wardrobe and noticed Quinn. "Oh, there's our dear boy. Big first day, eh, Quinn?" Quinn glanced away from the mirror where he was admiring his physique to address Lionel. "I'd prefer if you would call me Alexander." Lionel chuckled until Quinn's expression convinced him the request was serious. "Oh, by all means, Alexander. We shall await you on the set. Verily." "I'll be there whenever these two are done," pointing toward the costumers. Lionel nodded and left. When he encountered Betsy on the soundstage, he informed her, "Mr. Daniel Day-Lewis would prefer that we call him Alexander for the duration." Betsy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to cut the kid a break. Maybe it's just first day jitters." The production was running an hour late by the time Quinn reached the floor, the costumers still making some last-minute alterations. Chad approached Quinn and asked quietly, "Where did you take off to the other day? I was worried sick about you all weekend." Quinn waved a hand at him dismissively. "Please, I'm trying to focus." Chad fumed, thinking several words which he would not be allowed to say on the show. Lionel began to block the first scene, but as soon as they reached the first line, Quinn -- ahem, ALEXANDER -- loudly voiced his concerns about some of the dialogue. "Does any of this seem far-fetched to the rest of you? I realize it is only a soap opera, but come on. Can we get the writers in here to punch this up a bit?" Lionel pulled Quinn aside and whispered, "I don't disagree that you might have some valid points. Unfortunately, we're already behind schedule, Quinn." "Alexander", said Quinn. "Yes. Quite." Betsy walked over, asking what the problem was. "The problem," said Quinn, "is the words and the fact that I have to say them." Betsy bristled, trying desperately to control her temper. "I'm afraid there's no time for rewrites right now, so if you can just deliver the lines as written, maybe we can talk about future scripts when we have a bit more time to think." "Yeah, but this is the first time that people are going to see me and they'll think that I'm the one who's bad because I'll be the one saying these shitty fucking lines." Betsy was seething. Although she was a foot shorter than Quinn, she brought all of her anger and passion to bear and told him in a low but firm whisper. "I am going to let you go home and rest, because you are clearly not in the right frame of mind to work today. And while you are there, I would like you to think long and hard about whether you want to stay there, or whether you would prefer to come back here and do your job. You can call my assistant when you've decided." She spun on her heel and exited the silent soundstage. Lionel nervously called for an early lunch. * * * Quinn drove home in a fury. If he encountered any red lights along the way, he certainly didn't notice or obey them. He screeched his convertible into its parking space and stormed into his apartment. He had blown it. He'd submerged so deeply into his character that sensible, fun-loving Quinn wasn't even on that soundstage today. Just Alexander the arrogant prick. Quinn looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and was sickened by what he saw. Everything about him seemed phony, like he was looking at someone he no longer recognized. He ripped off Alexander's shirt and pants and stuffed them in the garbage. He yanked the leather and silver cuffs off his wrists and flung them across the room. Immediately, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Exhausted, he flopped face first onto his futon, his arms hanging limply over the side. He sobbed into a pillow and breathed heavily as he found himself relaxing, unaware that his body was deflating like a popped Macy's parade balloon. The giant muscles that had exploded on his frame since last week gradually receded, their sculpted definition softening, his former leanness returning to his frame. When he reached the size he had been when this all began, the ring on his left hand was pulled downward by gravity and fell onto the floor. Quinn let out a deep exhale and fell asleep. Hours later, after the sun had set, he was awakened by a tapping on his door. He stretched his arms and shouted, "Who is it?" "Damon." Quinn smiled. He needed a friend right now. He walked to the door and opened it. Damon stood on the welcome mat with a look of concern. His hair was still blue, but without any gel and combed straight back, looking about as conservative as blue hair can look. His skin, by contrast, was sunburnt red. He still had a stud in his right earlobe, but wore no eye makeup. His skinny unadorned arms hung slack from the sleeves of a white v-neck t-shirt, tucked into tight black jeans. His nails still had blue polish, with his toes wriggling in flip-flops from the discount bin at CVS. The first thing Damon noticed about Quinn was that his old body was back and that the cuffs were off his wrists. He was happy to see that, since he never had any complaints with the way Quinn looked to begin with. He also saw that Quinn was no longer wearing the ring. "Hey," said Damon, optimistically. "Hey," said Quinn, exhaustedly. "Just hadn't seen you in a few days. Wanted to make sure you were okay." "That's nice. You're probably the only person in L.A. who gives a shit." "Oh, come on, there's..." Damon thought. "I'm sure there's lots of people. How are things going on the soap?" "I was a complete jackass today, so they sent me home." Quinn fell heavily onto his futon. "Sent you home? Did they fire you?" "Not exactly. They told me to think about if I wanted to come back." "And you're gonna tell them yes, right? You can't just blow off an opportunity like this." Damon risked sitting on the futon beside Quinn, but didn't make any physical contact. He had no idea how much of the past few days Quinn even remembered, or if he'd be embarrassed or ashamed about how intimate the two of them had gotten. "I don't know. I'm not sure I want to be that Alexander guy." "I know this isn't my specialty, but do you really have to BE him? Can't you just, like, ACT?" Quinn laughed for the first time all day. He reached up and slapped Damon on the shoulder, giving his body a friendly shake. "I can always count on you to put me in my place, Damie." Damie? Quinn had never called Damon that until he started wearing the ring. Quinn repositioned himself so he was kneeling on the futon. He put his arms around Damon's shoulders and kissed his neck. Damon got goosebumps, but knew that he had to tell Quinn everything he had heard from the shopkeeper about the magic ring. After hearing Damon's explanation, Quinn leaned back on his elbows and stared at the ceiling to process this new information. "So everything I did while I was wearing the ring was just me exploring my sexuality so I could learn what felt the most honest and real?" "Yeah, basically." "Kind of the way I figure out how to play a character. I keep doing the wrong things until I finally stumble into what feels right." "If that's how it works. You're the actor here." "Oh, I am? Does that mean I can be the one who wears the makeup again?" Damon turned with a smile. "I'm still wearing the fruit-punch lipstick." "Really?", Quinn asked. He leaned in and gave Damon a quick kiss on the lips. "Mmm. Still as good as I remembered." Damon didn't want to set himself up for getting hurt. He looked Quinn in the eyes and said, "All those feelings you've had over the last few days, you know they might just have been you trying to figure out how to be Alexander. They might have nothing to do with what the real you wants." "Yeah, but the real me is here right now, and he finally knows what he wants." "Seriously?" Quinn grinned. "That woman at the store was right. I've always been a little gay. I just refused to acknowledge it. But for the right guy, I think I can be a lot gay." He pushed Damon back onto the futon and kissed him. Damon yelped a bit as he pulled the v-neck over his head, as the fabric brushed against his sunburn. Quinn helped him wriggle out of his jeans, but they had only been making out for a couple of minutes when Quinn stopped. "Second thoughts?", Damon asked, his worst fears confirmed. "No, I just realized I've really got to act tomorrow. I need you to help me memorize my lines. But first, I'm taking you out to dinner. Just give me a minute to shower up." Quinn hopped to his feet, kissed the top of Damon's head and went into the bathroom. Damon's heart was skipping. He looked down from the edge of the futon and saw Quinn's ring lying on the floor. Damon picked up the little troublemaker and examined it. Hard to believe something so small could cause such huge changes. Damon clutched it in his hand, stood up and walked to the front door. Standing naked in the doorway, he hurled the ring as hard as he could, with no clue where it landed. He was just glad to get rid of it. As he walked back in, he noticed the leather-and-silver cuffs on the floor and pondered what to do with them. Quinn jumped out of the shower, wiped off the mirror and smiled, happy to see himself looking back again. He felt tremendously calm and, for the first time in his life, certain about himself. "Q?", Damon called from the living room, a hint of worry in his voice. "What, D?", asked Quinn as he swung open the door. Damon stood in the middle of the living room, wearing the cuffs on his wrists. In the brief time since he had tried them on, the cuffs had already enlarged the skinny young man's muscles so he resembled a competitive diver. His arms actually had distinct bulges, his pecs and abs had the beginnings of true definition, and his legs, already his best feature, gained significant size and tone. Damon smiled at Quinn and asked, "Can you help me pick out some clothes?"
  21. Mr. Lee had become adept at guessing what his customers wanted before they asked for it, but the man who had just stepped through the front door of his shop was a puzzler. He cut an imposing figure: a muscular six-two, arms crossed, hands tucked under rock-solid biceps. From Mr. Lee's vantage point, the man was a study in blackness, with deep ebony skin, a shaved head, impenetrably dark sunglasses, matching black polo shirt (with no logo of any sort to break up the uniformity), sharply creased dress pants, and thick-soled black boots. Even under normal circumstances, little light filtered through the shop's intentionally grimy windows, but with this man standing between Mr. Lee and the glass, it was like Mr. Lee was caught in the shadow of a solar eclipse. "May I help you?", asked Mr. Lee curiously. "I understand you fulfill unusual requests," said the man in a low, clipped, all-business tone. "How unusual?" "I hear that you can change the human body in ways that most people would consider impossible." "I may have a different definition of impossible than most people." "Let's say, for example, that someone, on short notice, wished to appear older. Or more muscular." To Mr. Lee, the man appeared to be in his early-to-mid-thirties and was extraordinarily fit for a man of any age -- not the sort of customer who would typically ask Mr. Lee for either of these transformations. He added, "I'm asking for a friend." Mr. Lee nodded. Usually someone "asking for a friend" was merely too embarrassed to say they wanted the changes for themselves, but in this case it was plausible -- in fact, more understandable -- than that the man would want such modifications for himself. "Yes, I can do what you ask." The man let down his guard slightly, stepping closer to Mr. Lee and removing his sunglasses -- the whites of his eyes finally providing a contrast from the man's all-black color scheme, although his irises were such a dark brown that they might as well have been black too. His speech patterns retained the staccato rhythms of a military man or police officer, and his tone continued to suggest that the matters they were discussing were of world-shattering importance. "Can you be trusted to maintain the utmost secrecy?" "Of course," said Mr. Lee firmly. "What happens within these walls is private. I never reveal anything about my customers. Even to the police." The man in black allowed himself the slightest of grins, appreciating how Mr. Lee slyly fished for a hint of whether he was being visited by a police officer. The man reached behind him and unclipped a walkie-talkie (black, of course) from the waistline of his pants. "Send in King Joffrey." A black SUV with tinted windows screeched to a halt in front of the shop. The man inside Mr. Lee's shop swiftly swung open the door. A slight figure bounded nimbly from the vehicle, a black hoodie shielding his entire head from view. As soon as the newcomer was inside, his advance man closed the door and the SUV sped off. The man who had been speaking with Mr. Lee looked with concern at the dirt-covered windows which allowed in some light, and could allow outsiders to peer in. "You got any shades on those windows? I don't want any bypassers to see my friend here." Mr. Lee merely raised his hands in the air and the opacity of the windows changed to 100%, leaving the three figures in the shop illuminated solely by a single spotlight shining on the slender figure in the hoodie. "That's awesome," he said in a boyish tenor. "We should work an effect like that into the stage show!" He lowered his hoodie to reveal a youthful man with an enormous, carefully shaped cascade of blond hair. "You gotta tell me the trick." "No trick. Magic. You are a magician, maybe?" "I ain't no magician," the young man scoffed and looked up into the eyes of his protector, who towered over him by a solid six inches. "Dude doesn't even know who I am?" The large man turned to Mr. Lee. "I'm sorry, I should have done the introductions. Mister...Lee, is it? This is Billy Farrow. Perhaps you've heard of him?" "Pleased to meet you, young Mr. Barrow." Mr. Lee preferred to feign ignorance in such cases. If he was thought to be merely an ignorant, out-of-touch old Chinese man, people tended to be more willing to trust his vow of secrecy. But Mr. Lee had grand-daughters, and anyone in America within earshot of a girl between the ages of 9 and 13 was aware of Billy Farrow. He had first gained notice as a precocious 12-year-old by posting Vine videos: a new six-second song every day. This led to his major break the following year as a contestant on the music competition show, "America Wants S'more", in which viewers voted whether to let the singers continue performing or to drop them into a vat of liquid marshmallow. Billy Farrow survived to be the only contestant not "creamed" during his season, and the cult of Billy exploded. His fans were almost exclusively tween girls (who called themselves "Farrow-noids" and whose frenetic outbursts at concerts had been dubbed "Farrow-moans") and twink-loving gay men. Both groups loved him for one simple reason, and it wasn't his music: Billy Farrow was beautiful. In those first crude videos, he was unquestionably cute, but it was the fragile baby-fat cuteness which the horrors of puberty could potentially mangle into something truly unsightly. But by the "AMS" finale, it was obvious that this kid was developing into a fine-featured stunner. His trademark was the Farrow Flop, a swoop of sunkissed blond hair that hung over his right eye all the way down to his elegant cheekbone. Rumors abounded on the internet that he did not actually HAVE a right eye, which merely intensified fans' curiosity. Since it would be such a letdown to reveal that his hidden eye was simply an ordinary eye (albeit one sparkling purple in color, like the other), his manager had decided to maintain the mystery until such time as Billy's fortunes began to wane and he needed to do something dramatic to attract publicity. For a while, Billy tried to come up a signature gesture he could do whenever taking a picture on a red carpet. One such concept consisted of pointing both index fingers at the camera and winking his left eye...but since his right eye was hidden by the Flop, it just looked like his eyes were closed. Billy had recently turned 18 but was retaining his androgynous beauty remarkably well. Hormones had lowered his voice a bit, although he could still hit the high notes of his earliest hits. His fans still adored him and enough were continuing to buy his music rather than steal it that he had become a phenomenally wealthy teenager. His hard-nosed manager, Alan Wiseman, who had leapt aboard the Billy bandwagon after hearing just six seconds of his music, was insistent that Billy would not become another Justin Bieber or Lindsay Lohan or...god, the length of the list he could compile was truly depressing. Therefore, Billy's public image remained unsullied, if a bit whitebread. He spoke of loving his family and steering clear of alcohol and drugs and saving himself until he finds the right person because his life these days was "like bonkers cray-zee with traveling and recording and stuff". Yes, he said "stuff". That's how squeaky clean his public image was. He had been allowed to get his ears pierced, because tween girls thought that was "hot", but tattoos were vetoed after a focus group deemed them "gross" and "too street". But Wiseman was mindful that Billy was now officially an adult and was starting to chafe at some of the restrictions which had helped make both of them very wealthy. That's why, before Billy's frustrated desires had a chance to erupt into some grotesque and embarrassing spectacle that would be all over TMZ, Billy's chief bodyguard, the monumental Reese Boudreaux, had brought Billy to a whispered-about shop near Chinatown while they had a night off between gigs in San Francisco. If the rumors were true, perhaps Billy could have his own equivalent of the Amish tradition of rumspringa and get some of the rebelliousness out of his system. Reese informed Mr. Lee that Billy was a well-known celebrity who had trouble going out in public without being recognized. Fans had managed to see through previous attempts at disguises and mobbed him wherever he went. Mr. Lee nodded. "So you are not looking for a permanent transformation?" "You can do that?", asked Billy, eager to hear more. Reese poured cold water on Billy's enthusiasm. "Yes, sir, just a temporary change. But one that's foolproof enough that no one will realize that it is really Mr. Farrow." Mr. Lee walked behind his counter and opened a cabinet which seemed to be filled with junk jewelry, neatly organized by color. "For a temporary change, I use these bracelets. They allow you to try out a change to see if you like it before you commit to it for good. So, what would you like to change about yourself, Mr. Darrow?" Billy's success had spoiled him, so that he usually was able to get whatever he wanted, but it was beyond his imagination that he would ever be able to make radical changes to his own body as his whims dictated. His first wish came to mind immediately. "I wanna be taller. Like...six foot...two?" His voice went up, as if he was asking for something impossible with his very first request. Mr. Lee was unfazed. As he sorted through his collection, he instructed Billy, "Please remove all of your other jewelry and take off your clothes." Billy shot Reese a leery look, which Reese translated to Mr. Lee. "Why exactly does he need to get undressed?" "He is about to gain six inches of height. I assume he does not want to ruin his nice clothing." Billy didn't need to hear another word. He took several bracelets from his arms, rings from his fingers, and silver hoops from both earlobes, handing them to Reese, who pocketed them for safe-keeping. He then pulled his hoodie and a designer t-shirt over his head, kicked off his Nikes and slithered out of his skinny jeans. He was about to pull down his red silk bikini briefs when Mr. Lee raised a hand. "You can leave those on for now." Billy seemed relieved that he could maintain a slight amount of modesty. He stood in the spotlight in the center of the store, feeling a little chilly. He glanced at himself in a full-length mirror across the room. Despite the best efforts of a full-time personal trainer who toured with him, Billy's 18-year-old body remained scrawny with only the barest hints of muscle tone. At least the full-body tan he'd gotten during his last vacation in the Virgin Islands hadn't entirely faded. Thanks to a private rooftop suite, he managed not to get a tan line, although a sunburn on his penis had led to a jerking-off hiatus of several excruciating days. Mr. Lee handed a slim metallic red bracelet across the counter to Billy. "Please put this on your left wrist and close the clasp." Billy excitedly slid the bracelet up his slender forearm and clasped it together. As the two sides of the bracelet connected, it triggered a surge of energy to shoot through Billy's body like nothing he had ever experienced. Reese looked concerned as Billy cringed in pain, but Mr. Lee assured him, "The pain is very brief, followed immediately by euphoria." Sure enough, Billy smirked, then grinned, then beamed his famed toothpaste-ad-worthy smile as a warm sensation flooded through him. Although his bones were still holding his body erect, he had the sensation that they had turned into gelatin and were morphing into longer shapes. The change was gradual but dramatic as his body grew upward like a vine. His arms dangled loosely from his shoulders and his spindly legs wobbled a bit at the knees before the calcium resolidified and he once again felt sturdy. Billy opened his eyes and laughed like a kid when he discovered he was now staring eye-to-eye with his stoic bodyguard. "Check it out, Reese! I'm as tall as you now!" "Yeah, yeah, very nice, spaghetti boy." He pointed toward the mirror and Billy spun to admire himself, only to be horrified by the sight. If he felt skinny before, he was now basically a skeleton wrapped in skin, with only a thin band of red silk wrapped around the middle. It was like looking in a carnival funhouse mirror at a gawky, emaciated version of himself, but there was nothing wrong with the mirror. Billy spun toward Mr. Lee and made his next request frantically. "Muscles. I gotta have some muscles." Mr. Lee nodded. "How much muscle? On a scale of zero to ten, where ten is your friend Mr. Reese here, and zero is...you." Billy pondered the choice carefully. He didn't need to be a human tank like Reese, but the idea of suddenly becoming as buff as he wanted was making him greedy. "Eight. Wait, no, six." Mr. Lee went to grab the proper bracelet when Billy blurted out, "Seven. We'll go with seven." Mr. Lee's intuition had already led him to grab an orange bracelet. "Seven it is." Billy put on the new bracelet and again, as soon as he closed the loop around his wrist, a jolt of agony was followed by a soothing sensation in his muscle tissue. He kept his eyes open this time and watched the transformation in the mirror. What no amount of time in the gym had been able to accomplish was suddenly happening spontaneously throughout his body. It was as if someone had hooked his body to a bicycle pump and was inflating him. His neck widened to match his broadening shoulders. In the mirror, he was admiring the swell in his pecs when his eyes fell upon his suddenly visible abs and the deepening V below. Extruding from the bottom of his tautly-stretched silk shorts were now bulging quads and calves that would be the envy of anyone on the Tour de France. The little shop seemed even smaller to Billy now and he was delighted to discover that he could extend his long muscular arms and touch the ceiling with his fingertips. He felt incredible, but this he-man still had the smooth face that was known around the world. "You gotta do something about my face." "But your face is so pretty," Mr. Lee smiled. Billy could wretch. "I'm sick of having a 