muscledrain

m/m The Halloween Party to End All Halloween Parties: Part 1

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muscledrain

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 athletes 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 Larry roughly the same design as World of Warcraft. We also had one jock in a little boy’s sailor suit from the 50s, which he was none too happy about, complete with an oversized novelty cap with a ribbon. 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!” Ross replied

Ross 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. “Probably because I’m so horny,” he said with great satisfaction in his voice.

“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 had curly brown hair and looked a little bit like David Moscow who played Josh Baskins from Big. 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.

“None of us are talking with the jocks,” Ben 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, Eric, 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. Eric 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 Dan. Dan 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. Dan was about twice as big as him. Was this someone’s idea of a joke?

“Rich people are so fucking weird, why is that one guy dressed like a dog?”

“You guys aren’t mingling!” Joe Street said in his tuxedo. “I am going to bring you all over to mingle. Come along, everyone! Now that we are all here, let’s make our way into the next room. It has a bit more festive appearance!”

They walked out of the large room and into another. It was like going inside a museum, Lyle thought. Everything was so grand and big and everyone was now in the same narrow passage as they wound through the house following Joe. Servants dressed up for the part ushered them in if they went the wrong way. The house on this end was darker, lit only by orange candles in sconces. Finally they reached a regal dining hall, lit only by candles. Finally they were to dine.

Servants brought out more than just the chips and vegetable platters from the previous room. There was roast beef and pork chops, pasta, and all sorts of gothic sculptures filled the room, all lit rather eerily in soft orange tones. Jack-o-lanterns grinned from every corner of the room. All sorts of fall themed foods from sweet potatoes to turnips and carrots, salads and rice that melted in your mouth alongside more gourmet salmon and coconut shrimp. Everyone knew this kind of spread and presentation took a pretty penny and they weren’t sure why they were seated next to each other the way they were, but the seating arrangement was pre-made. It was nerd-jock-nerd-jock all the way around the long table. Joe sat at the front on a chair that resembled a throne.

“Excuse me, sir. We’re a little bit confused by our costumes.”

“Yeah, like, how did you get them? These are our clothes.”

“Ah, yes, I meant to tell you about those. Amar and Lance are roommates and they get along quite famously, according to Lance here. But Amar is wearing Lance’s lacrosse uniform and Lance is wearing Amar’s math league sweater.

“But how did you get them,” Amar asked. He was a very small Indian boy around the age of 16 who was easily the smallest one there. He only reached a height of about 5 feet 1 inch. He had worked his way to America by being a math genius, but his childhood had been very poor. Lance looked at him like a little brother.

“I cannot reveal my secrets,” Joe said. “But I can tell you to have fun. Let’s dig in, everyone. In a few hours the real entertainment arrives. In the meantime, I have a string quartet here. And I do ask that you not take off your costumes until that time.”

 

As certain jocks struggled with their costumes and exchanged annoyed glances, namely Nick’s Styrofoam biker gut and Ross’s minotaur outfit, not to mention Larry’s oversized orc outfit with its big fur cloak that for some reason Lyle hadn’t noticed before. Gavin was also having problems with his knight costume. He had a giant helmet over his head.

“Excuse me, can I take my helmet off.”

“Not if you want another scholarship to cancel out that loan you took to get you through the next year. I’m willing to do that, but wear the helmet,” Joe said. “Same goes for anyone else having any financial difficulty this year, which is really most of you. I mean you’re doing alright for the time being but almost all of you could use some extra educational benefits and I hope to provide some, but only if you all play along. For me. I love Halloween, and it’s something I rarely got to partake in growing up at home. Father was always saying it was a commoner’s holiday and Mother didn’t care for it. But me? It’s my very favorite day.”

“Um, okay. I guess I can eat through the visor.”

“Thattaboy!”

Something nagged at Benjamin’s mind still. He was noticing things around the table. Larry’s orc costume seemed rather silly but he hadn’t been wearing face paint before. No one else noticed this. He tried to whisper to Lyle or Damon but they were both too far apart for him to do so above the din. All of the jocks were talking and shoveling food in their mouths and eventually tried to make small talk with the geeks. Benjamin in his leather cap and heavy leather jacket had a sinking feeling. All of this felt really, really wrong somehow. Like a setup, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He wanted to leave. He was a natural loner and skeptic, but he also was very good at avoiding people he thought had secret motives and this place just screamed “secret motives.” His freaked out expression eventually caught the eye of Chad the Dogboy.