'pretty' face. I wanna be rugged. I wanna be dangerous. I wanna be a MAN." Mr. Lee understood. "How old this man?" Billy thought a moment. "Young enough not to have wrinkles. Old enough not to get carded." Mr. Lee raised his finger, muttering, "I have just the thing." He handed a yellow bracelet to Billy to put on. He braced himself, now fully prepared for that first jolt, then watched his reflection as his facial features contorted themselves beneath his skinn. He nodded approvingly as his bones gained heft, disrupting the soft contours and smooth jawline that his fans loved and turning him into a brooding hunk with thick eyebrows, a sharply angled jawline and a five-o'clock shadow. He rubbed his immense hand across the bristles on his cheek and fingered the depth of his new chin cleft. He smiled, delighted, and noticed that this new face had killer dimples on top of it all. Billy got goosebumps. He knew what had to come next. He ran his hands through the golden avalanche of hair atop his head. "We gotta get rid of this stupid hair." Mr. Lee frowned. "I have only limited hair to choose from. Maybe you go to a barber and ask for exactly what you want?" Billy was thrilled by the thought of a barber giving the chop to the famous Farrow Flop, but Reese intervened. "No, I'm under specific instructions that he has to emerge with his hair intact." Billy had a concert tomorrow night, and there was no way that Wiseman was going to let his star go onstage without his signature coif. Mr. Lee rummaged around before coming up with a green bracelet. "You try this one." Billy snatched the bracelet from Mr. Lee's hand and snapped it on his wrist immediately. It was hypnotic to watch his carefully fashioned hairdo as it seemed to be absorbed back into his scalp. When only a few millimeters of hair remained above the surface of Billy's scalp, the hair suddenly darkened into a black buzz cut. Without the distraction of the Flop, the stunning masculinity of his new face was even more apparent. Billy's excitement at seeing himself modified was escalating. He needed more, and fast. "Body hair!", he snapped, and Mr. Lee forked over a blue bracelet. In moments, Billy had a lush new layer of wall-to-wall carpeting on his arms, chest, abs and legs. Curious, he looked inside his silk undies and was pleased by the dark bush of pubic hair he found there. But it was obvious that one part of his old body had stubbornly resisted any change so far. "I just gotta have a bigger cock." Reese covered his eyes and shook his head. He could never have envisioned a moment like this when he signed onto the security detail for Billy Farrow three years ago. Mr. Lee kept any obvious reaction hidden, but he had expected this moment to come. Seemingly every man who entered his shop walked out with a larger penis. Even if they had other perceived imperfections that they wanted to fix first, they always seemed to tack on "bigger penis" at the end of their requests, as if they were making an impulse buy at the checkout stand of a convenience store. "Yeah, I need a pack of Marlboros, a fifth of Ketel One and...while you're at it, can you toss in a huge fuckin' dong?" And their size demands often demonstrated a lack of basic knowledge of the dimensions of the orifices into which they would be sticking these penises or the limits of haberdashery to properly accommodate such an enormous member. Nevertheless, Mr. Lee always did his best to give his customers what they wanted. "Bigger length or bigger circumference?", asked Mr. Lee. Billy mulled it for a second, then said hopefully, "Both?" It was always both. Mr. Lee handed an indigo bracelet to Billy, who waved it at Reese. "Hey, Reese, look at the size of my cock ring!" His wrist was now getting crowded with all of these narrow bracelets, but he made room for the new one. The intensity of the rush he got from this one startled Billy, as a flood of testosterone swelled his penis and balls to such a massive size that his silk underwear burst into tatters which fell to the floor...and he wasn't even hard. Even Reese was impressed by what Billy was now packing. Reese turned appreciatively toward Mr. Lee. "I think that covers everything. You happy, Billy?" Billy was so entranced as he stared at his new meat dangling halfway down his thigh that he was only able to nod. "You forget one thing," said Mr. Lee. "His voice." Billy and Reese were amazed they hadn't thought of it. Billy's tenor voice was immediately recognizable to his fans, and it also seemed incongrous emerging from the strapping nude man now fondling himself in the middle of the store. Mr. Lee offered a violet bracelet which Reese snapped onto Billy's forearm. "Thanks, man," Billy grunted in a baritone rumble. His eyes widened and he looked up. "Did that come outta me?" He tested his singing abilities with the first line of his biggest hit, "Baby, You're My Baby". He seemed to have retained all of his vocal skills, just in a lower register. He looked at the rainbow of metal rings on his arm and shook his head in amazement. He felt like a new man. Hell, he WAS a new man. Reese leaned on the counter and pulled out his wallet, asking Mr. Lee, "So, how much do we owe you?" "Free trial. When you decide if you want to make any permanent changes, you come back here and return the bracelets, okay?" "How do you know someone won't just run off with the bracelets and never come back?" "You asked if you could trust me. Now I am trusting you. It is a matter of honor." Reese smiled. He liked people who stood by their promises. The towering stud at the center of the room reached across the counter and gave Mr. Lee a firm handshake. "This is a miracle, Mr. Lee. Thank you so much." Mr. Lee nodded humbly. "Don't mention it." Reese shot back with a grin, "Don't you mention it either, Mr. Lee." Billy started walking toward the front door when both Mr. Lee and Reese shouted simultaneously, "Stop!" Billy looked puzzled until Reese gestured toward Billy's body. "If the goal here is not to be noticed, going outside like that is a bad way to start." Billy was so comfortable in his new skin, he had completely forgotten that he was totally naked. * * * In the back room of Mr. Lee's shop, Billy grabbed some clothes that fit his new body, but the selection of hand-me-downs from Mr. Lee's previous clients was less than spectacular. He chose an apparently authentic Lakers jersey bearing the name "RODMAN", camouflage khakis and a pair of size-14 work boots just so he could get out the door, but once they got into the van, Billy told Reese the name of a trendy clothing store he wanted to visit. Their driver took them to the store and Billy waited for Reese to open the SUV's door for him. Out of habit, Reese stepped out and slid the door open. Billy peeked out cautiously, then out of habit, rushed toward the store to avoid being mobbed. Reese laughed and yelled, "Hey, slow down, big guy!" Billy stopped on the sidewalk and turned back to Reese, who whispered loudly enough to be heard over the traffic, "Nobody recognizes you." Billy took a moment to let this sink in. After living his life for years with the knowledge that fans or paparazzi could pop up at any moment, he hadn't truly realized how liberating it would feel to be ignored. Reese motioned for the SUV driver to find a place to park, then strode over to the sidewalk, planning to enter the store with Billy, who always delegated the actual dirty work of spending money to Reese, Wiseman or someone else in his entourage. Noticing Reese side-by-side and shoulder-to-shoulder with him, Billy stopped. "Let me go in by myself, okay?" Reese nodded. Giving Billy a break from the routine was the whole point of this experiment. He didn't need Reese tagging along to look after him. "You're gonna need some money." Reese pulled out his wallet and gave Billy a couple thousand bucks. "Can I have more?" Reese figured $2,000 should be enough to buy some new clothes, but then the stores Billy Farrow shopped in were a bit pricier than the ones that clothed Reese Boudreaux. He removed the rest of the cash from his wallet and handed it to Billy, with the instructions, "Call me on your cell phone if you need anything." "Okay, Dad." Billy winked his left eye at Reese and shot him two upraised middle fingers. The whole world seemed different to Billy now, like he was suddenly looking at it in 3D. He then realized that after years of having that damn Farrow Flop blocking his right eye, he actually HADN'T been seeing the world in 3D since he was thirteen. That alone made this transformation, however temporary, worthwhile. Reese stood on the sidewalk, feeling like he was watching Billy take his first steps as a man. It warmed his heart almost as much as when he had seen his own daughters take their first steps many years ago. They were now twelve and nine, firmly in the Billy Farrow demographic, so Reese was like a god to them. Well, actually, Billy was like a god to them, but their dad got to work for god, and that earned him major brownie points. It almost made up for the ribbing he took from his former colleagues when he took the gig "babysitting" Billy. Reese used to be a cop with the San Francisco Police Department, but he had to resign when the nagging knee injury he got playing college football began to cause him major grief and hamper his effectiveness on the force. Fortunately, the position on the Billy Farrow security detail came along. At first, he took the gig because it seemed cushy and the pay was good enough to cover his child-support and, until his ex remarried, alimony payments. But as the years progressed, he had truly come to like Billy and tolerate his music. Frankly, given the circumstances, it was a miracle that Billy hadn't turned into an industrial-strength douche. Reese tried to imagine what it would be like to have been famous since the age of twelve, to constantly be fawned over, to have every whim catered to, to never hear the word "no". Even Reese and the rest of the security team were guilty of coddling him, taking it easy when Billy would challenge them to play basketball. They let him believe he was kicking their asses when they actually could have creamed him if they weren't worried that he could have them all fired. Not that Billy would do that. Despite the code name of "King Joffrey" that security had given him, Billy was generous and friendly to everyone he worked with. So when Reese heard rumors from his old buddies on the police force that there was a mysterious shop near Chinatown that performed miraculous transformations, Reese was the one who pitched Alan Wiseman on giving Billy a day of anonymity as his reward for years of hard work, dedication and toeing the line. Reese paced on the sidewalk outside the clothing store for close to an hour. He knew how particular Billy was with his clothing, so he must be having a great time playing dress-up with a brand new body. Even so, Billy had never needed to fend for himself in the real world, having been under the wing of Wiseman for almost a third of his life. Perhaps Billy could use Reese's assistance but was too proud to ask for it. Reese wandered in, pretending to look at the clothes, even though one shirt from this store would probably cost a month of Reese's pay. A salesman swooped over to ask Reese if he needed any help. Not spotting Billy anywhere in the store, he asked, "I'm looking for a friend. Little white guy. Well, actually, he's about my height...now." The salesman's eyes lit up. He most certainly did remember that gentleman. "Yes, I think he took several outfits to the back to try on." Reese smiled appreciatively and made his way to the dressing rooms. Reese startled a sad-eyed middle-aged man who was trying on a leather thong, but most of the other dressing rooms were empty. The final one had a locked door. Reese knocked and whispered Billy's name, but got no answer, so he knelt down, wincing as he put pressure on his bum knee. Stared through the gap below the door, he couldn't see any legs, but he did see the clothes Billy had worn from Mr. Lee's shop strewn about the floor. Reese asked if the salesman could unlock that dressing room for him. "Official business," said Reese with enough authority that the salesman was too afraid to ask what kind of official Reese was. The salesman fumbled for the right key. Finally, the door swung open and the dressing room was empty. On a chair, Reese found Billy's wallet with an I.D. and credit cards, a stack of cash (with a note to the store attached that said "Thanks for the outfit"), and Billy's cell phone. On the screen of the phone was an unsent text message: "Hey Reese, Smell ya later, BF." Reese asked the salesman, "You got a back door?" The salesman pointed and Reese ran outside, limping on his aching knee. Billy was nowhere in sight. * * * "He escaped?" Alan Wiseman was apoplectic even in the best of times. Right now, you could take his pulse simply by looking at the veins trying to leap out of his sunburnt forehead. Alan was completely bald, just like Reese, although in Reese's case it was a style choice, not a genetic inevitability. Reese hobbled along the sidewalk, furious at himself but more furious at Billy. He had to hold the phone several inches away from his head to prevent Wiseman's screaming on the other end from bursting his eardrums. Across town, Wiseman paced in a frenzy around his hotel room. "I knew this crazy idea of yours was a risk, but I thought you were gonna keep tabs on him." "I was just trying to give the kid some space. How can he relax if he's got a bodyguard breathing down his neck the whole time?" Wiseman countered, "Well, how can I relax knowing that the kid whose career I fucking built, who pays all of our fucking salaries, and who has a concert tomorrow fucking night is wandering around this city in some unrecognizable fucking body?" "I thought I had taken appropriate measures," Reese explained. "I put a GPS tracker on his cell phone, but he left the phone behind in the dressing room at the clothing store. Plus I had another GPS tracker sewn into his underwear." "He left that in the dressing room too?" "Uh...no, sir. The underwear actually...burst into pieces." "How does underwear burst into fucking pieces?" "Sir, that happened when, uh...when his cock...roughly tripled in size." Wiseman beat his head against the window, looking down at the city. "Fuckin' San Francisco. Okay, get back here to the hotel. You and I are going to scour his room for clues as to where he might have gone. But as far as anyone else knows, everything is normal. Billy is just down with a twenty-four hour bug and is staying in bed all day." "Yes, sir. I'm on my way," said Reese, hanging up his phone. The SUV pulled over to pick him up. Reese ordered the driver to take him back to the hotel. "We gonna pick up Billy?" Reese turned to the driver excitedly. "You know where Billy is?" The driver looked puzzled. "I thought we left him back at that shop in Chinatown." Reese sagged, then tried to cover. "Ah, right. No, he took a taxi back to the hotel already. He wasn't feeling himself today." "Aw, poor kid," said the driver. "What about that guy we dropped off here?" "Wha...? Oh. No, he's gone too." "That's too bad," the driver said, pulling into traffic. "He was fuckin' hot." When he arrived at the hotel, Reese went straight to Billy's room. He tapped lightly on the door and Wiseman let him in. "Find anything?", he asked Wiseman. Wiseman yelled, "I don't even know what I'm fucking looking for." Reese shushed him. "Stop panicking. Everything will be fine. At least until a mysterious body is found floating in the bay." Wiseman was in no mood for jokes. "Don't even kid about that." At five-six and two-fifty, Wiseman was a heart attack waiting to happen, so Reese should have known not to raise his ire further. But sometimes it was a fun game to poke Wiseman with a stick just to see how outraged he could become. Reese risked getting down on his bad knee again to look under Billy's bed. There, he found a baggie containing a small amount of pot and some ecstasy, which Reese was frankly surprised Billy hadn't taken with him. Even further under the bed was a laptop. That was strange, thought Reese, since Billy already had a laptop lying above the sheets of his unmade bed. This second laptop was just within reach of Reese's fingertips. He snagged a corner and dragged it out, then carried it over to a desk where he booted it up and began to search through the files. Wiseman hovered over his shoulder and asked, "Finding anything?" Reese wasn't a computer whiz, but he did have some training from his days on the force. "Most of the files look encrypted to me. We'd have to bring in someone who knows what they're doing to crack those, and I'm not sure you want to bring in any outsiders on this. Looks like there are some video files in this folder. Let me click on one." Suddenly the screen was filled with amateur-shot footage of two men in a bed. The larger, beefier man was wearing leather and pounding the bejesus out of the ass of a younger, slimmer man. Wiseman cringed and looked away, until he had a thought that made his temples throb. "Please tell me that kid's not Billy." Reese squinted at the grainy footage. The young man being rammed sure didn't look like Billy, although he definitely qualified as a pretty young thing. Reese clicked on another file, which was a different video with the same basic subject matter and lack of plot. The younger man in that footage also did not look familiar. Just to be sure, he checked a few more of the files. "Doesn't seem to be Billy in any of these. But I guess we know what Billy's been watching all those nights when we thought he was playing 'Grand Theft Auto'." * * * Billy felt a little guilty about running away from Reese like that, since Reese was such a stand-up guy. But as soon as he heard the crazy idea of giving him some free time in another body, Billy had been making plans for what he would do in the unlikely case that this bizarre transformation actually worked. Once he turned 18, Billy had been using his secret second laptop to set up bank accounts under other names around the world, accounts that only he had access to and which Wiseman knew nothing about. He slipped some of the debit cards from those accounts into his wallet this morning, then took them with him when he escaped from the clothing store. Those, combined with the cash he'd gotten off Reese, ought to get him through the evening's adventures. Now he was sitting in a sidewalk cafe, running up a tab on a card bearing the name "Liam Fortune", and truly relaxing for the first time in months...maybe years. Just knowing that Wiseman had to be freaking out somewhere and that, for once, Billy didn't need to hear it, was almost a vacation in itself. He was determined to take advantage of the amazing opportunity he had been given. He leaned back with his feet propped on another chair, wriggling his toes in the flip-flops he'd picked up at the clothing store, luxuriating in the feeling of stretching his long and powerful legs. The shiny, neon-colored outfits that Billy characteristically wore would have looked bizarre on the sturdy and studly Liam Fortune, not to mention too attention-getting, so he went casual. He wore a black silk vest with no shirt underneath, allowing him to display enticing hints of the newly acquired pelt of body hair on his newly acquired broad chest. Relaxed black jeans covered his legs and his massive junk, which was riding commando down his right pantleg. Billy had never cared for the taste of beer before, but right now it tasted like freedom. And it really showed off the rock-hard peak of his biceps whenever he tilted back the bottle for another swig. He had been checking out the redhead two tables over for the past ten minutes, and felt no need to be subtle about it. For years, he'd never managed more than subtle glances and coy smiles that led nowhere, as his whole career might be in jeopardy with even the slightest hint to his mobs of tweenage admirers that not only did they not have a chance with their dream boy, but that no one with their type of genitals did. Finally, the redhead rose from his table and headed directly toward Billy's table. Billy's heart raced and he thought about standing up and asking the boy if he was interested in hooking up, but he felt like Liam was more the type to kick back and let the ginger beg for the opportunity -- hell, the honor -- of betting fucked. Billy/Liam took a healthy mouthful of beer just as the redheaded boy walked past. Under his breath, he blurted out, "I did see you looking at me, and I'm very flattered, but I'm afraid you're too old for me." Liam burst into a laugh, spewing his beer explosively across his chest. He sat up, dabbing away the beer and foam from his chest hair and his vest with a napkin. The redhead was easily five years older than Billy in reality, but "Liam" must look to him like an ancient man...of 27 or 28. Billy was starting to make a distinction between his brain, which still felt like Billy, and his new body, which seemed more like a Liam, although even that dividing line was becoming less clear the more he drank. Liam was definitely the one craving more beer, so he signaled the waitress to bring another as his eyes began to roam again. A seriously cute bike messenger in a white tank and royal blue bicycle shorts was waiting for the light to change and scoping out Liam's body approvingly. Liam's cock began to stiffen in his pants as he studied the curve of the bicyclist's ass. He pointed both index fingers at the messenger and gave him his standard wink. The biker snorted a chuckle at the corny move and weaved back into traffic. Billy was puzzled. He was so used to everyone who he encountered being awestruck just to be in his presence. Even with all the obvious merits of this designer body, it seemed like Billy would have to work harder to get Liam laid. At the moment, though, Liam was starting to get hungry. Although he had passed through San Francisco on tour several times, Billy had always been driven wherever he needed to go and usually got his meals from room service or backstage at the concert. He paid for his beers and set out on foot to explore the city and search for a restaurant. He quickly discovered that flip-flops weren't the wisest choice for tromping up and down the city's hills, so he handed them to a homeless man and entered the Nike Town store barefoot. One of the staff stopped him at the door. "You can't come in here without shoes, sir." Billy chuckled at being called "sir", then told the employee that he was here to buy shoes. "The fact that I don't have shoes is exactly why I need to buy shoes." Billy was accustomed to dressing however he wanted, wherever he wanted. The last time he had shopped here, they had opened the store for him after hours by special request and he came in wearing nothing but sweat pants. When the employee stood firm and threatened to call her manager, Billy went outside and asked the homeless man if he could have his flip-flops back. The man clutched them in his arms and refused to hand them over, so Billy offered to buy them. Reaching into his pocket, he discovered that he had nothing but hundred-dollar bills. It was unlikely that the homeless guy would have any change, so he gave him a Benjamin for the flip-flops, then returned to Nike Town and bought a pair of Air Jordans...and a second pair that he gave to the homeless guy on his way out. Billy usually demanded nothing more than the junkiest of junk food, but Liam seemed to be craving a thick, rare steak. He spotted an upscale steak house and headed inside, only to be halted at the door again. The place had a dress code, and a silk vest, jeans and basketball shoes was not one of the approved ensembles. Instead of arguing, Billy decided to stick with what he knew and found the nearest McDonald's, where he wolfed down three Big Macs, two large fries and two large shakes before Liam was sated. The tables near him were occupied by young girls who probably had Billy Farrow posters on their bedroom walls, but they didn't waste a second glance on Liam. Give them a few years and they would appreciate the assets Liam had on display, but for now they were only obsessed with things that were cute. Their nonstop jabber about cute boys and cute clothes and cute backpacks while they shot cute selfies was giving Billy acute nausea. He was tempted to ask the girls what they thought of Billy Farrow, but didn't want to seem like some kind of perv. Little did they know how safe they were from his advances. Billy returned to the street, slapping his tight abs with satisfaction after his meal. He knew what his next destination would be, but had no clue how to get there. He asked a passing police officer how to get to the Castro. The friendly cop offered detailed directions, and even suggested a couple of clubs he might check out. Billy could have hailed a cab if he had known how to do it. Instead, he followed the stranger's directions and ran there. His old body had great stamina for cardio, which undoubtedly kept him so skinny and helped him through a heavily choreographed ninety-minute concert several nights a week. But Liam's powerful muscles gave him a true runner's high as he pounded the pavement in a three-mile sprint to the neighborhood where he hoped to pick up the pace of this evening's events. Pumped and musky from the run, yet amazingly not short of breath, Billy unbuttoned his vest and walked into the first gay bar he found. His stomach churned with excitement and half-digested Mickey D's at the thrill of entering forbidden territory for the first time, but unlike at the stores he visited, no one here stopped Liam from entering because of the way he was dressed. For the first time since the changes, he started to feel the familiar sensation of attracting the immediate attention of strangers just by walking into a room. They may not have known who he really was, but the clientele of this establishment were definitely fans of the man who he was tonight. Billy was so used to strangers approaching him that he discovered he was surprisingly inept in the art of initiating a conversation. Also, he knew the type of guy who turned him on, and none of the other drinkers here seemed to fit that template. The closest match was the bartender, a clean-cut athletic type with no shirt and Greek Letters tattooed on his left pec. After a shot of Jagermeister (possibly a mistake, Billy thought) and another beer, Liam's tongue became looser. He pointed to the bartender's chest. "So, are you from Greece?" The jock laughed and said they were the letters of his frat. Billy hit his forehead with his fist, annoyed with his stupidity. He informed the bartender that he had played Greece recently. "You played Greece? Like, in what, soccer?" Billy realized that Liam needed to be less accurate in his descriptions. Unlikely as it might be in this body, he didn't want to tip anyone off to the fact that they were really talking to Billy Farrow. "I mean I traveled there. I traveled all over Europe." "Cool. Were you studying abroad?" "If I wanted to study a broad, would I be in a bar like this?" The bartender groaned. "Walked right into that one, didn't I?" Liam's lips curled into a seductive grin as he continued to survey the bartender's well-toned body. After a bit more chit-chat, he gestured for the bartender to lean in closer, lowered his voice and asked, trying to be clever, "When do you get off? Work, I mean." The bartender had dealt with this situation countless times and knew just how to dash a customer's hopes gently. First, he assured Liam that he took it as a compliment, and he understood that he was probably sending mixed messages by standing shirtless in a gay bar, but he was in fact straight with a great fiancee. "But I can't imagine a guy like you has any trouble finding new friends in your travels." "More trouble than you'd think." That was definitely Billy talking, as he drained his beer. This adventure was going south fast. "Well, don't make any sudden moves, but if you like the way I look, there's a guy who came in about five minutes ago who's been doing nothing but staring at you since he walked in. Look casually at eight o'clock." Billy was getting drunker and his thoughts sillier. "Eight o'clock? Can't I look sooner?" The bartender groaned and told Liam to check over his left shoulder. Liam swiveled his stool to the left and tried not to be too obvious, but it was clear who the bartender meant. Sitting alone on a stool at a tall table was an adorable guy with lightly tanned skin, wearing a white muscle shirt, jean shorts and cowboy boots. His shaggy brown hair with highlights hung in bangs across his forehead. Looking extremely bored, he hopped down from his stool and crossed the room to the jukebox, allowing Liam to admire the grace with which his lithe body moved. Like a gymnast. Or one of the many sexy backup dancers who Billy never risked getting to know better. Or one of the taut-muscled bottoms in the dom/sub videos he secretly liked to watch at night on his private laptop. Liam was still hesitating, so the bartender handed him another shot of Jager. "This one's on me. To apologize if I led you on." Liam slammed the shot, placed the glass upside down on the bar, and summoned the courage to walk over to the jukebox. He liked the way this boy's firm tight ass filled out those shorts and the shape of his legs approached perfection. One of his cowboy boots was crossed behind the other, calling attention to his sculpted calves as he leaned on the jukebox and pondered his selections. Liam moved closer and pretended to look at the song titles as well, but he was furtively checking out the young man, who was having trouble concealing a smirk. "See anything you like?" Liam answered with a drawn-out "mmm-hmmm" which left no doubt that he wasn't thinking about what songs were on the jukebox. The kid (who technically had to be older than the real Billy just to get in the door here legally) pressed a couple of buttons and waited for his selection to play. Billy expected to hear something by Lady Gaga or Kesha or, based on the young man's footwear, some country song, but the jukebox began to blast Ray Charles's "Unchain My Heart". The agile young man stepped away from the jukebox and began to gyrate to the upbeat music. Billy watched him admiringly. The guy was clearly not a professional dancer, but he had good intuitive moves. The young dancer cast his pale blue eyes on Liam's violet eyes. "You gonna join me, or are you just gonna watch, big man?" Liam was definitely getting bigger the longer he watched. He scooted across the floor in his basketball shoes. All the drinks he'd been consuming had added sloppiness to his dance moves, but his new dance partner nodded approvingly. He shouted over the music, "What's your name?" The name "Billy" was just about to cross his lips when something made him realize the mistake he was about to make. Instead, he said "Liam". When the word came out, it just felt right. This was going to be Liam's night. Billy was just along for the ride. "Hey, Liam. I'm Todd. My friends call me Todd the Rod. Or Todd the Wad. Or Todd the Bod. Or Todd the Odd." "And which do you prefer?" "Todd the God," he smirked. "I agree," Liam shouted over the music. They danced without further conversation. Liam enjoyed being so close to Todd and was ogling him without shame or hesitation. Todd's shirt clung tight to his skin, so Liam could make out his general contours, but he was sure he'd appreciate the additional details that would be visible once the shirt came off. The song faded out and Todd eyed Liam. "What next?" Liam's mind was swimming with possibilities, which Todd dashed with a grin. "What SONG do you want to hear next?" Todd waggled his hips exaggeratedly as he crossed back to the jukebox. Liam followed like he was on a leash. Wait, wasn't he supposed to be the one in control tonight? He leaned his hands on the jukebox, surveying his options. "Holy shit!", he thought as he noticed that "Forever Girl", one of his own hits, was on the jukebox. He selected it and, as the opening notes kicked in, launched into a sloppy version of the introductory dance step he performed to open the song during every concert. Todd watched Liam's moves and shook his head. "What, you don't like my choreography?" Todd shrugged. "Guess I'm not a huge Billy Farrow fan." Liam stopped in his tracks and became a little agitated. "Why? What's the matter with him?" Todd leaned back against the jukebox, surprised by Liam's intensity. "Chill out. What, are you the president of his fan club or something?" Liam realized he needed to take down his attitude a notch, and not take it so personally. "I just think he's really talented. For a kid." "He's definitely cute, if that's what you're into. And he can sing, no question. But that hair of his is a joke. And his songs..." Todd stopped before he got too wrapped up in his tirade. "No, tell me, what about his songs?", asked Liam in more measured tones, his curiosity growing. "They're just so antiseptic. It's all a bunch of generic bubble-gum nonsense. Ray Charles, you could hear in his voice that the man had lived. You get the feeling Billy Farrow's never had a real emotion in his life." Liam leapt vehemently to Billy Farrow's defense. "He's got emotions..." Whoa, a little strong there, buddy. Back off. "...I'm sure." That's better. "Maybe he's just so isolated from the real world that he's not as experienced as he'd like to be. But look at all he's accomplished. He sold twenty million albums before he turned eighteen. What had Ray Charles done by that age?" "Went blind, for one," Todd said calmly. Liam had to laugh, realizing that he may have gotten too worked up over the subject, and that Billy Farrow, talented as he was, was no Ray Charles. Certainly not yet. "You got me." "Is that a promise?" Todd moved closer to Liam with a grin on his face, hips swaying to the beat of the song. Maybe he was more into this Billy Farrow song than he was letting on. He took Liam's hands and guided them toward Todd's hips. Liam had a four-inch height advantage on Todd, but they didn't seem like an odd pair. Todd pointed to the nine bracelets around Liam's left forearm. "Those are nice." "Thanks, I just got them today. Actually, I got all of this today," he said with a gesture that he meant for Todd to understand as "this entire wardrobe", although lurking in the back of his brain, Billy secretly meant "this entire body". As Billy Farrow's recorded voice faded out, Liam strode over to the jukebox to make another selection, but Todd took his hand. "If you really feel like dancing, there are better places than this dump. Come on." Even after admiring the definition of Todd's compact muscles, he was surprised how strong the shorter man was. He nearly dislocated Liam's arm yanking him toward the door. Soon Todd had led him to a building up the street which looked unimpressive from the outside. The youthful-looking Todd was asked for an I.D., but Todd whispered something to the bouncer, who nodded and let him pass. Liam was just waved through, as if his age was obvious. The vast space inside the building was filled with fog and spotlights and thumping noise and men and sweat. Billy had performed in plenty of venues this size early in his career, but the dominant noise was high-pitched screaming and the crowds were much younger and monolithically female. Billy might have been overwhelmed (and swamped by admirers) if he had wandered in here, but Liam seemed prepared to handle it. Todd had worked his way to the bar and brought back two beers. He handed one to Liam and proposed a toast. "To new and interesting experiences." They clinked bottles and drank. "Follow me," said Todd, dragging Liam behind him as he maneuvered across the tightly packed dance floor to the DJ booth. Todd climbed up and had a shouted conversation with the DJ that Liam couldn't make out over the pounding music. The DJ shook his head at Todd's request, and Todd returned to Liam dissappointed. "What's the matter?," Liam asked. "I wanted to surprise you and get up on one of the dance poles, but he said they're for the professional dancers only. Insurance reasons or something." Liam would certainly be interested in seeing what contortions Todd's limber body could do on a stripper pole. He decided to test his dominance by walking over to the DJ and making his own argument...in the form of cash. Liam returned to Todd victoriously. "Apparently, for a thousand dollars, insurance reasons can go fuck themselves." The DJ gestured for Todd to come up onstage as the current song faded and made an announcement. "We've got a special treat for all you sexy, sexy boys tonight. Stepping up to shake his gorgeous ass on the silver pole, we have..." Off-mic, he asked the dancer for his name again. The DJ misheard and announced, "Todd the Cod!" Todd smirked at Liam and shrugged a "Whatchagonnadoaboutit?" He peeled his sweaty shirt off his torso, to the approving roar of the crowd -- the deep bellow from Liam being the loudest and most enthusiastic of all. Todd tauntingly unbuttoned his shorts, but left them on, as well as his cowboy boots. He took hold of the pole and waited for the music to begin. The music sounded extremely familiar to Liam, yet he couldn't immediately place it. The hook kicked in and he realized it was a remix he'd never heard before of "I'm Your Boy", the first single by a very young and very high-pitched Billy Farrow. The DJ got a few catcalls, but most of the crowd was delighted or at least amused for nostalgic reasons. Liam couldn't help but wonder how many of the men in this room had first realized they were gay when they saw pretty little Billy Farrow on "America Wants S'more". Todd leapt in the air and suspended himself with one knee wrapped tightly around the pole as his arms swung free. Damn that skinny boy could move. The crowd was enjoying his performance tremendously, and Liam (actually, in this case, more Billy than Liam) felt left out. That was HIS song being played. Much as he was enjoying watching Todd gyrate, he craved some attention too. He stepped over to the DJ and asked to borrow his mic. Liam's cash supply was getting perilously low, but another hundred persuaded the DJ to surrender the mic. While everyone's eyes were still focused on Todd's acrobatics, Liam's deep sexy croon came over the speakers in a perfectly harmonized duet with squeaky little Billy Farrow. One of the spotlights found Liam in the darkness at the edge of the stage, where he started to move. Between the alcohol in his system and the bulkiness of his new body, Liam's moves weren't nearly as slick as Billy Farrow's would be, but he was still an impressive hoofer. As the crowd egged him on, Liam pulled his vest slowly off one shoulder, then off the other and flung it into the crowd. He reached the chorus and bellowed "I'm Your Boy" directly at Todd, who was currently suspended upside down on the pole, his face at Liam's eye level. Liam walked over and kissed Todd's upside-down lips, and the crowd went berserk. Billy Farrow's anthem of puppy love suddenly took on a whole new meaning, especially for Billy Farrow himself. When the song ended, the crowd cheered boisterously. Liam carried Todd offstage in his strong arms, stopping at the booth to ask the DJ where he'd gotten that version of the song. The DJ said it was his own remix, and Liam complimented him on how great it sounded. Liam stepped down from the stage, remarking on how light Todd felt in his arms. Todd giggled and seemed to be contemplating the wisdom of his next move before committing to giving Liam another kiss. Their tongues connected between their parted lips and the kiss continued far longer than either of them had expected. When they finally separated, Todd asked, "What do you want to do next?" Liam knew what he REALLY wanted to do next, but he was having such a good time, he hated to leave the club so soon. The two stuck around for another hour, dancing in the middle of the crowd as one man after another made their way over to praise both Liam and Todd for their performances. Todd's face seemed to be blushing permanently, while Liam's heart was warmed by the praise. Billy Farrow had never gotten good reviews from critics, and he had reached the point where he never knew if he could trust the opinions of his fans or his entourage, because everyone seemed to have a reason to suck up to him. Even factoring in that a few of these people could be bullshitting in hopes of getting into Liam's pants, most of these compliments seemed entirely genuine. Eventually, Liam and Todd left the club, both bare from the waist up. Liam wrapped his meaty arms around his smaller companion to keep him warm. "What now?", Todd asked. Liam's booze-soaked brain came up with what seemed like a great idea. "Let's steal a cable car!" "Calm down there, big guy. Why don't we go to Coit Tower and look at the city lights?" "Mmm, that sounds romantic. How do we get there?" "If you don't mind riding behind me, we could take my motorcycle." "Holy shit, you got a motorcycle?" Billy's youthful excitement had momentarily overwhelmed Liam's reserve. Wiseman had absolutely refused to let Billy get a motorcycle for fear of that Billy might get in an accident, doing irreparable harm to his career...and to Wiseman's bank account, Billy always added mentally. Rounding a corner near the bar where they met, Liam saw a late model Harley-Davidson parked on the street and resisted the temptation to drool. "I've only got the one helmet," said Todd. "So, if you ride with me, we'd technically be breaking the law. I don't know if we should risk it." Liam gave his answer by straddling the bike's seat. "Get on, babe. I'll handle any cops." Amused, Todd wriggled his way onto the seat in front of Liam, his compact butt fitting snugly between Liam's spread legs. Todd tightened the strap on his helmet and roared the engine. Todd could feel Liam's giant cock pressing hard against his right ass cheek. He steered the bike into traffic and set them on a course for Coit Tower. Halfway there, he leaned back and shouted, "You steer. I'll tell you where to turn." Liam removed his arms from around Todd's waist and placed his hands upon the handlebars. Despite all his fame and all the celebrities he had met, Billy Farrow had never felt as full of life as he did right now. They reached the top of Telegraph Hill and sat together on the grass in Pioneer Park. After thirty seconds of marveling at the panoramic view, Liam rolled Todd back on the grass and they began to make out. Liam's erection seemed to have been in a constant state of getting harder and bigger since the first moment he met Todd, and he knew he needed release soon. As he began to kiss Todd, he became short of breath and light-headed as his backlog of cum urgently pumped its way into his pants. Liam slid his bare chest across Todd's as he rocked back and forth in coordination with his ejaculations. When the surging finally stopped after emptying what seemed like a liter of jizz, Liam collapsed like dead weight atop Todd. Todd was more amused than upset. Having flashbacks to the movie "Weekend at Bernie's", Todd managed to lug Liam to the motorcycle and prop him up on the seat. With Liam's furry chest pressed onto Todd's bare back, the motorcycle slowly wound through the city streets. Todd found a cheap hotel and got a room, dragging Liam to bed and undressing him before collapsing with fatigue himself. * * * Billy woke up to the faint sound of something vibrating. At first, the noise seemed to be inside his head, which felt like it had been stuffed with cotton during the night. As he cracked open his eyelids and saw the naked hairy body stretched out on the bed before him, the events of the previous night began to filter into his head. A smile crept across his lips as he looked at the jumbo cock laying heavily atop his granite abs. He could get used to the sight of "Liam's" body first thing every morning. But how had he gotten here? And where was that cute guy from last night? The buzzing sound hadn't stopped, and Billy realized it must be his second phone vibrating in the jeans that were folded neatly on a chair. He wasn't as hungover as he might have expected given everything he drank last night, but it was still a struggle for him to slide off the bed and extract the phone from his pants pocket. He looked at the screen, which indicated that the caller was blocked. But who could even have this number? No one knew this phone existed. Billy thought of ignoring the call, but his curiosity was too strong. He answered it. "Yeah?" Oh, that's right, he remembered upon hearing his husky new voice again. "Good morning. Is this the fugitive?" It was Reese. "How did you get this phone number?", Billy asked, peeking through the drapes to see if anyone was spying on him from outside. "I have connections. Don't forget, I used to be a cop here. So, you had your fun. Are you ready to come back to reality?" Billy stared admiringly at the reflection of his body in a mirror on the wall, rubbing the heavy stubble on his cheeks, then letting his hand slide down his hairy torso and finally onto his cock. "You know what? Tell Wiseman I'm not sure I'm coming back. Ever." Reese sighed. "Then we're gonna have a situation. If you don't come back soon, people are gonna start to wonder what happened to Billy Farrow." "Tell the world that Billy died. In a fiery motorcyle wreck. He could only be IDed by his hairdo." Billy brushed his hand across his bristly buzz cut, loving that he could climb out of bed and not need to spend 45 minutes gelling "the Flop" into shape. "I've got money stashed away. I've got enough money for a normal person to live on the rest of his life." "You're kidding yourself, Billy. In a week, you'll be begging to get your old life back. You knew going in that this was a one-night deal, only you didn't hold up your end. You know how much Wiseman reamed me out for letting you escape?" "I never meant to get you in trouble, Reese. You've always been super-nice to me. But I can't give up this body. I'm enjoying it too much" "You have a concert to perform in twelve hours. You have obligations. Trust me, we will find you, the same way I found this phone number." Billy realized that Reese was probably right. Wiseman was not going to let Billy simply walk away from his lucrative career. Billy suddenly had a brainstorm. "I know, tell Wiseman he can manage the new me. I've still got my voice, only it's a lot sexier now. And every once in a while, I can take off the bracelet that lowered my voice and record a 'lost' Billy Farrow album that Wiseman can release posthumously!" There were several seconds of silence from Reese's end. "Get serious, Billy. Tell me where I can find you and we'll go back to Mr. Lee's store and put everything back in order." Billy thought it over. He simply was not ready to surrender his new freedom. "No deal, Reese." Billy hung up, opened a window and flung his phone into the street, where a car promptly ran over it, grinding it to bits. Billy felt liberated. He also desperately needed to take a leak. He stepped into the bathroom and sighed with almost orgasmic pleasure as he pissed. When he heard the door to the hotel room opening, his piss stopped flowing. Could that be Reese? He felt completely vulnerable, standing naked, so he grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around his waist. If he needed to, he would fight Reese for his freedom. Reese might be a tower of muscle, but Liam's body gave Billy at least a fighting chance. A lyrical tenor voice called out, "Liam? Are you here?" Billy peeked through the gap between the bathroom door and the jamb and saw his friend from last night's adventures, Todd, with two paper cups of coffee and a bag of croissants. He seemed to be alone. Billy exhaled with relief and walked out of the bathroom. "Boy, am I glad to see you. I thought you ditched me." "Nobody gets away from me that easily," said Todd, still wearing his shorts and boots from last night, with the addition of a touristy San Francisco t-shirt which Todd filled out nicely. "I had to buy a shirt in the gift shop. For some stupid reason, most places require you to be dressed when you enter." "So I've learned." Todd set down the breakfast items and stood on tiptoe to kiss Liam, who hung his arms over Todd's shoulders. Billy felt Liam taking command of the situation as Liam's towel tented in the front. "Listen, my memories are kinda sketchy from last night. Did we...?" Todd shook his head with a wistful grin. "You conked out before we could." "That's what I thought." Liam's powerful hands gripped the back collar of Todd's t-shirt and pulled hard in opposite directions, shredding the shirt and yanking it off his body. Todd looked shocked. "Don't worry, I'll buy you a new shirt. I'll buy you ten if you want. Now drop those shorts." Todd suddenly became shy and hesitant. "Do I have to rip those too?" Todd shook his head. Liam flung his towel to the floor and leapt onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard, hands clasped behind his head as his cock rose majestically to a right angle. He watched Todd unbutton his cut-offs and pull them down his sleek legs slowly. He stepped out of them, then pulled off his black thong in a similar manner. Todd's cock was fully hard, maxing out at five inches, but it looked proportional with his compact body. Todd jumped onto the bed and straddled Liam. "Aren't you gonna take off your cowboy boots?", Liam asked. Todd shook his head. "Never." Liam didn't mind. He sat up and pushed Todd's body backwards, then flipped him face down, ass up. He stroked his hardened cock and maneuvered it toward the depression between Todd's sweet ass cheeks. He pounded his way in, causing Todd to yelp loudly in an equal mix of pain and pleasure. Todd's hands gripped tightly onto the bed's footboard, his knuckles turning white. Liam felt incredible. The strength of this new body and the sensitivity of his new dick were overwhelming him. He leaned forward, pressing down on Todd's well-built shoulders for leverage as he worked to get as much of his mighty cock as possible into Todd's hole. The metal bracelets on his left arm slid and clanked against each other with each heavy thrust of his body. Todd's wails became higher pitched as both men drew closer to climax. Liam finally shot his wad inside Todd, while pulses of thick creamy cum flowed onto the bedsheets from Todd's cock. Liam lay his heavy body atop Todd, blissfully spent. After a couple of minutes, Liam rolled off and spread his arms, one palm resting cozily atop Todd's ass and giving a squeeze. Todd leaned over to kiss him and asked if he was satisfied. Liam nodded weakly. Todd smirked and said, "Well, I'm not. Sit up, I want to try something." With effort, Liam rose into a seated position. Todd directed him to turn around and lean against the headboard. Intrigued, Liam followed orders. Todd hopped off the bed, his boot heels clopping on the floor as he walked toward a bag that Liam hadn't noticed before. Todd must have gone shopping for more than breakfast while he was out. Todd bent down to look in the bag, flaunting his bubble butt in Liam's direction. He pulled out something which he kept hidden behind his back until he reached the bed. "Put your hands up by the railing," Todd instructed. Liam complied, and Todd revealed a pair of handcuffs which he promptly latched around Liam's right wrist. It was harder to find room on the left arm, with all those bracelets, but he finally managed. Liam was now securely fastened to the headboard and smiled in anticipation of Todd's next kinky surprise. Todd stared at the multi-colored bracelets on Liam's arm and said, "I think I'd like you better without the bracelets." Liam panicked. "No, don't touch them!" "Why not?" "They're just...I never take them off. Kinda like you and your boots." "Let me just take off one." Liam wriggled ferociously, but he was firmly shackled to the heavy wooden headboard. Todd unlocked the violet bracelet and placed it on the bedside table. Liam shuddered, then plead to Todd, "Please stop." He was startled to hear Billy's voice once again emerging from this body. "Wow, listen to that. You sound like a whole different person. Wonder what would happen if I removed the next one." Todd sprung the latch on the indigo bracelet, and Liam whimpered as he saw his cock shrink back to Billy's usual size, which was a little smaller than what Todd was packing. Liam was practically screeching now. "Who sent you here? Was it Reese?" Todd spoke calmly as he continued to remove Liam's bracelets one by one. "That wasn't a nice thing you did to Reese. You know, giving you this makeover was his idea in the first place. He sympathized with your predicament. He wasn't going to be a buzzkill. He had to tail you, but he planned to do it from a discreet distance. He wanted to give you your space to explore. But you had to run off on your own. You must have known that someone had to keep an eye on you, to make sure you didn't put yourself in too much danger. You're too valuable an asset not to have some protection. Reese even gave you one last chance to come back voluntarily this morning, but you refused." Liam's head was abuzz. How did Todd know about Reese's phone call? Liam felt his impressive muscles sagging and disappearing. His bones creaked as they contracted and his body hair retreated into its follicles. He was practically weeping as he watched the change. "So what happened? Wiseman hired you to tail me?" "Wiseman doesn't know about me," Todd smiled. "Reese used his connections with the police force to keep an eye out for a man with your description. Your new description. When they found you, they called Reese with the location. And then you met me." Todd looked down at the lovely young man on the bed, who had surrendered to his fate and was no longer squirming. "My god, you're Billy Farrow! Oh, wait, not quite. One bracelet left." Todd removed the green bracelet, and the dark buzz cut regrew into the Farrow Flop in its full glory. Liam -- no, wait, he was without question Billy now -- sagged his slight shoulders in defeat. "Just tell me who you are. Some male prostitute that Reese hired?" "Let's just say that all those videos on your computer gave Reese a pretty good idea of your 'type'. Since you'd changed yourself into a dominant type body, that must be who you fantasized being when you were watching those videos. So you were probably on the hunt for a submissive. Based on your preferred videos, that meant probably a slender guy with a pretty face who looked younger than his years. In other words, someone who looked a lot like Billy Farrow. You literally wanted to go fuck yourself." Todd kicked off his cowboy boots. Clasped around his left ankle were a number of colored bracelets, just like the ones that Billy had been wearing, although wider to accommodate the size of leg bones. Todd bent over and began unsnapping them. Immediately, his body grew inches taller, his muscles bulkier and his cock longer and thicker. Billy had never seen a cock so big, certainly not in person but not even on the internet. As Todd continued, his face grew more menacing, his hair receded fully into his head, his eyes turned deep brown and his skin darkened to a rich black. Finally, he removed a violet ring and his voice shifted from Todd's high tenor to the familiar low Ving-Rhames-y tones that Billy had just heard on the phone earlier this morning. "Surprise." "Fuck me," said Billy. "Can't now. You've got a show to get ready for," said Reese, all business as always. "While I was out getting breakfast -- and handcuffs -- I picked up some clothes for you. Some for me too. I can't guarantee they're fashionable, but they'll fit well enough that we won't have to leave the hotel naked." Billy hung from the headboard, limp and shellshocked, his pathetic arms still held loosely in the air by the handcuffs. He noticed there was still one metal band left on Reese's leg. "So that last bracelet, is that the one that made you act all gay?" "Who says I needed a bracelet to be gay?" Billy was floored by this revelation, then grinned. "Holy shit, Reese. I just fucked you in the ass." "No, man, you fucked me in the ass yesterday when you ran away. This morning was my reward for putting up with your shit. I don't think Wiseman needs to know about anything you and I did together. Do you?" Billy unleashed the radiant smile that adorned so many little girls' bedroom walls. "You and me? We didn't do a damn thing. But Liam and Todd had a blast." Reese's face betrayed the hint of a smile as he removed the cuffs from Billy's wrists and handed him his new clothes. * * * Reese stood across the counter from Mr. Lee, who was examining the bracelets that Reese had just returned. "One missing," said Mr. Lee. "Oh, yeah, I wanted to keep the one you gave me for my bad knee. It feels brand new. You can't imagine the things I was able to do with two good knees." "I try not to imagine," Mr. Lee said with the merest smirk. "What do I owe you for it?" Reese pulled out his wallet. Mr. Lee waved him off. "You kept your promise to bring back the bracelets. Consider this my thank-you for your honorable behavior." "Come on, man. You got no idea how much money I've paid doctors to fix this knee, and they never did jack. You fixed it with one little bracelet." "If you insist on paying me, I only barter for what I need for my transformations." Mr. Lee gestured to the glass jars full of unusual substances on the shelves behind him. "What do you have that you could spare? Some of your muscles, perhaps?" "No, man, I'm a bodyguard. I gotta stay strong." He thought, then thought of something. He spoke in a whisper, even though no one else was in the shop to hear him. "It's a little embarrassing, but I've gotten some complaints over the years that my dick is...too big. Maybe you could make it smaller." Mr. Lee's eyebrows rose slightly. "Smaller length or smaller circumference?" Reese cleared his throat and said, "Both? I know, I know, stereotypes and all that, but seriously, it's gotten in the way of me finding a good steady relationship. It's too much for most people to handle. Literally." Mr. Lee asked, "May I see?" Reese extracted his cock from his pants. Mr. Lee was usually an expert at hiding his thoughts and feelings from the customers, but his jaw dropped. He extended his hand and said, "It's a deal." Outside, the SUV was idling with Wiseman in the front passenger seat and Billy sprawled in a custom swivel chair at the back, with stereo speakers embedded in the headrest and videogame controls in each armrest. Billy was surfing the web and discovered that someone had posted a shaky video of Liam's "I'm Your Boy" performance from the night before. Billy looked wistful, watching Liam and Todd having so much fun. Billy passed his iPad to Wiseman and said, "I want to do this arrangement of 'I'm Your Boy' tonight." It was a bit harder-edged than anything in Billy's usual set, but Wiseman liked it and thought the fans would enjoy it too. Just as long as Billy's delivery wasn't as raunchy as this anonymous shirtless guy in the video. Wiseman agreed to find the DJ who had done the remix and make sure he was properly compensated. Billy sat in his comfy throne at the back of the SUV and told Wiseman, "I also think it's time for me to get rid of the Flop." Wiseman turned around, livid. "You can't. It's your signature." "It's a joke. I look absurd. What we'll do is I'll get my hair cut off and donate it to one of those cancer charities for the kids who lose their hair getting chemo. We'll give 'em a big check too. Lots of positive publicity!" Wiseman pondered the notion. Maybe it was time for the Flop to go. Despite running away yesterday, Billy was acting more mature today. Maybe his image should mature too. The side door slid open and Reese hopped into the SUV, showing more agility than he had since college. "Everything copacetic?", Wiseman asked. "Yup, we're all clear. I want to put the shopkeeper and his grand-daughters on the list for backstage passes at tonight's show. And, here, I got something for you." He passed a thin green bracelet to WIseman, who looked at it skeptically. "Uh, thanks, I guess. I'm not big into jewelry, ya know." "I know, but I wanted to get you a thank-you present for not firing me. I think you'll like it. Put it on your left wrist." Curious, Billy leaned forward, resting his chin on Reese's shoulder as Wiseman slapped the bracelet onto his forearm. He yowled from a strange jolt shooting through his body, then calmed down as a cooling rush spread through his body and localized in his head. Although Wiseman hadn't realized it yet, Liam's buzz cut had now taken root on Wiseman's previously naked scalp. Reese looked amused and Billy cackled, but they both thought it actually looked pretty good on him. Wiseman looked back at them with annoyance. "What's so funny?", Wiseman asked as he gestured for the driver to pull away from Mr. Lee's little store.
  22. X-Dream Makeover: Mike

    Mike had become very worried. It had been two weeks since his ex-co-worker David had made his presence known anywhere on social media. What made this so worrisome was that social media was the only place that David actually WAS social. Extremely shy and lacking in self-confidence in person, David would only dare to offer his opinions online, whether griping on Facebook about the casting of the latest comic-book movie or posting on gamer message boards the latest video-game cheat codes he had figured out. David had been one of the earliest employees of DigiWarp, the software company for which Mike worked, while Mike had only been hired a year ago, straight out of college. He admired David, who was a brilliant coder, while Mike considered himself adequate at best. Mike's brains were never going to stumble upon a game-changing breakthrough the way David had a few years back. The best Mike could hope was that he'd be on a development team with people far brighter than he was and reap some of the benefits of their success simply through proximity. Mike didn't know if he had the right to call David his friend, but he might be the closest David had to one. Given David's seniority and Mike's lack of it, there were few reasons for the two men to cross paths at work. But at a lavish party for all of the company's employees at the CEO's mansion overlooking San Francisco Bay, Mike and David found themselves isolated from the rest of the crowd, standing nervously beside each other in a tight corner of the room. Neither man said anything for the first ten minutes. Mike tilted his head to read the spines of the books the host owned, realizing that not only had he never read any of them, he had never heard of most of them. David fixed his attention on his shoes, which he must have tied and retied eight times in those ten minutes, and kept running his fingers down the crease in his chinos, in a futile attempt to make it stay at a perfect 90-degree angle to the floor. They first bonded over their shared allergy to seafood, which they announced simultaneously to the waitress carrying a tray of crab puffs. This led to a twenty-minute discussion of various foods that disagreed with them, a conversation which, if you boiled away the awkward silences, would have amounted to about three minutes of actual conversation. To look at him, you wouldn't think any food disagreed with Mike. Although he and David were both about five-foot-eleven, Mike was easily 200 pounds heavier. Every part of his body weighed too much. His eyelids looked like they could lose a few pounds. His wide head seemed to melt directly into a wider neck. His torso was nearly spherical, and was largely unchanged since childhood when his classmates had dubbed him "Frosty" due to his snowman-like contours. His legs were bulbous and knock-kneed. In an attempt to outwit the male-pattern baldness that ran in his family, he had been shaving his head since college. He comforted himself by thinking of all the celebrities who managed to maintain their sexiness or even become hotter when they went full-cueball; unfortunately, the only celebrity Mike resembled was the Michelin Man. He was also apparently the only invitee to this party who had not noticed the request to dress fashionably. Even if he could afford to buy fashionable clothes, he had no idea what would make his body look in any way fashionable, so here he stood, not eating crab puffs, in a polo with wide red and white stripes providing lines of longitude across his surface area, and cargos which ended about an inch above his black plastic sandals. Aside from their similar heights, David's body was a contrast to Mike's in nearly every way. David was worryingly gaunt, all straight lines and sharp angles. He had a Zuckerbergian head of unruly red curls, which he never thought to get cut until someone pointed out that they could no longer see his eyes. A Wicked-Witch nose dominated his pale sunken face, with an Adam's apple that echoed the nose's shape and prominence. David had no more natural fashion sense than Mike, but he did have a high enough salary that he could walk into an expensive store and ask what he should buy. The only thing he liked about the experience was going home and devising a color-coded program which would tell him, based on the personal shopper's advice, what items should be worn with what other items, which is how he arrived looking positively preppy in his navy-blue sweater vest, pale-blue Oxford shirt, chinos and deck shoes. In a rare oversight, he had neglected to include socks in the program, which explained the green argyles covering his ankles. David always had problems knowing what to do with his large bony hands, which tended to flutter on uncharted courses when he spoke, so he mostly kept his hands buried deeply in his pants pockets. Standing beside each other, rotund Mike looked like a big zero and spindly David looked like a big one. Depending on one's era, this juxtaposition might call to mind Laurel and Hardy, Mutt and Jeff, Mama Michelle and Mama Cass, or Steve Martin and John Candy as the mismatched travelers in "Planes, Trains and Automobiles". But to a roomful of Silicon Valley techies, whose entire lives revolved around manipulations of ones and zeroes, they suggested only one thing. "Hey look," shouted one of their inebriated colleagues, "it's the Binary Brothers!" The initial comment got a few chuckles, but the hilarity grew as more and more partygoers passed along the remark and created a wave of laughter and pointing through the crowd. Mike attempted to join in the laughter, under the flawed theory that they can't be laughing at you if you're laughing with them. David stood uneasily, then decided his shoes needed to be retied. From that point onward, David and Mike found themselves hanging out with each other from time to time, eating together in the company cafeteria, occasionally getting together after work to play video games. Perhaps it was only the gravitational field of Mike's greater body mass pulling anemic David into his orbit. Mainly it was that, even within the hive of worker geeks where they worked, David and Mike were still the last two likely to be picked for a hypothetical game of dodgeball. They were the nerds who even embarrassed the nerds. In the Binary Brothers, Mike might be the zero, but David felt like a zero too. Mike sensed they had another shared interest, although the two men never discussed it. Even at that first party, when David seemed to be averting his eyes completely from the other guests, Mike noticed that David's head would swivel ever so slightly but involuntarily whenever one of the handsome waiters walked past. Mike hoped that his own sampling of the beefcake was more subtle, and he made exaggerated efforts to more blatantly ogle the waitresses, avoiding taunts by maintaining a facade of heterosexuality. The sad fact was that none of the other guests were paying enough attention to David and Mike to give a shit who they were mentally undressing. The pickings were slimmer at the office, where few had gotten ahead on their looks, but Mike did notice David leaving his corner cubicle more frequently when a copier repairman or the UPS guy dropped by. And when the two played video games, Mike noticed how muscular David's avatars always were. Then again, it wasn't like Mike was exactly opting to look like Jonah Hill onscreen. When David took the company buyout and put an absurd number of zeroes in his bank account, he did invite Mike over to his new house once to play games on his sweet seventy-inch HDTV and back him up and down the driveway in his new solar car. But the evening was uncomfortable for both of them. For Mike, he felt inadequate in the presence of such pricey playthings and could sense David's general malaise, which Mike took to be boredom from having to hang around with his sad, fat and broke former colleague. In fact, David disliked the feeling that he was flaunting his obscene wealth which he felt he didn't deserve, despite being the primary brain behind the software that led to the buyout, and he felt disillusioned that all of this money had failed to make him any less dissatisfied with his life. When Mike left the house that night, he vowed not to bother David, not wishing to seem like a pathetic hanger-on. But after two weeks with no trace of David online, Mike was concerned. Maybe David had decided to go on a cross-country drive, or take a cruise, or do something else totally unlike him. Maybe David had met someone. Guys might find him more attractive now that he had such girth in his wallet. Mike wondered whether David was the type to resort to suicide, but considered that unlikely, as it would require physical effort of some sort. He had left voicemail messages and texted David, but never heard back. Finally, he decided he would just go to David's house after work and drop in unexpectedly, in hopes of discovering a simple, logical reason for David's silence. They'd both have a laugh and maybe even get a little drunk on the couch together and, who knows... Mike shook off this scenario for a multitude of reasons, not least of which was that neither of them was likely to make the first move. Besides, it was hard to envision a comfortable way for the Binary Brothers' bodies to mesh sexually. It's not easy to make a one and a zero add up to sixty-nine. Mike trudged up the driveway to David's house with a copy of the latest "Call of Duty" and a sixer of Mike's Hard Lemonade. Despite dismissing his earlier fleeting fantasy, he discovered he was actually nervous about the prospect of meeting David tonight. He had already sweated thoroughly through his black Astro Boy t-shirt and baggy purple shorts, and his calves were chafing from rubbing against each other on the walk here. He noticed that David's solar car was still in the driveway, which he took as a good sign, although fallen leaves and dust were coating it. Mike leaned a beefy arm against the front door and rang the doorbell, but heard no noises from inside. He knocked, first timidly, then more loudly, but still got no response. Too winded to walk back downhill right away, he took a seat on the stone steps and cracked open a bottle to refresh himself. The bottle was half-empty when Mike felt he was seeing a vision. A heavily-muscled shirtless dreamboat jogged from the sidewalk up the driveway. His artistically-carved abs were heaving with each breath and his taut hairless torso was covered in a layer of glistening sweat which reflected the setting sun. His dark hair was trimmed close on the sides and hung in limp, curly, sweat-beaded strands on the top. He was more thickly muscled than the stereotypical runner, with his meaty quads and glutes threatening to widen the slit that went up the side of his skimpy royal-blue running shorts. His tanned calves bulged, forming powerful masses above his matching blue Reeboks. The man was clearly at the end of a lengthy run, while Mike had worked himself into a similar state of exhaustion and perspiration by walking the one block from his bus stop to David's door. Mike gulped a swig from his bottle of alcoholic lemonade as he drank in the runner's body. Mike's hard, indeed. The new arrival wiped a heavy forearm across his brows to shake the sweat from his eyes. His eyelids parted, revealing pale green pupils that seemed somehow familiar to Mike. The man was startled to see someone seated on the steps. "Can I help you, dude?", came a resonant voice that also vaguely rang a bell. Embarrassed, Mike hoisted himself to his feet, grappling with the video game and his drinks. "Sorry, maybe I'm in the wrong place," he said, feeling he must have screwed up somehow, even though he knew this was David's house, and David's solar car was RIGHT THERE in the driveway. Maybe this stud was some rentboy that David had hired with his new wealth...and who could blame him? "I was trying to find David Tanner." As Mike brushed past the hunky jock, pausing just slightly to take a deep whiff of his masculine musk, the runner said, "I'm Dave Tanner." Mike stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly. He studied the man before him. It couldn't be. Sure, this guy did have the same color eyes as David. And the voice did sound a lot like David's, only slightly slower and with all the anxiety drained away. And if you dyed David's hair black and trimmed it nicely, it could look like this guy's. And if you put a team of plastic surgeons to work for a couple of years, and piled on the protein shakes and steroids...maybe. But he'd only seen David two weeks ago. This was clearly impossible. Maybe David had a studly cousin named Dave who he'd never mentioned. Not impossible, since Mike and David's conversations never veered near personal topics. "David and I used to work together. Are you maybe a relative of David's?", Mike asked. "Nope, I'm me," the other man said, followed by a throaty chortle. "You okay, buddy? Looks like you're gonna barf." "My head's spinning a little. I think I just need to sit down." The alluring young man studied Mike's face curiously. "I could swear I seen you somewhere before. You work out at Gold's?" Now it was Mike's turn to chortle. He lifted up his bottles of alcohol and said, "This is the only six-pack I'm working on." Looking with confusion at Mike, the man entwined his arms behind his tilted head, his stony biceps seeming to stretching his skin to its limit. Unconsciously, he was alternately flexing his left and right biceps to make them pop, and Mike's eyes were automatically drawn from arm to arm as they peaked. The guy shook his head. "Now it's totally buggin' me. I KNOW I know you from somewhere." He reached into his shorts and extracted a house key. He opened the door and gestured for Mike to follow him. "Come in and cool off before you stroke out." Mike hauled himself up the steps, gripping the railing for support. The inside of the house was largely as Mike remembered it from his single previous visit. For the living room, David had not purchased much furniture beyond the jumbo television and a single gaming chair. When they had played games, David had graciously allowed Mike to use the chair as David sat cross-legged on the floor. To these items had been added a beanbag chair, a wooden dining tray and a couple of bar stools, suggesting that this mansion's interior designer was Pier One. The guy calling himself Dave kicked off his running shoes and peeled off his sweaty ankle socks, which he tossed onto the hardwood floor, joining previously discarded items of athletic clothing scattered around the room. He pointed toward the drinks Mike was holding and asked, "You mind?" Mike handed him the whole six-pack. The dude laughed and said, "I only need one." He uncapped it with his bare hands and slammed down the contents in a single uninterrupted chug. He ripped a belch that echoed on the house's hard surfaces and yelled, "Fuck, I needed that. Thanks!" He clapped a sweaty palm on Mike's shoulder, then flung himself into the beanbag chair, legs unapologetically spread wide, allowing Mike a clear view of the thin white lining of his running shorts and, beneath that, a jockstrap that was working overtime to hold in something major. Mike had to get to the meat of this (so to speak). "So you're sure we never worked together?" "Dude, I can't remember the last time I had a job. But I swear I'm motivated now. I'm trying to get in shape to take the fire department's entry exam." Mike gaped at the body sprawled in front of him. "YOU aren't in shape?" "I gotta work on my stamina. Bein' a fireman, there's no fuckin' around. Lives are on the line and shit. But I think my cardio's coming along pretty excellently. I only been at it for two weeks." Mike's legs got a bit wobbly. David had been missing for two weeks. "Two weeks? So, what were you doing before that?" The guy in the beanbag casually scratched his balls as he thought. Nothing was coming. "Fuck if I know, dude. Just livin', I guess." Mike took a seat in the video-game chair and tried to make sense of this. "Hey, I'm gonna grab a quick shower, but you're welcome to play a video game or whatever. I can trust you not to steal my shit, right?" Mike nodded as the guy called Dave leapt energetically from the beanbag chair, his big bare feet slapping hard against the wooden floor. Without a thought, he pulled his nylon running shorts down the full length of his legs and kicked the shorts through the door into his bedroom. He paused in the doorway to wriggle free from his jockstrap, which he dropped with a soggy flop onto the floor. Mike stared in awe at the exquisite symmetry of the ass cheeks across the room, and was tantalized by the glimpse of a cock head he could see in the narrow gap between Dave's brawny thighs. Once he heard the water running in the bathroom, Mike rose and began to search the house for any clues about what might have happened to David Tanner. He found no obvious hints in the living room. The kitchen was even more barren of furniture aside from appliances. A dietary chart was Scotch-taped to the wall, with fresh fruits and oatmeal containers on the counter top and a fridge full of steaks, chicken breasts, yogurt, eggs and veggies. Mike crept into the bedroom, careful to avoid being seen by Dave in the adjoining bathroom. Mike had only gotten a brief tour of the house on his previous visit, but from what he remembered, not much had changed. The king-size bed was unmade, which the anal David would never have allowed. More clothes were strewn about, along with the bags from the stores where they were purchased. Mike rifled through the empty bags and found receipts for the items purchased, all within the past two weeks. A cheap cellphone rested on the floor next to the bed. Mike checked it and saw it was not David's old number and that only a few calls had been made on it, also in the last two weeks, with no text messages. Then Mike noticed the one strange item that would differentiate this from any average sloppy bachelor's bedroom. Hanging on the door to the closet was a San Francisco fireman's uniform. It seemed bizarre to Mike that the fire department would give a uniform to someone who wasn't a member of the force. Maybe this Dave guy was fucking a fireman who had left his uniform behind. Mike tiptoed across the room, flinching when the floorboards squeaked under his weight. He reached the closet and began to rifle through the pockets with his stubby hands. Nothing in the jacket pockets, but in the pants pockets he felt something. He reached in and pulled out two items. One was a business card that he couldn't read in the unlit room, the other was another cell phone. Mike attempted to switch on the phone, but it was drained of juice. His eyes scanned the room until he saw a charging cord plugged in the wall behind the closet door. As he plugged the phone into the charger, he heard a voice behind him. "I toldja not to steal nothin'." Mike spun around, terrified at being caught, dropping the phone and stuffing the business card into the pocket of his shorts. He'd been so caught up in his snooping that he hadn't heard the shower stop. He attempted to look nonchalant, but was stunned to see Dave standing in silhouette in the bathroom doorway, towel draped casually around his shoulders, his skin slicked with water and backlit. "I'm sorry, I was just...my cell phone..." Dave laughed and waved an arm dismissively. "I'm just fuckin' with you, man. C'mon, you hungry?" He slapped his hand over his firm abs and motioned for Mike to follow him to the kitchen. Mike would have felt foolish to do anything other than what this dude requested. He walked several steps behind, admiring how Dave's bare ass shifted with each stride. Goddamn, this guy had absolutely no self-consciousness about his body. He was walking fully nude in front of some fat slob he only kind of thought he might know, and it didn't bother him a bit. This cat was cool. Dave set about making his supper, grilling a steak and whipping up a spinach salad. Despite repeated inquiries, Mike insisted that he wasn't hungry (not for food, at least). He pulled up a bar stool and downed more hard lemonade as he watched the naked chef go about his business. Dave stuffed a spinach leaf in his mouth. "So what's your name? Maybe that'll jog my...ya know..." "Mike. I work at DigiWarp." The word "DigiWarp" did seem to ignite a spark in Dave's eyes, but the spark dulled by the time it reached his brain. "You look so fuckin' familiar, dude. I feel like I should remember you from somewhere. I mean, you're a lot to forget." He gestured toward Mike's gut. Mike smiled weakly, as always trying not to be overly sensitive. Dave detected this and looked immediately apologetic. "Sorry, that was a real fucked-up thing to say. I didn't mean nothin'. You seem like a cool guy." No one had ever said THAT to Mike before. "Well, we can't all have a body like yours," Mike said, quickly plugging a bottle of booze in his mouth to prevent drooling. "All you need is a good diet and discipline, man. You think I always looked like this?" "I don't know," Mike said. "Did you?" Dave had to consider that. His memory was so shitty lately, like part of his brain was just plain gone. He sure hoped there wasn't gonna be a lot of math on the fire department exam. He dodged the question and pointed toward Mike's bottle. "Ya know, that shit fucks up your body. Lemme have another one, 'kay?" Mike playfully pulled the remaining bottles out of Dave's reach. "No. Maybe I don't want you fuck up your bod." Did he actually say "bod"? Was he seriously flirting with this man who was so far out of his league? Even if somehow that really was David inside that cocoon of beautiful muscle, he sure wasn't acting like it. Mike hardly felt like he belonged to the same species as the gorgeous specimen standing naked before him. Dave sauntered across the kitchen and stretched an arm around Mike to grab a bottle. "I just ran ten miles. I think I deserve a treat, don't you?" As Dave's cock grazed against Mike's arm, it jolted and rose slightly. Dave noticed as Mike's eyes dropped down to gaze at his dick. "Unless you can think of a better treat." Mike became short of breath again and looked at Dave to see if this was a gag, but Dave was staring back through half-closed eyes that radiated sincerity. "You serious?" "Serious as the heart attack you're having, dude." He grabbed Mike's pudgy hand and led him back to the living room. Dave flopped into the leather gaming chair, his damp, bare skin clinging to the upholstery. He leaned back and stroked himself lazily while waiting for Mike, who was frantically trying to pull himself free from his stupid, sopping-wet XXXL shirt. He clumsily lowered himself to the floor, kneeling before Dave in his leather throne, and wrapped his lips around the head of Dave's glorious cock. It was already semi-hard and leaking cum, but grew dramatically as soon as Mike's tongue made contact. Dave leaned his head back and let the sensation rush through his body. He didn't know why he'd been so sex-crazy lately. He didn't remember always being so willing to fuck any guy he met. Then again, he didn't remember NOT being that way either. This Mike guy might be a tub of goo, but he seemed harmless and it was obvious from the way he'd been staring that it would be a major "Dear Diary" moment in this guy's life if he could just polish Dave's knob once. Even though he had whacked off in the shower, Dave still needed more release after that long run. A mouth is a mouth, thought Dave, and this guy seems to be eager. Why wouldn't he be eager? Just fuckin' look at me! Mike was so thrilled by what was happening that he had already shot a load in his pants, but he didn't let on to Dave. He continued sucking and licking, trying to remember any move he'd seen in the videos he had watched in college while his roommates were out banging cheerleaders and poetry majors (of both genders). He had always thought himself so undesirable that he had never found himself in a situation that even offered him the opportunity for sex. To be deep-throating this stud, however strange the circumstances, was a chance he could not pass up. He started to wheeze as Dave's cock swelled to its full nine inches, but he refused to gag. Dave's cock fired, launching clots of thick cream so far down Mike's throat that, only as Dave pulled out, dragging his still pulsating head across Mike's tongue, did Mike get a full sense of the flavor of Dave's cum. Exhausted, Mike flopped shirtless onto the floor, smiling euphorically. Dave waited a respectful fifteen seconds before loping back into the kitchen. It was all over so quickly that his steak was still rare. * * * The next thing Mike heard was gunfire. It startled him awake and he lifted his bulky shoulders off the floor. Propped up on his elbows, he looked beside him and saw Dave seated in his gamer chair and lost in a ferocious gunfight on the massive video screen. Dave's empty plate, salad bowl, and three more empties of Mike's Hard rested by his bare feet. While Mike was dozing, Dave had gotten dressed...to an extent. He wore a black Under Armour sleeveless and skintight black compression leggings which clung so tightly to every contour of Dave's body that he may as well have been spray-painted black. Mike smiled up at Dave, who glanced down for a millisecond to smile back and inform Mike, "You fuckin' snore, dude." Mike rolled his substantial frame on its side and watched the action on the screen. Dave was slaughtering anyone who came in his path. His reflexes were astounding. His long-fingered hands masterfully worked the controls in a frenzy...just like David's had. "This game is great for hand-eye coordination. I am gonna fuckin' ace the firefighting exam." Mike turned back to Dave, smirking. "Just because you're good in a firefight doesn't mean you're good at firefighting. You do know that you don't actually fight fires with guns, right?" "Yes, I know. You think I'm an idiot or something?", Dave said, laughing and pushing a bare smelly foot into Mike's face. Mike squirmed away, yelling, "Gross," but he secretly loved it. His cock was semi-hard again. "I gotta take a leak." "Go ahead. Piss your heart out." Mike waddled through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He didn't want to break the awesome mood he was in, so tried to avoid catching a reflection of his flab in the mirror. But reality hit home when he needed to pull out his penis and, as usual, had to fumble around under his enormous overhanging gut to extract it from his shorts. He had come to think of his cock like a black hole: he couldn't actually see it, but based on the evidence, he was convinced that it must exist. He was tempted to jerk off, but his bladder was shouting more urgently to his brain, and maybe if he was lucky, he'd get Dave to jack him off or blow him or... "Stop it," yelled Mike's bladder, "I'll never get to piss if you keep thinking about things like that." Mike sighed with relief and unleashed perhaps the longest piss of his life. After a few final afterthought squirts, he pulled his baggy shorts up to what technically qualified as his waist. As he dragged the shorts up his thigh, he remembered there was something extra in his pocket. He dug in and pulled out the dog-eared business card he had found earlier. He examined it in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. It read, "MR. LEE, X-DREAM MAKEOVERS", followed by some Chinese symbols. "X-Dream Makeovers," Mike thought. Could this be the explanation for how shy, nerdy David had seemingly been transformed into the musclehead currently racking up kills in the living room? There was no address on either side of the card. Mike remembered the cell phone he had found along with the card and tiptoed into the bedroom. The phone was still recharging but had enough juice that Mike could boot it up. A quick look at the phone showed that the ringer had been turned to vibrate and that all of Mike's texts and voicemails had come through, but none seemed to have been read or listened to. As he scrolled around, he noticed that the last message received and read two weeks ago was from someone named Kenneth. It gave a street address that Mike knew was on the fringes of Chinatown, followed by "IT'LL BE THE BEST INVESTMENT OF YOUR LIFE. CALL ME AFTER. ;)" Could whatever had happened to David have been so dramatic that it wiped out his memory to the point that he didn't even remember where his phone was? Did he even remember to get back in touch with whoever sent him to get the makeover? Mike forwarded the text to his own phone, so he would have the address, and stuffed the business card back into his pocket. Returning to the living room, Mike held the cell phone in front of Dave's face. "Is this your cell?" Dave shoved the phone out of his face and continued with his game. "Could be. I couldn't find my phone, so I just bought a new one. You know what's nuts? Turns out I got like crazy amounts of money in the bank." Of course he does, thought Mike. He's David Tanner, tech wizard and multi-millionaire, only he's oblivious to those facts. Now he's Dave Tanner, Mike's dream boy, with nothing on his mind beyond getting in shape, becoming a fireman, and laying waste to whatever videogame character pops up around the next corner. Dave addressed Mike without ever turning his attention from the screen. "Listen, I gotta get to bed so I can hit the gym at five a.m. It was great to meet you and all. I hope you find that guy you were looking for." "Thanks. I think I did." Dave was already lost in the game again. Mike pulled his Astro Boy shirt back on and made his way to the front door. He sneaked back into the living room, grabbed one of Dave's used ankle socks from the floor, took a whiff and stuck it in his pocket. Whatever happened next, at least he would have a souvenir of tonight. * * * Mike went directly from Dave's house to the address in the text message, so jazzed by the evening's events that he walked a full three blocks before getting too tired and riding a bus the remainder of the way. When he reached the address, he was disappointed. It was a tiny shop with dingy windows. Mike attempted to look inside, but the streetlamps barely penetrated the grime on the glass and revealed almost nothing of the interior. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep or be able to focus on his job tomorrow morning, so he faked a convincingly scratchy throat and left a message on his supervisor's voicemail that he would not be in to work. Mike did indeed stay awake all night, surfing the web. He could find no references anywhere to "X-Dream Makeovers", which seemed impossible. If someone could indeed change David the dud into Dave the stud, how could that ever remain a secret? Why wouldn't everyone one earth be storming the place? Maybe they wiped David's memories to keep him from revealing the details of his transformation? But then who was this Kenneth who told David this would be "the best investment of his life" and that he should "call me after semicolon end-parenthesis"? So many questions, so many hours until daylight. Mike tried to pass the time by watching porn, but he kept closing his eyes and fantasizing about Dave instead. As dawn broke, Mike headed back towards the address he had found, wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt and cut-off sweat pants. The shop was not open and looked no more like a going concern than it had in the dead of night. Mike decided to grab breakfast across the street. He headed to a 7-Eleven but, rather than his typical Diet Coke Double Gulp and a couple of donuts, he decided to try yogurt and a banana this morning. If the day went as he hoped, he might be eating more healthy from now on. Regardless, the creamy texture of the yogurt and the long firm slope of the banana in his mouth brought back pleasant memories of last night. Mike hiked back to the shop, amazed by how much energy he had exerted in the past twelve hours. He still saw no lights or activity inside, but he finally decided to try the door. When he pushed the handle, the door swung open and an elderly Chinese man with a mustache was seated calmly behind a counter. He looked like he had been expecting Mike. Mike had no idea how well the man spoke English, so he pulled out the business card and pointed to it, asking, "This. You?" The man smiled serenely. "This, me. You may call me Mr. Lee." Mike took a few steps forward but realized he had left the door open. As he was turning back to close the door, Mr. Lee raised a hand and the door seemed to close on its own. The dim light which seeped through the dirty windows gave the room a feeling of foreboding. "Hi, Mr. Lee, my name is..." Mr. Lee raised a hand to stop him. "I do not need to know names." Besides, the gifted Mr. Lee already sensed that the man was named Mike and had discerned several other details about the new customer. "What can I do for you today?" "I think you helped a friend of mine a couple weeks ago. His name was... Well, his name doesn't matter. But maybe you remember him. He was a skinny quiet guy who designed brilliant software. Only now I went to his house last night and there's this big hunky guy living there who wants to be a fireman." Mr. Lee showed no outward sign of it, but he indeed remembered the one who left dressed as a fireman. He also remembered the fireman who had left behind the uniform in the first place. Mr. Lee remembered many things. "You are sure it is the same man. Perhaps the first man moved away and the fireman moved in." "No, no, no, they've got the same name. They've got the same eyes. They've got the same voice...sorta. I mean, that's about it, but I'm still sure it's the same guy." "So what is it you wish from me? You also wish to be a fireman?" Mike realized that he had not planned an answer for this question, even though it was the one he hoped he would be asked. "Well, I dunno. What exactly do you do here?" "You tell me what you want to change about yourself, and we agree on a price you are willing to pay for that change." "Oh, man. I don't have anything like the money Da...my friend has. No wonder you don't have lines around the block. You must charge like a billion dollars." "I do not charge money. I ask you to give me something of yours in exchange for what you wish. From this, I replenish my stock of ingredients." He gestured with a practiced flourish to indicate the multi-colored jars on the shelves behind him. "What do you wish to change about yourself?" Mike looked down at his body, then back at Mr. Lee. "Isn't it kinda obvious?" "I never assume. Unfortunately, to be blunt, I do not need more fat in my inventory. There is not much call for it, except the occasional gentleman who wishes to be...what is they call it...a grizzly?" "You mean a bear?", offered Mike. Mr. Lee nodded. "Yeah, I've been carting around this lard for years. I can understand why no one else would want it." Mike looked ready to give up. Compassion was Mr. Lee's greatest flaw. He couldn't bear to see a potential customer disappointed, even if it meant stockpiling ingredients that he would never use. How many times had he removed a customer's acne, knowing that no one would ever enter his shop and ask to have MORE zits? "I will not have much use for it, but better in my store room than on your body." Mike was getting seriously excited now. "You mean it? Great!" "But you have still not told me what you can give to me in exchange." Mike thought it over seriously. He felt he wasn't being falsely modest or brutally self-critical when he said, "I can't think of anything about me that's special that anyone else would want." As he heard those words out loud, Mike realized he had just stated his entire philosophy about romance. "Perhaps I could take some of your intelligence?" After all, that is what his friend had sacrificed for his new body. Mike laughed heartily. "I do not have a drop of intelligence to waste." "That is too bad. I can always use brains." Mr. Lee placed his fingertips together and hinted, "Surely a young man like yourself can think of something else." It took a moment for the suggestion to sink in. Young man? "You want...my age?" "To be accurate, what I want is your youth." In most cases, Mr. Lee discouraged people if they asked him to make them older. Those who ask for it usually regret the years they have skipped over and quickly ask for their youth back. But this young man seemed to be carrying so much weight, not just physically but emotionally, that he already seemed ready to be old. "I sense you have been worn down by life, despite your young age. You do not even have your hair." "Maybe you could give me some?", Mike said, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "I could. But only in exchange for something else." Mike had not anticipated this complication. What would he be willing to give up to gain what he wanted? It made him question the entire concept of who he was. If he was miraculously thin all of a sudden, how would that affect the way he acted and the way others acted toward him? If he showed up at work and was twenty years older, would he get newfound respect or would he be thrown out by security as a crazy person? "If I go through with this, will I still remember who I am?", Mike asked. "You should." Sometimes, when he drained off someone's intelligence, memories got lost in the process. Mr. Lee was sure that was what had happened to Mike's friend, David, but he had seemed so delighted in his new fireman's uniform, and all of the innate wisdom and common sense he would need as a firefighter were still intact. Mr. Lee never wanted there to be negative consequences from the changes he made. He didn't want to read in the newspaper one day that someone had died in a blaze because their fireman was an idiot. "And will other people still remember who I am?" "Depends on how much you change. Big change, more problems. How you explain is up to you. If you need new name, new driver's license, new Social Security, that up to you. I do not handle paperwork" Raising his voice for the first time since Mike entered, Mr. Lee thundered, "But the one thing you must NEVER do is tell anyone about this store!" "Oh, right, absolutely, my lips are sealed." Of course Mr. Lee depended on customers breaking this vow in order to bring in new business. But he figured it didn't hurt to spook them with a little threat, so they would only mention the store confidentially to those who could truly benefit most from Mr. Lee's services. Mike couldn't believe he was negotiating this. "How many years are we talking about?" "Depends on how skinny you want to be." "Let's say I lost 180 pounds." Mr. Lee pulled a wooden abacus from under the counter, slid the beads around in a way he had never learned to understand but gave his presentation a certain level of showmanship, and declared, "Eighteen years." "Whoa," said Mike, contemplating walking out of this store as a 40-year-old, albeit a skinny 40-year-old. "Can we make it fifteen?" Somehow the notion of being 37 was slightly easier to stomach. "We can make it whatever you want. It is your decision." "Would that mean I'll live fifteen years less? That I'll die sooner?" "You could live to 115. You could be hit by a truck tomorrow. The question: how do you want to live whatever time you have?" Mike looked down at his bulbous body. He definitely didn't want to be carrying around this load for the rest of his life. But wasn't he crazy to be considering something this weird and drastic? Maybe he should just grow some balls and join a gym. Oh, who was he kidding? That would never happen. Whereas what Mr. Lee was offering was immediate, and he'd already seen the results it had on David. Mr. Lee was already getting jars off his shelves, as if he knew that Mike had made his decision. Which, in fact, he had. "Okay, fifteen years." Mr. Lee raised his hands and the room became dark, except for a single spotlight shining on Mike. Showmanship again. "If you are ready, I will take your fifteen years from you." Mike braced himself, not knowing how you prepare to lose fifteen years of your life. He tensed up, closed his eyes and nodded. Mr. Lee opened a jar with a small amount of yellow powder at the bottom. It had been so long since he had persuaded anyone to sacrifice their youth that his supply was nearly gone. He watched as Mike's large body began to sag even more than usual. Light yellow particles, like clumps of pollen, began to seep out of Mike's pores and float across the room into the open jar. Mike's head remained bald, his eyebrows became flecked with gray, and the spotlight even caught the emergence of small hairs from his ears and nostrils. "Can I look yet?", asked Mike. It felt to him like his body was melting. "No, keep your eyes closed please." Mr. Lee didn't think Mike would like what he saw if he opened his eyes now. If he was unhappy with his hefty body as a 22-year-old, seeing that same body at 37 might be a devastating shock that could damage him permanently. To remove Mike's fat cells, Mr. Lee used a jerry-rigged device with ropes, a funnel and a hose. It looked like the sort of thing the Amish might use to perform liposuction. He pulled up Mike's sweatshirt to reveal his enormous belly and positioned the funnel at Mike's navel, tying it in place with ropes stretched around his back. The hose fed from the funnel into an underground tank where the fat was collected after removal. Mr. Lee always had such an excess of his customers' fat in the tank that he was forced to sell it, just to get it off his hands. He knew never to eat fried food from any of the restaurants who purchased it. Mr. Lee clapped his hands twice, which somehow activated this non-mechanical device. Immediately, Mike could feel the fat cells from throughout his body being drawn toward his belly button like iron filings toward a magnet. Clots of liquid lard began to ooze through the hose and under the floorboards. As the body fat shrank, Mike's skin began to tingle as it contracted. Untoned muscles which had been camouflaged for years by thick layers of obesity were revealed. The viscous stream from Mike's navel slowed and eventually stopped. Mr. Lee removed the device and declared, "Now you can look." Mike grimaced in the glare of the spotlight, then caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall. The man looking back at him was startlingly unrecognizable, but at the same time familiar, and Mike suddenly realized that it was like looking at a tweaked version of his own father. He stroked his newly slender fingers across his cheek, stunned to discover cheekbones and an elegant nose that had been lurking unseen on his face all these years. He found his chrome-dome look was considerably more bad-ass on this less bloated head. Crows' feet by his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead provided evidence of the years he had lost, but also suggested the wisdom of age. All Mike was missing was the actual wisdom. His cut-off sweats and boxer underwear had dropped to the floor once his waistline receded, revealing knobby but not unattractive legs. His sweatshirt now felt like a circus tent draped over his shoulders. He essentially climbed out of the shirt, tossing it aside so he could take in his fully naked body. No question, he looked middle-aged, but he now had the slim build of someone who was generally healthy but didn't exercise much. Maybe he could whip himself into better shape with a hand from Dave. Mike's mind toyed with the vision of Dave whipping him with his hands, and Mike's cock stirred to arousal. He was glad that he hadn't aged further, as his cock was still spry enough to spring into action after a single fleeting horny thought. Seeing his cock and balls on full display in the mirror, Mike realized they looked pretty much the way he'd remembered, but they looked bigger now that the body surrounding them was so much smaller. He hadn't turned into a traffic-stopper like Dave, but given how little he had to barter with, he was pleased with his new body overall. And somehow, with age, he felt less agitated and more serene, less self-doubting and more self-assured. It certainly didn't hurt his self image that he could finally see his toes again. "Are you pleased, Mr. Mike?", asked Mr. Lee. "I'm amazed," responded Mike, not realizing he had never told Mr. Lee his name. Mr. Lee pushed the mirror aside, revealing a room filled with clothes. "Please choose some clothing that suits the new you. I will give you some privacy." Mr. Lee went back behind his counter while Mike entered the room and evaluated his options. He felt like he'd wandered into a thrift shop, where clothes of different styles and even from different eras hung side by side. Mike had no idea what size clothes would even fit this new body, so he tried on several items, all of which he discovered were too roomy for him. He strolled down to the smaller sizes and spotted a gray hoodie and khaki shorts which looked very familiar. They were practically a uniform for David when he worked at DigiWarp, at least on the days when he didn't need to use his color-coordinated system to look more put together for visiting clients. Curious, Mike attempted to slip on the shorts, but even after all this weight loss, Mike was still heavier than the old stick-thin David had been. He did, however, discover something folded in one of the pockets of the shorts. He pulled it out and noticed that it was an envelope from a law office: "Mr. Kenneth Donnelly, Attorney At Law." Could this be the Kenneth who had directed David to Mr. Lee's store? He pulled out the letter, which was about provisions for David's post-buyout investments, not life-altering body changes. Still, Mike kept the letter, as it provided him with Kenneth's work address and phone number. Mike was still completely naked with no clue what he could wear when he spied a pin-striped black suit, white shirt and red tie. He tried the pants first and they fit his new measurements almost perfectly. The whole suit couldn't have been a better fit if it had been tailored. He rummaged around the piles on the floor until he found socks and shoes that matched, then emerged into the store, modeling his new look for Mr. Lee, who nodded approvingly. Mike admired himself in the mirror, amazed by the trim figure he cut. As the front of his slacks bent outward, he realized that he was becoming aroused by his reflection, another new phenomenon for Mike. As Mr. Lee was placing his magic substances back on the shelves, he dipped a tablespoon into the yellow powder of youth and swallowed it down. A small dose like that didn't produce any major changes, maybe a few darker hairs in his mustache. Mostly, it gave Mr. Lee the quick jolt of energy he sometimes needed in the morning ever since he had given up coffee. * * * "Mr. Donnelly, there's a gentleman here to see you," came the voice over the intercom. Kenneth Donnelly looked annoyed. He had taken off his jacket and was loosening his tie, preparing to take his midday exercise break. "I was just about to head out." The assistant's voice squawked again. "He says it's regarding David Tanner." Kenneth stopped suddenly, leaving one end of the tie dangling much further from his collar than the other. "Send him in please." The door opened and Mike strode in with a sense of confidence and purpose he had rarely felt, still wearing his new suit from Mr. Lee's store. He made a quick evaluation of Kenneth Donnelly. Based on his wavy graying hair, Mike would peg him in his early forties, although his blue eyes were bright, penetrating and youthful. At first, he appeared stocky, but on closer inspection, his dress shirt was simply loose to accommodate the impressive arms and torso underneath. Through the shirt, one could clearly see the outlines of a ribbed white tank tightly caressing Kenneth's curves. Donnelly was used to making quick judgments about people as well, and he was immediately curious to hear what the man in the pin-striped suit had to say. "You have information about David Tanner?" He gestured for the man to take a seat, but Mike remained standing. "I'm a friend of David's and I believe you have information about what happened to him two weeks ago." Donnelly looked alarmed. "What do you think 'happened' to him?" Mike thought Donnelly seemed genuinely concerned, but he could just be a lawyer who was good at feigning emotions when required. Mike pulled Mr. Lee's business card from his pocket and showed it to Donnelly. "Do you know anything about this?" Donnelly kept his hands in his pockets and studied Mike. "What do you know about it?" "Can you give me any answers that aren't in the form of a question?" Donnelly pondered what he should tell this stranger. "Can I at least know who I'm talking to?" "My name's Mike. I worked with David at DigiWarp. And I'm pretty sure you're the person who sent David to see Mr. Lee." Donnelly motioned for Mike to lower his voice and crossed the office to shut the door so they wouldn't be overheard. He gestured again for Mike to take a seat, but he found that he preferred to remain standing, eye to eye with Donnelly, alpha male to alpha male. Although they were roughly the same height, Donnelly seemed to shrink a bit under Mike's glare. "I knew I shouldn't be spreading the word about Mr. Lee. Are you telling me David actually went?" "Didn't you tell him to?" "I...mentioned it. He was such a mess when we were working on his buyout, so lacking in self-worth despite all his success. I thought it might be a good idea for him to see a shrink. When he shot that down, I told him about Mr. Lee. But I never heard another word from him, so I figured he had ignored my suggestion and was just sulking around in that new mansion of his. So..." Donnelly paused before asking, "How does he look?" Mike could tell from the glint in Donnelly's eye that the lawyer was very curious to hear a detailed description, with exact measurements if possible. "He looks amazing. Keeps saying he wants to be a fireman, but I get the feeling he'd settle for exotic dancer. Anything that involves sliding on poles." Donnelly grinned, tantalized. "So if you already knew about Mr. Lee and what he had done to David, why are you here?" Mike put his cards on the table. "Because he's dumb as a bag of hammers now. He's like this big, lovable, well-hung puppy dog." "And, what, you want me to take him back to Mr. Lee and make him smart again?" Mike hesitated. "No, I don't think I want that. I mean, I've never seen him so happy. It's probably good for him that he doesn't have a care in the world. I'm just worried that someone will come along and take advantage of his good nature and rob him blind." "Not a problem. I will personally look after all of his interests and will not let him sign anything that is against his interests." Mike nodded, but didn't say anything. Donnelly could sense what was bothering Mike. Donnelly ponted at Mike and said, "YOU want to be the one who makes sure he's taken care of." Mike nodded, feeling a bit foolish. Donnelly smiled more broadly. "You're in love with him." Mike took a long time before he was able to say a simple "Yeah." "Since when?" "If I'm honest, probably since I met him. He was such a special person, and not just because of his mind. And, now, I swear to god, it's not just because of his body. I think I always saw something sweet in him that nobody else did. Look at me. I'm just a nobody. I'm not special at anything and I'm never gonna be. But if I can be the person looking out for someone special, maybe that's special enough." Donnelly was not immune to sentiment. He knew the man before him was being genuine. "If David looks as good as you say he does, there will be a lot of people trying to get between you and him." Mike looked up with determination. "Let 'em try." Donnelly was impressed. He cast a lingering glance at Mike's body and asked, "So what did Mr. Lee do for you?" He'd never met Donnelly before. Donnelly had no idea how Mike had looked before this morning. "How do you know he did anything?" Donnelly smirked as he pointed to Mike's wardrobe. "Because that's my old suit." * * * Dave was doing crunches on a yoga mat when a faint pounding seeped through the earbuds that were cranking house music. He finished his set of one-hundred before popping out the earbuds. Yup, somebody was beating on his door. He shouted, "Who is it?" "It's Kenneth Donnelly, your lawyer." Dave tried to remember if he had a lawyer. And what exactly a lawyer was. He walked to the door and opened it without checking the peephole. Donnelly stood on the front stoop with his briefcase, dressed casually in his after-work wardrobe of a polo shirt and white slacks, the shirt's elastic cuffs riding high on his ripped biceps, exposing his Celtic tattoos. If anything, Mike had undersold his description of Dave, who was bathed in sweat and wearing only a pair of soaked olive-green boxer briefs. Donnelly would have loved to get a court order to poke through those briefs, but he firmly believed that the only time you should fuck your client is when you send them your bill. Donnelly set aside prurient thoughts and got to business. "I've got some papers I want you to look over, so I thought I'd swing by on my way home, rather than making you come into the office." "Cool," Dave said, waving the man inside. He had no clue what this was about, but the guy seemed to know what he was doing. Dave took the video game chair, leaving Donnelly the option of a sweaty yoga mat or a beanbag chair. He opted for squatting in the beanbag. "First, just for official identification purposes, can I ask what is your name?" "Sure you can." Dave waited for another question. Even Donnelly was surprised just how precipitously David's IQ had fallen. But Mike had been right, all traces of David's crippling anxiety and lack of confidence were absent in the dude seated across from him. "Okay. What is your name?" "Dave Tanner." "Good, Dave. Now you might not remember it, but you recently came into a lot of money. And you hired me to help safeguard it. But you have a friend who, if you agree to it, would like to help you on a more day-to-day basis. Does that sound good?" "You bet! Who's the friend?" "Do you have a friend named Mike?" Dave scratched his tangle of curly hair vigorously, as if he were trying to scratch all the way through to the brain. Finally, it hit him. "Oh, you mean the fat dude from last night?" Donnelly smirked and shouted through the still-open front door. "Hey, fat dude, come on in." Dave swiveled his chair around and watched as a man in his mid-to-late thirties stepped through the doorway. The bald head and slightly wrinkled face were recognizable from this morning's visit to Mr. Lee, but from the chin down, this was Mike 3.0. If the first transformation had changed Mike into the equivalent of a middle-aged accountant, he would now be more firmly typecast as a gay-bar bouncer or motorcycle-gang member. Much of his bulk was back, but in the form of enormous muscles. His traps strained the straps of his black stringer tank, which was stretched tight across his solid shelf of pecs. Veins leapt out in sharp relief against the mighty curves of his arm muscles. Black denim shorts hung down to his knees, exposing calves which were once again the size of piano legs, just more elegantly carved. He exuded confidence as he nodded, "Hey, Dave." Dave crossed the room to get a better look at Mike's body. If Dave had become an ideally sculpted David, Mike was now a crushingly powerful Goliath. "Dude, you gotta tell me what gym you go to!" Mike grinned. "Same place as you." After Mike's visit to Donnelly's office, they decided another trip to Mr. Lee's shop would be necessary if Mike were ever going to have a shot at competing for Dave's attention among the sea of well-built men surrounding them. Mr. Lee broke his primary rule by not giving Mike muscles in exchange for some other attribute. Instead, he agreed to accept free legal counsel from Donnelly for the next year. As careful and selective as Mr. Lee tried to be, there were always disgruntled customers threatening to sue, so having a powerful attorney -- legally and physically -- could come in handy. Donnelly was willing to make such a deal because he felt guilty that he hadn't accompanied David to Mr. Lee's shop to keep him from making any ill-advised choices, although seeing the joy on Dave's face right now, he wasn't sure that Dave hadn't gotten exactly the body and mind he wanted and needed. "So," Dave asked Mike, "how was your day?" Mike shot a glance at Donnelly. "Eventful." Donnelly left a sheaf of papers on one of the barstools. "I'll just leave these here for Mike to explain to you. They'll allow Mike to make routine purchasing and investment decisions for the two of you. If you agree to it, you two can just sign the documents where the flags are and get the originals back to my office. You can keep the second copies for yourselves." Donnelly may as well have been speaking to an empty room, as Mike and Dave were now kissing hungrily. Mike's meaty hand was palming Dave's firm ass, and Dave was frantically unbuckling Mike's belt. Donnelly had to squeeze his own substantial body past them to get to the door. "Okay, you two have a good night. I'm sure you will." Donnelly headed down the sidewalk, smiling with certainty that at least two of Mr. Lee's customers wouldn't be suing him in disappointment. As Donnelly reached his Tesla double-parked in the street, he realized he'd forgotten to remind Mike of something. He jogged back to the front door and said, "Mike, don't forget to call DigiWarp and tell them you quit." Mike and Dave were both now naked on the yoga mat, grunting and moaning, with Mike taking his new eleven-inch cock for a test piledrive up Dave's tight ass. Donnelly smirked. Mr. Lee had resisted throwing in that cock for free, but Donnelly talked him into it. "Tell them you got a better offer."
  23. The Recruit

    "So, is it true? Ya know, about the formula?", Casey asked eagerly, kneeling on the bed of the San Diego motel room, his lithe body dressed in nothing but his camouflage-patterned briefs. "What formula?", said Andre, the incredibly muscular young man wearing nothing at all. Andre stood by the window, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as the morning light seeping through the blinds cast flattering shadows across the impressive contours of his body. "You are such a bad liar!", Casey giggled, rolling onto his back. "You do that scratching your face thing every time you fib. You must be terrible at poker." "When have I told a lie?" "Let's see," mused Casey, stretching his right leg toward the ceiling. "For starters, last night at Rich's, you told me you were a mailman." "I could be a mailman." "Riiiight. Like, only the most awesomely jacked mailman in postal service history. Plus you told me your name was Sam Adams, which you only said after staring at the label on your beer bottle." Andre hung his head in exaggerated shame. "You got me." "Indeed I did," Casey said with a grin, his eyebrows jolting victoriously upwards. "It's a good thing you're not a spy. I could figure out all your secrets." "How do you know I'm not a spy?", Andre teased. "I do some of my best work undercover." Casey groaned, hurling a pillow toward the windows, which Andre deftly dodged. Casey extended his slender arm toward Andre and wiggled his fingers beckoningly. Andre wrapped his beefy fingers around Casey's hand and, when Casey gave the slightest tug, Andre tumbled onto the bed as if yanked by an irresistible force. Casey rested his chin on Andre's meaty shoulder and brushed his fingertips over Andre's massive torso, skipping lightly over the bumps of his ribs and tracing figure-eights in the grooves of Andre's well-defined abs. Casey had been certain Andre was a marine from the moment he spotted him walking tentatively into Rich's nightclub alongside a couple of similarly buff buddies. The theme that night was "Active Duty", when marines from nearby Camp Pendleton were allowed in with no cover charge. Casey observed that most of the military guys had gone out of their way to dress as "civilian" as possible, getting more than their share of playing soldier in real life, while the other boys on the dance floor took advantage of the theme as an excuse to get dressed up in some sort of uniform. Andre's Hawaiian shirt, baggy cargos and leather flip-flops didn't fool Casey. With his rigid posture and severe buzz cut, Andre simply screamed "marine", and if Casey had his way, he would have that marine screaming by the end of the night. The "Semper Fi" tattoo poking out from under Andre's sleeve only confirmed Casey's assumptions. Casey, who had assembled his own outfit at a surplus store in El Cajon, was dressed in a garrison cap, floppy black boots, camo underpants and white shorts. A corporal's khaki shirt was draped like a tent on his lanky frame, its tails knotted loosely over his bare tummy. With his minimal muscle tone, boyish face and gelled hair with frosted tips, Casey was unlikely to pass as a real serviceman no matter what he wore. Casey had a lifelong obsession with the military. His father and two of his brothers had served, and Casey had grown up assuming that he would follow their path. But he had never sprouted to a formidable size like his brawny brothers and was prone to asthma attacks, which had cemented in place an inferiority complex which he had never overcome. He also realized at a young age that he really, really, really liked boys, which he initially figured would be an automatic disqualifier, although the exquisite hunk of man on the bed beside him proved him wrong on that count. He knew he was cute and fun and could turn on the flirtatious charm when necessary, but he was still amazed that he had lured Andre away from the club when there were so many more studly specimens on display. Maybe Andre just had a thing for twinks, or maybe Casey simply pestered him so much that he surrendered to the inevitable. Either way, Casey had achieved his goal and, as the dull ache inside of Casey reminded him, if Andre had any complaints about Casey's body, they sure hadn't stopped him from fucking Casey all night. "So you're not gonna answer me, huh?", Casey persisted. "About what?" "The formula," Casey said with a brisk playful slap against Andre's eight-pack. "It's all anyone has been talking about lately in the clubs and at the gym, how much more ripped you boys from Camp Pendleton have been getting all of a sudden. Rumor has it that you're using something based on that super-soldier serum from World War Two." Andre glanced sideways at Casey and chuckled. "You mean like Captain America? You are aware that's a comic book, right? Do you think we're all getting bitten by radioactive spiders too?" "I wouldn't put it past them. I'm just saying, I study you boys...very closely. And I gotta say, I've never seen anyone make these kind of gains." "Maybe we're just trying harder," said Andre stone-faced, purposely rubbing his whiskers to taunt Casey. "Now you're just being a dick," Casey sneered, followed immediately by a grin. The two men grabbed a quick breakfast before heading out for a brisk hike. Andre pulled a change of clothes from the trunk of his car, hitting the trails in a tight olive-drab tank, cut-off jeans and a rugged pair of Timberlands, while Casey still wore the half-assed uniform he had worn to the club. "You know, you really shouldn't be walking around in public like that," Andre warned. "People will think you're trying to impersonate a marine." Casey tapped a finger against the sternum of his flat chest, exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. "If someone sees the two of us, you're honestly saying they'll think I'M the marine?" Casey cackled and ran ahead of Andre on the dirt trail. Andre stayed in place, giving Casey a head start and allowing himself a few moments to admire Casey's firm little ass. But once Casey tauntingly berated Andre for being a "wuss", Andre could not let that stand. He pounded his way up the trail, quickly breezing past Casey, who was already chugging along and looking winded. "Ha, look at you! Who's the wuss now?" Andre's laughter boomed across the hillside as he jogged ahead of Casey, facing backwards. He continued to chuckle as Casey staggered and clutched a hand to his chest, but the severity of Casey's wheezing and the purple hue of his face made Andre stop in his tracks. When Casey turned his ankle and dropped to one knee, Andre rushed back and guided him to the side of the trail, where Casey sat down and rested his back against a tree. "Shit, man, are you gonna be okay?" Casey nodded as his coughing fit subsided. "It'll pass," he said, extracting an inhaler from his pants pocket and sucking in a much-needed puff. He shot a glance at Andre squatting beside him, his powerful quads practically bursting out of his shorts. "It's not fucking fair. I bet you were already totally built before you even entered the service, and every day you just get fitter and sexier. Me, I can't run fifty feet without collapsing like a ninety-year-old who had his walker stolen. I'd give anything to be like you." Andre placed a comforting hand on the soft slope of Casey's shoulder and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. As the kiss lingered, Casey's body shook as if stifling a chuckle. Andre pulled back and asked, "What's the matter?" "It's just funny," Casey said, flashing a wide grin. "Here I am suffocating, and you're taking my breath away." Andre stood up, holding Casey's hand. "You think you can walk with me?" Casey nodded and rose on wobbly coltish legs, and the pair resumed their hike, slowly strolling side by side and hand in hand. After a sunset dinner at the Chart House, Andre drove Casey back to his apartment. "I wish you didn't have to go," Casey said. Andre shrugged his shoulders. "Me too, but I gotta report back..." "To your mail route, I know." He kissed Andre, then asked, "Am I ever gonna see you again?" "Absolutely. You know the mailman's code." He pointed to the "Semper Fi" tat which spanned his right biceps. "Always faithful." Casey smirked. "Fuckin' A." He turned and gimped his way toward his apartment. As Andre watched, he made a silent resolution to himself. After two weeks without a word, Casey had given up hope of seeing Andre again. When he did eventually spot Andre strolling into Rich's on a Saturday night, in a body-hugging white tee and obscenely tight jeans, Casey was simultaneously thrilled and angry. Wearing only silver hot pants with matching high-tops and liberally sprinkled with sparkling confetti, he marched across the dance floor, skinny arms swinging furiously, hands balled into unintimidating fists. "Whatever happened to 'Semper Fi', asshole?", he demanded. Andre was taken aback by Casey's fury. "Uh, hi to you too, Casey. I love what you're not wearing." "Where the fuck have you been? You never heard of texting?" "I'm sorry, man. I was away on training exercises," Andre shouted over the music. "But you're right, I am an asshole. I should have taken a second to drop you a message. If it makes any difference, I was thinking about you the whole time." "Riiight. Easy to say," Casey said, crossing his scrawny arms in defiance, on the verge of hyperventilating. "Let me make it up to you. I'll buy you a drink. What do you want?" A drink hardly seemed like sufficient penance, but at least it was something. "Kamikaze. No ice." "You got it. Be right back." As Andre marched toward the bar, Casey watched as dozens of heads swiveled to take in Andre's sculpted body. Casey sulked, mired in the feelings of depression and rejection that had dogged him in the two weeks of silence since he had last seen Andre. Sure, he might have been able to smile seductively and waggle his pert ass enough to capture Andre's attention for one fun weekend, but what chance did Casey have of holding onto a guy like Andre who could clearly have his pick of any man in the club? He gyrated half-heartedly on the dance floor as he awaited Andre's return. "Here is your kamikaze," Andre said, handing the glass to Casey, then clinking it with his own bottle of Samuel Adams. Casey took a gulp of his drink and gagged. The vodka and lime juice were strong, but they couldn't entirely mask the taste of some foreign ingredient. "What the fuck? Did you slip something into my drink?" "What? No!", Andre insisted, unaware that he was rubbing his hand across his five-o'clock shadow. "You better not be Cosby-ing me," Casey said, bracing himself before taking another slug of the drink. There was definitely something extra in there, although he had no complaints about the unfamiliar sensations which were starting to flood through his body. Casey's skin flushed and his cock began to expand inside his shorts as a pleasant heaviness fogged his mind. His dark eyes widened as he looked fondly toward Andre, but before he could say a word, his knees buckled and he tumbled forward. Andre reached his hands under Casey's armpits to prevent him from collapsing. The empty kamikaze glass slipped from Casey's limp fingers and shattered on the floor. When Casey's eyes opened, he was back in his apartment, tucked cozily under the comforter of his bed. A sliver of light emerged through a crack in the door leading to the living room. Casey drowsily swung his legs out from under the covers and placed his bare feet on the hardwood floor. He shuffled toward the light wearing only his silver-lame shorts, noticing that his silver high-tops had been placed neatly in his closet. Andre was seated on the sofa, staring at a muted TV displaying nothing but snow. "Why the hell do you have so many fucking remotes? I just wanted to watch SportsCenter and it's more complicated than launching a missile." Casey rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Did I pass out?" Andre cringed apologetically. "Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't realize it would hit you so fast. I should have taken into consideration your size." Casey barked, "Didn't realize what would hit me so fast? How dare you sneak something into my drink without my permission!" "I'm sorry! Jeez! The way you kept asking about it, I thought you'd be excited." "Kept asking about what?", Casey demanded. Andre glanced around, as if worried that he would be overheard, then whispered, "The formula." Casey rolled his eyes and flopped down into an upholstered chair. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of the idiot." "Hey, I'm not kidding," Andre continued, keeping his voice low. "You know how tough it was to sneak that stuff off the base? Maybe you should be a little more appreciative." Casey leaned forward, studying Andre for a tell, but he wasn't scratching his face and his eyes were burning with sincerity. Casey slowly settled back into the chair as an amazing realization sunk in. "When I saw how miserable you were on that hiking trail, it just seemed wrong that you weren't allowed access to something that I knew would help you. You were right, I was already in good shape before I joined up. I was probably the last person who needed that kind of boost. I gave you the same size dose they gave me, but I've got no idea how it will work on a shrimp like you." Casey jokingly flipped Andre the finger. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. But, just think, that's the last time anyone will ever be able to call you a shrimp! I'm just glad you woke up before the changes started kicking in. You wouldn't want to miss them." "Huh? Uh, no, I sure wouldn't." Casey was shaking with anticipation, his stomach churning, his still-bony fingers drumming anxiously on the armrest. It had only been a minute since he learned what was going to happen to him, yet the waiting had already become excruciating. What was the hold-up? Why couldn't it just start alread...? Just then, Casey's body jerked violently, like a head-to-toe charley horse. He shrieked in agony and wrapped his arms around each other as his legs seized up. He tumbled out of the chair and curled up in a fetal position on the floor. Andre leapt off the couch and positioned himself behind Casey, rubbing a comforting hand along Casey's narrow back. "Don't worry, the pain will go away soon." "You never said anything about pain!", Casey bellowed. But, just as Andre promised, the misery quickly eased, replaced by a comforting tranquility as his body was suffused with a feeling of great power. He stretched out, leaning his back against the sofa as he felt energy spreading throughout his body. Andre was huddled beside him, watching closely for the metamorphosis to begin. The first changes Casey noticed were to his arms which were pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat, swelling larger with each pulse. His biceps arced outward, hardening into solid masses. Thick veins emerged under his skin, bisecting his biceps and thickening across the back of his hands as they pumped more of the mysterious formula through his growing forearms. His anemic chest began to puff out with each breath, his pecs thickening into sinewy slabs. He could feel his back and shoulders broadening while his waistline remained trim. The skin was sucked tight across his stomach as his abdominal muscles tensed, surfacing like islands emerging from beneath the ocean. Beyond that, he watched as his thighs and calves ballooned into fleshy trunks that would be the envy of an Olympic bicyclist. He felt himself rising slightly from the floor as his glutes firmed up and bulged out. He also felt his cock hardening and elongating, its head snaking toward the suddenly inadequate elastic waistband of his silver shorts. Casey was unaware of the ecstatic smile on his face, which retained its boyishness while losing some of its baby fat. He beamed at Andre, awestruck by the extraordinary gift he had been given. The two men kissed, and Casey's erection shredded the strained fabric of his shorts, springing upright like a turgid ten-inch flagpole. Casey broke away from the kiss to stare in disbelief, then looked back into Andre's eyes. "So the formula is real! The rumors were all true!" Casey gasped at the maturity in his new resonant voice, a confident, commanding voice, the voice of a leader. "You didn't hear that from me," Andre grinned slyly. Casey wrapped his fingers around the base of his towering cock and gave in to the irresistible compulsion to stroke it. "You don't need to tell me. I've got the evidence first-hand!" "Well, can I be the second hand?", Andre asked, curling his own palm around Casey's hard-on. The two hands coaxed the erection to further heights, nearing a foot by Casey's astonished estimation. When pre-cum began to sputter out, Andre shifted himself until he was straddling Casey's legs, then lowered his lips onto the bright red mushroom of Casey's head. Casey's neck fell slack and he braced his arms against Andre's shoulders as Andre's tongue masterfully nursed Casey's cock until it gushed, pumping thick gobs of cum down Andre's throat. Casey slid away from the couch until he was fully prone beside Andre, post-orgasm drowsiness combining with the literal heaviness of his enhanced body. Andre rested his cheek on Casey's firm belly as Casey rubbed his palm across the bristles of the marine's buzz cut. "You're not gonna get in trouble for this, are you?" Andre shook his head. "I was extremely careful. Besides, the way I look at it, all I'm doing is bringing them an amazing new recruit." Casey chortled. "Yeah, right. Me as a marine." But the more he thought about it, he realized he now unquestionably had a marine's body, as the formula had made him as big as Andre, if not bigger in some particular areas. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. "Holy shit. I'm not winded at all. Do you think it could possibly have cured my asthma too?" "I dunno. You think Captain America has to carry around an inhaler?" Casey smiled dreamily as he pondered where this new body might take him. "Semper fi," he declared. Andre closed his eyes and murmured, "Fuckin' A."
  24. The Suit

    Not exactly my wheelhouse, but wrote this at the request of a furry friend. He is probably going to post it elsewhere too, in case you happen to come across a similar story. “Hey Chad.” Chad rolled over languidly on the couch to face Andy. Summer had just begun, and Chad wore only boxers as he woke up from his mid-day nap. His prodigious girth bulged through the thin fabric unapologetically, his head starting to peak through the rim. Chad had been unable to work out for the past year due to his herniated disc, but his body still reflected his formerly jockish stature. While he had lost a fair amount of mass, he still had above average musculature and tone. His chest stuck out proudly above where his abs had been, and his arms, though softer than before, still filled the sleeves of his shirts nicely. Chad was unsatisfied with this, but there was not much he could do about it in his condition. His cock, in the meantime, was unaffected and made this fact known at every opportunity. He grinned mischievously. Andy had been upstairs working on a “secret project” for the last few hours, and Chad had already started throbbing in anticipation. As Andy strolled down the stairs and into the living room, Chad admired his lithe body and smooth, young features. His deep jade eyes held a playful expression. “What have you got there?” Chad said, eyes intently focused on what Andy was holding behind his back. Andy grinned in kind, revealing his red panda suit. “Put this on, for starters. I made some changes I think you’ll like. I’ll go grab the head.” Chad hurriedly started donning the suit, careful to avoid aggravating his injury, and had just finished when Andy returned. So far he hadn’t noticed anything obviously different. Eager to find out what Andy had devised, he placed the red panda head over his own while Andy finished strapping up the last of the Velcro. “Okay, now don’t freak out. The spell I bound to the suit is going to start when I say the trigger word, and it might be kind of intense,” Andy said. “What? Why would I…?” Chad started to say. “Zanzibar,” Andy whispered. In spite of Andy’s warning, Chad started to freak out just a little. The suit tightened around his body when Andy had released the spell. While the fabric wasn’t constricting him, it started to conform perfectly to the outline of his body. “What did you do?” he said, a note of panic in his voice. Andy just smirked and watched as the transformation began. Chad first felt a warmth in his groin that slowly radiated outwards across the rest of his flesh. As it spread, his muscles tensed and relaxed rhythmically beneath the fabric, growing slowly with every flexion. The suit continued to alter its shape to accommodate the changes. It expanded where his swelling biceps and burgeoning triceps fought for space on his arms, while it shrank in the waist as his abs tightened into thick cords of muscle. It failed to keep up around his torso, however, momentarily constricting his breathing. His chest pushed relentlessly outward, growing rounder and fuller by the second, and his back pulled the fabric in the opposite direction giving a nobility to his stature. Ultimately it caught up, providing the contour for his heavy set of pecs and fitting perfectly taut along the jutting lats. It seemed to fare better with his quads and calves, even though they were ballooning at an equally dizzying rate. His legs rubbed together as he finally stood again and took a few steps towards Andy. “What the hell just happened?” Chad asked, still in shock. “What, you don’t like it?” Andy said. Andy couldn’t help but appreciate the results of his work. He guided his hands across the powerful chest and down the row of abdominals leading to thick, meaty quads. He kind of regretted not making the fur softer than it already was; some of the changes were hidden behind the thickness of it. Even still, he realized he had overcorrected (perhaps on purpose), and Chad was a little larger and better defined than he had been before his injury. Chad attempted to answer the question, but before he got his first word out the second part of the spell had started to take effect. The warmth that began in his groin intensified to a sensation near orgasm, his head flaring and pre leaking from his slit. His eyes, though not visible to Andy, began to roll back in his head and he fell to his knees from the overwhelming pleasure. It was a few minutes before Chad came back to his senses. Andy was not really in a rush to help him, either. Watching this indomitable stud he had created fall to his knees as the result of his work had him more than a little hard. Chad then lifted his head and gave Andy that lusty look that the costume had been designed for. Andy froze in anticipation. They held eye contact for what seemed like minutes before Chad rushed in on Andy and immediately began to disrobe him between grinding sessions. “How does your back feel?” Andy asked. Chad didn’t have time for questions like that. He was too busy running his claws across Andy’s back and humping him vigorously. The spell had given him some prehensile control over his tail, and he used it to wrap around Andy’s waist and rub it along his crotch. He then threw Andy down on the couch, noticing for the first time the newfound strength that had been missing for so long. And he relished in it. Andy was now his plaything, a vessel to shove his cock into anytime he wanted. The look on Andy’s face was still a little smug, though, as far as Chad was concerned. That wouldn’t do. Chad picked him up from under his legs, shoving him into the wall by the fireplace. They hadn’t done this position since the injury, and now Andy felt like a feather in his burly arms. He started to frot against Andy through the suit, the firmness of his cock apparent to Andy’s bare skin even through the fabric. After he couldn’t take it any longer, Chad slipped his dick through the opening in the crotch. His head pressed gently against Andy’s hole as it begged for release from the confines of the suit. “You’re going to cum soon if you keep going at this rate,” Andy advised. Chad didn’t seem to be paying much attention. “Alright then, you asked for it. Heel, boy.” Chad felt something like a rope slide around his wrists, shoulders, legs, and ankles, lightly at first and then just shy of painful. He couldn’t see anything physically binding him, but he guessed that Andy had constricted the suit at those points to allow control over Chad’s motions. Andy descended to the floor as Chad’s wrists drew closer to his ankles, and by the time his feet hit the ground Chad was already hogtied with his knees on the floor. “Let’s just take this nice and slow, okay?” Chad stared intently at Andy already knowing full well he could not disagree. He was using the full strength of his new body to pull against the binds to no avail. The more he flexed the tighter the binds became, and it was only making him harder. “I added that command in as a precaution in case you got a little too frisky, but I think I like you better this way. It reminds you who’s really in control here…” Andy trailed off. Chad’s cock still stuck out of his suit, full mast and dripping with pre. Andy knelt down gently and worked the tip of his tongue across his slit, slowly lapping up the sweet fluid that flowed steadily down his shaft. He carefully brought his lips down to meet the head as his tongue slid further down the shaft until his entire head was held inside Andy’s mouth. His tongue explored fluted edges of the expanding head, which always grew dramatically as he approached orgasm. Chad still held every muscle in tense opposition to the binds, starting to moan involuntarily as Andy held him constantly on edge. It might have been a byproduct of the spell, the fact that he was bound, or just from the absence of the pain that had plagued him, but the motion of Andy’s tongue incited more erogenous sensation than he could recall ever experiencing. All of his conscious thoughts were absorbed in the ecstasy of that moment. Andy pulled his mouth off of Chad’s dick, making a popping sound as his lips slid over the edges of the head. Now that Andy had released him from his blissful stupor, Chad slid slowly back into reality. He managed to angle his head so that he could look down at his cock, still pulsing, and noticed that it had not grown to match the rest of him. With some clarity finally returning to his thoughts, he managed to blurt out his burning question. “Andy, why didn’t you make me any bigger down there?” “Christ, aren’t you big enough?” Andy replied. Chad started to whimper in protest. What good was this body if it didn’t have the cock to match? Andy couldn’t help but smile at the behemoth who knelt entangled before him, begging him for more. “Hold on,” Andy said, flicking Chad’s cock hard with his middle finger on his way to emphasize his helplessness. Andy returned a few minutes later with a large, leather-bound book, leafing through the pages. Chad was still in binds, fully erect, and as far as Andy could tell still growing. Andy flipped through the pages of his tome looking for the addition to the spell that he needed, meanwhile allowing Chad to stand briefly before binding him again to a nearby chair. Ergonomics were important, after all. Once he found the incantation he was looking for, he studied it momentarily and began to recite it softly in the direction of the suit. The musical tones that escaped his lips were low and guttural, like a toad attempting a song in bass. The hair on the suit stood up as Andy made the changes to his previous spell. Within the first few notes, Chad’s dick started to throb with greater fervor than he thought possible. Each pulse left his dick just a little bit harder, thicker, longer, larger. The massive inflation of his already gigantic cock was almost painful, but Chad watched in ignorance of this as his dick grew larger by the second. “Happy?” Andy inquired after Chad’s cock had stopped growing. If Andy had to guess, it had gained about a third of its original size. Chad just stared at Andy through his lusty panda eyes. The renewed pre flowing exuberantly down his shaft like a small stream answered his question for him. Andy grabbed Chad by his joystick and started again where he had left off, realizing that his fingers barely fit around the shaft. Andy could feel Chad’s urethra pumping in his hands as the pre continued to flow. A few precursory strokes were followed with an attempt at fitting the massive rod in his mouth, but Andy was having some difficulty even fitting the head in. He had probably made Chad a little too large, even if Chad was too lost in ecstasy to recognize it. Andy made a mental note of things to change for the next time around. Without warning, Chad exploded into Andy’s mouth. While Andy did his best to swallow all of it, the force of his spray was augmented by the spell and the greater part of Chad’s cum spilled out through his lips, leaking back down onto Chad’s cock and groin. After gently removing his mouth from Chad’s head, Andy licked his lips. Slowly Chad’s convulsions died down and the semen stopped flowing. Andy and took a minute to clean himself up while he admired his handiwork. Chad’s body seemed as though it had not entirely finished growing, and even though he was still snugly bound Andy enjoyed watching his muscles tense as he resisted in futility. Meanwhile Chad had not quite finished his ejaculation, and shot a few extra spurts across Andy’s face. Andy chuckled a bit. The cum he was wiping off his nose and chin was nothing compared to the volume that ran down Chad’s shaft and soaked his groin. Andy took a few seconds to take in the whole scene, and then decided it was time to come to a close. “Kookaburra,” he whispered softly into Chad’s ear, citing the trigger word to inactivate the spell. Chad was perhaps too incapacitated to notice the changes, but Andy watched as he returned to his previous size, his cock the only feature that remained hard and proud as it returned to its former stature. His arms deflated, his chest sank, and his back shrank as the magic that had sustained his gargantuan body returned to the suit. Chad came back to his senses right around the end of the transformation. He removed the panda head, still reeling from the orgasm. Andy kissed him gently, the taste of Chad’s cum still fresh on his lips. “When can we do that again?” he asked. “Any time you like, big guy,” Andy said.
  25. The Halloween Party to End All Halloween Parties: Part 1 “Mr. Street? Mr. Peters will see you now." A handsome young Thai looking man in a simple polo shirt from the reception desk told me this, with a warm smile. I looked around the nondescript waiting room. Getting here had taken me considerable time and resources. This was no average office. Only the elite of the elite could get here. Inside the cozy den office with plush furniture and leather seats was a young man around my own age wearing a suit and who held an unlit cigar in his hand. He exuded confidence. "Mr. Street. I'm Peters." No first name, he noted. "You can call me Joe." "Joe it is. So, what can I do for you, Joe? Your request sounded...a bit inventive." He started to look through some papers I assumed was my new file. I sat down opposite him. "I want a potion that will turn people into their Halloween costumes. I need something that will force them to come if they get an invitation and I need a way of transforming them from straight to gay as well." "That is a very tall order. There would, of course, be stipulations." "Of course." "We would control the costumes, approve which ones get used and which don't. We don't do all forms of transformation. We at the Male Transformation League, or MTL for short, are the cream of the crop of magical experts in this field. You will not find anyone outside this office who can even begin to attempt such a feat. First of all, we don't like male to female stuff. That's a different union." "Gotcha. That's okay." "Second, we don't do anything...too disfiguring. Our clients needs can be met by many different specialists we have on call. We aren't willing to do anything demon related for reasons that I will not go into. Likewise, no zombie, ghost, vampire, or anything related to the undead. Now, mental transformation is tricky. If you have say, a historical transformation, it would require explanation afterwards. Are you looking for...permanent transformation?" "Yes," I said nervously. "That will require significantly more capital." "My father is quite wealthy. I would require a spell leaving me in charge of the family fortune somehow, so that I could assure you payment. We're worth-" "We know what you're worth, Mr. Street. Believe me." He cut me off. Peters acted much older and more authoritative than most men his age. If he was really young, I thought suddenly. Who knew how old he was? We went over my list. He edited it down. “Would you care for a cigar, Mr. Street?” “I don’t smoke.” “Please, I insist. Most of us here are cigar smokers and I weave spells into my special blend. This will make you immune to the negative effects of smoking for the rest of your life. There’s a lot we don’t share with common folk, you see, and marketing magic is…very tricky. You can’t shove it out of a factory, it has to be carefully tailored. Hence why we cater only to a select few.” He lit my cigar and I found myself under his spell, smoking for the first time and loving it. I found myself taking a sadistic joy in my cigar. He must have wanted this, I thought. I’ve never wanted to smoke before, ever. I smiled in spite of myself with eagerness. "This time of year is busy for us. I'm going to assign you multiple staff members, who usually work Halloween. One of them exclusively. His name is Hezekiah Graves. Born in the winter of 1823. I think he'd be willing to take this one on." I swallowed nervously and nodded. We worked out a deal and shook hands. I was led outside to the magical hallway from which I’d come. I glanced outside the window. A tropical beach halfway around the world greeted my eyes, and a few parrots nested in a jungle tree just outside the window. “Unbelievable.” I walked out the door I was shown and found myself in an alleyway outside an abandoned brick building on the outskirts of the town I lived in, and it was the middle of the night. I made haste to make preparations and thought about the specifics. I continued smoking my cigar and the smoke drifted up into the streetlights and the tree leaves turning orange from their pale ghostly green. I had provided a list of names (I was only allowed a certain number) and the next day woke up feeling refreshed and ready to take this on. Each and every name would be…a new man by the time Halloween arrived. Halloween. The day came and I was giddy. Trick or treaters started to filter out of schools and across neighborhoods. I had candy set up at five in pumpkin bowls and stood outside my rather large house rental. Well, mansion really. From the Victorian age. I was of course in the best neighborhood in my college town. I could have shared my 8 bedroom house, but I was waiting to groom the right housemates. My father went along with it because really, our family can do as it likes without worrying about things like money. After trick or treat time ended, the party started in earnest. At 8’o clock the guests started to show up. I had a full bar ready, with beer, wine, hard liquor and cigar humidors. I had music, and decorations. I had spent a week turning the house into the front of the house into a perfectly campy college Halloween party setting, with cheesy designs and nothing actually scary, just a few store bought ghosts and spiderwebs out front. All of the invitations had been laced with an instruction to come, and to come alone. No girlfriends or wives, no mothers or sisters. This was an all male event for mostly straight men. They were to tell their SO’s they were up to some prank mischief and not to ask questions. Brock was the first to arrive. A large, blond meathead with no talent for anything but football and maybe had a future career as a meathead high school football coach. All of my lovelies were sent magical instructions to not bring a costume. Those would be provided for them. “Am I the first one here, man?” “You’re a bit early. Everyone should be here by 9.” “Nice. So when do the hookers get here?” I should mention at this point the invitations would also show their invitees exactly what they would want to read. Hookers, drugs, threeways with cheerleaders brought in from other schools, Russian models looking for American husbands, or kinky shit. If they thought it, that is what they believed they were going to get. Their fantasy. Well, there were no hookers or drugs or threeways with cheerleaders. This night would be about MY fantasies. He just didn’t know it yet. “I’m sure you’ll find yourself in more enjoyment you can possibly imagine in just a few short hours,” I told him. He smiled in wonder, looking around the mansion with its 30 ft ceiling and grand staircases. “This place is fucking sick!” Two other jocks arrived. Neither with costumes. They all knew each other and started to talk. One asked about costumes. I told him those would be provided when everyone arrived. As the hour grew, we had some of the nerd contingency arrive. A gaggle of homely, acne ridden, RPG playing, chemistry studying little know it alls. A few of them were already gay, including at least one of the jocks. The others were straight as an arrow. We had an evenly matched group number. 13 short, weaker men who did little socializing and 13 alpha males, the cream of the crop of the university’s football, lacrosse, and wrestling teams. As the groups began to mingle, both were strangely noticing that there were no “in between” groups. I made sure to introduce myself to everyone and assured them I would explain why they’d been invited. Most of them knew a few other people at the least, and many had curious looks on their faces but held back at my request. Still, I heard mutters of “this is weird” and “why are we even at this place?” I looked at myself, a dapper 19 year old with neat shiny auburn brown hair, dressed in an expensive black tux with an orange tiger lily in the lapel. You know, for effect. I tapped my glass once everyone had arrived and waited for silence. Show time. “Thank you all for coming on time to the estate. This is an unusual party you will be coming into tonight. The fact is, I have an affinity for football and lacrosse and am fans of many of you I invited tonight. My family is very wealthy and we spend quite a lot of money on the school’s athletics program, so we sometimes invite the more prominent athlete’s to our more exclusive events.” Some of the jocks exchanged looks of pride and nodded in understanding. Yeah, that’s us, they thought. We are the fucking best here. No one in school comes close to us. Our size, our stature, our masculine gifts. “Likewise, those of you on academic scholarship have all benefitted from the labs my family has purchased for the school and the internships we have provided the top students in the sciences.” Several of the reed-thin, glasses wearing, poorly dressed or overly fat manchildren began to exchange quietly excited whispers. “But I assure you, my family only wants to make sure that we keep excellent communication with the best students from either end, whether it’s academics or athletics to ensure that our investment is a sound one. Tonight will be a thank you for all of your hard work and dedication. And it will provide a possible window to your future…” I said mysteriously, letting that one hang. “With no further adieu, I present you with your costumes. Changing rooms are behind me. Please put the costume chosen for you on, each person has had one exclusively selected by me, so no trading. Not if you want your treats,” I smiled. I heard whispers about hookers. Liveried servants (agents of the Male Transformation League in disguise) marched out with boxes for each “candidate”. The jocks pored through theirs. Some laughed. Some didn’t. I didn’t care what their reaction was because the magic compelled them to put on the costume no matter what they wanted. Jocks and nerds alike filtered into the back room which was partitioned with foldout wooden screens. I peeked inside as I caught a glimpse of jock muscle and clothes being tossed aside for their new, very expensive new personas. Once everyone was dressed, some were embarrassed and some were having fun. In particular a nerd named Lyle who was dressed in a cop uniform. His thick glasses and pipe cleaner arms were proof he had to be in a costume, not to mention his goofy grin. Lyle was gay but he didn’t know I knew. I knew so much about all of them. I smiled and sipped my wine. It smelled particularly heavenly tonight. In the adjacent dining room, tables had been set up but no chairs. Food lined the way and a DJ played music as the fellas waited for their “entertainment”. “Enjoy the music, guys. Your…entertainment will be here shortly.” A few more nerds and jocks trickled in. On the jocks side, some particular favorites included Nick, who was dressed as a biker, with leather vest and jacket, fake tats the servants had helped to apply, complete with a bandana and a fake gut that was nothing more than Styrofoam. Another was a minotaur, with cheesy horns, and shaggy mane. One was an orc named Bud roughly the same design as Shrek. We also had one jock in a little boy’s sailor suit from the 50s, which he was none too happy about. Almost all of the jock costumes reflected not their physiques, but rather a lessened stature. When Olaf came out as a gay muscled slut, complete with a collar and wearing a tight mesh shirt and see through crotch with assless chaps, the fellas all started to laugh. “What the FUCK, man?” “Dude, don’t ask. I’m only here for the cheerleaders. If I get to hobnob with a billionaire later, I’ll fucking dress up as gay or whatever. I don’t fucking care.” “Well you look REALLY fucking gay,” said Charles, who was dressed in a redneck outfit, complete with overalls, giant straw hat, and plastic pitchfork. His pectorals were very real and large and shone with grease. “Hey, what’s Chad supposed to be?” asked Larry, who was the resident orc. “I know I’m supposed to be Shrek but what the fuck are you?” “I’m a were-dog, they said. Half man half dog, like uh, that guy in Spaceballs.” “Oh, okay I get it.” Neither one commented on the rather realistic looking Doberman mask not looking anything like John Candy’s silly makeup. It took a while for them to stop laughing at the gay submissive costume that Olaf was wearing, but when Calbert, a 6’6” black football player who was one of the most muscled men in school, stepped out in his pink fairy costume, the room erupted into laugher. Calbert was a good sport, he danced on twinkle toes for the laughs and then grinned. “Nobody better say anything, now where’s the ladies?” “Right before us!” Kris said. He was dressed as a prisoner, in a bright orange jumpsuit. “What are you supposed to be?” Calbert asked Ross. “Minotaur!” “And what the hell are you, Brett?” “I’m a dwarf! Isn’t it obvious?” Brett grinned. He had a good sense of humor, too. His stature surpassed that of Calbert. He was 6’8” and approached 280 lbs of muscle as of last week. He carried a giant oversized club with him, and wore a Viking like helmet with beard. “Oh, I see. It’s like that,” Calbert said in his deep voice. Then he looked across the room. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?” “You’re telling us. It’s weird, right? Jocks usually get the cool costumes,” Evan said. He was wearing a burlap shirt and leather pants and sandals, and he was carrying a tray for some reason. “What are you?” “I’m a Roman senator, I think. See, they gave me Roman coins.” He had them in a satchel at his side. “There’s other cool stuff in here, like Roman writing I don’t understand and a necklace.” “You look more like 12 Years a Slave, motherfucker.” “Hey yeah, maybe you’re a Roman slave.” “I’m a slave only to love, gentlemen. If a girl with hot tits comes in soon, I’m her fucking slave tonight, so watch out.” “But seriously, why do the geeks have all the good costumes?” Bud asked. He was wearing an oversized child’s sailor suit, and very unhappy about it. But then he could have gotten the fairy costume, he reasoned to himself. ** Across the room the nerds had gathered in clusters. It was a big drawing room filled with tables of food and large sofas, usually antiques. A few leather armchairs adorned the room, and paintings that looked a hundred years old of what people assumed were the former proprietors of the house. Apart from Lyle, who was as gangly as you could get, dressed in his cop blues, there was Gavin, who looked like he was 12 and fresh out of junior high but was in fact 18. He was a quarter Hispanic and had curly brown hair and looked more like a tanned Caucasian boy. There was Lucas, also small and wearing glasses, with flat light brown honey colored hair, dressed as a football player. There was Cory, who with his incredibly flat chest could barely keep up even his costumed Roman gladiator outfit, complete with giant plastic sword. There was Lynn, who hated his name, and had to tell everyone what his costume was. They just gave him a wife beater shirt and a necklace and told him he was a bouncer. He wore a puffy muscle suit that was obviously fake and he told several people he felt embarrassed wearing it and just wanted to go home. He had a mop of curly hair, and an ample gut and was often depressed over it. He was a loner and didn’t like to communicate with others outside of role playing games. There was Kip, who was a total history geek and he was overjoyed he got to wear a Steampunk Victorian gentleman’s outfit, complete with fake mustache, vermillion suit, and jeweled cufflinks, not to mention a bowtie and vest. “None of us are talking with the jocks,” Kip noted. “That’s because none of us have talked with them very much before. It’s weird. No one I know outside of you guys is here. It’s just jocks and D&D gamer group people.” Lyle said. “Actually, I don’t know those guys,” Lynn said, pointing to a group of other nerds. Lyle introduced him to Andy, who was a new transfer student and looked like a little boy dressed as a rodeo cowboy. Again, puberty had missed this one. He had a clean, pretty freckled Irish face and red hair. His friend was his cousin, named Owen and he was a thin Moby-ish looking dude with a shaved head and thin, and wore a nose ring which wasn’t part of his costume, which he explained was a prison guard. Most of them didn’t know Carl, who Gavin knew, and that was because he mostly didn’t game. He was dressed as Popeye, complete with fake huge forearms and a sailor suit and a can of spinach for a prop. Damon, Erik, and Benjamin were the others that didn’t game. Damon was dressed in a cream suit and broad hat, an older 30’s style which he explained made him a gangster. He even had an old copy of a revolver at his side. Erik was dressed like Aladdin, with a purple vest and a turban, and fat on top of that. His ratty, long greasy hair reminded you of a young Penn Gillette if he had been even more obese before his weight loss. And Benjamin had some hardcore leather jacket on which dwarfed him. He was only 5’6” and could be described as “delicate” with a rather effeminate voice and dark hair grown a little too long around. He was pissed and said he felt like someone was playing a prank on all of them. He was the only other geek there that was at least openly gay and he complained to Lyle about it. “Dude, someone has me dressed as Tom of Finland!” “Dude, you look great. Who’s Tom?” “Look. Ugh. Something is wrong here, I can’t quite put my finger on it. I keep wanting to leave but then I stay.” “Maybe you can’t wait to get some of that sweet pussy later.” Benjamin looked at him with annoyance. “There’s something…wrong about all this. Why do I have this thing?” He showed off his cat-o-nine tails. “I dunno, but this guy’s parents are billionaires so I say suck up to him and then we’ll leave early, okay?” “Alright. I guess. The last people to enter the room were Lance, Amar, and Dane. Dane was obviously a stereotypical nerd. Even though he was captain of the football team, a practical god and model, he had been “nerded up” with gelled hair, oversized glasses, a bow tie, a pocket protector, and a couple of physics books he carried around with him. “You have gotta be fucking kidding me. Really?” Lucas asked, his football uniform unsuccessfully filled out by his meager frame. Dane was about twice as big as him.