“What’s rup, bro?”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Rut’s cute?”

“Nothing. So are you enjoying all this?”

“Yeah, it’s really something! I can’t rait to tell all my riends about it! Raww” Chad scratched at his head with his paw that he hadn’t taken off. He was managing to eat by grabbing his spoon with both “paws” until he gave up and just ate directly off his plate. Several jocks laughed.

“Hey, when in Rome, right?” Evan the Roman senator or possibly slave said, with an exaggerated shrug of his arms.

“Here, here!” Cory said next to him in his centurion gear. Evan was so much more muscled than Evan it didn’t seem…right. It’s like someone decided to purposefully switch the costumes that would have made the most sense.

Benjamin narrowed his eyes and studied the table back and forth.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Kris the orange jumpsuited prisoner said, stabbing about four slices of beef, the last on the platter and giving Dan the fake nerd a deathglare.

“Okay, dude. Geez, it’s like you’ve never eaten before.”

“I just know what’s mine! You stick to your own plate, motherfucker!” Kris threatened.

“Oh, I get it, guys! Kris is acting like a prisoner.” Dan laughed. Dan laughed in a really annoying way and began snorting water out of his nose. He drew the attention of several people down the row who thought he was play acting like he was a character from Revenge of the Nerds. He was one of the biggest guys at the table but he was hunching his arms between his legs in a very un-football captain like way. He was not really comfortable in his muscled body, he thought suddenly. He felt like he should be the one everyone was laughing at for comic relief, even though he’d never been very funny before. He was relieved when people laughed with him as he smiled an innocent, almost too innocent sheepish grin.

Lyle suddenly felt like he could eat a horse and started to pile on his mashed potatoes and beef. Servants brought more food. Rolls and fancy hors d’oevres. His arms swelled against his costume. At first he had thought it was too big for him, but he guessed Joe did a better job at finding a cop shirt his size, he thought. His black cop shirt and gold star badge shone with eerie realism. Hadn’t he been wearing a blue cop shirt, really cheesy? He shrugged. Guess it didn’t matter.

Down the table, Bud was remaining rather silent. His sailor getup was demeaning and he was just waiting until the girls got there. This whole thing seemed fucking gay to him. Was this guy a fag? Probably, but he was a rich fag, so he would be good unless the fag made a move on him, and then he’d break his legs.

“This is kinda weird, isn’t it?” Lucas asked next to him. Lucas was on the end and sitting opposite of Calbert the fairy and next to Bud, so they were the only ones he could talk to.

“You’re telling me. Do I look like a fairy to you?”

“Only every day on the field.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sailor Moon. With your ratty ass hat.”

“None of this makes sense. None of this adds up.”

“Free food always adds up. You’ve been packing it away all night so far. Goddamn you eat a lot for a little guy.”

“Thanks. I’m unusually hungry.”

“You’re not touching your plate.”

“Neither are you.” Calbert said to Bud.

“I’m not hungry. I’m too horny to be hungry. I haven’t had sex in like two whole days.”

“You poor thing. How do you live?” Lucas quipped, scratching at his now profuse arm hair. Wait, had he always had arm hair? There was… a lot of it. I mean, sure he hadn’t had it when he was a kid but when puberty hit, it had given him a pretty nice coating all over. He absentmindedly touched the hairs sticking out of his chest above the football jersey.

At least he thought so…he frowned in confusion and then asked Bud if he was going to eat his steak.

“Fucking take it. I’m not hungry at all.”

 

Joe surveyed the table. The orc’s skin was full lime green now. Carl, wearing his Popeye uniform had managed to go from a cheap five dollar knockoff to an actual very real Navy uniform and cap. No one had seemed to notice. Joe smiled, trying to contain his giddiness. Gavin was slightly taller, but it was hard to tell with his knight costume. Lyle’s costume was tighter. Lyle also looked slightly older. The normally smooth faced boy had the beginnings of a cop mustache growing in. The Romans were looking a tiny bit different. Cory’s arms were slightly bigger in his centurion outfit and Charles seemed slightly smaller in his hick outfit, filthy tattered clothes and straw hat aside. Everyone at the table seemed to be almost…glowing with happiness or maybe that was just Joe’s imagination.
 

Another ten minutes went by. Lance and Amar sat on either side of him. Lance seemed bored and Amar seemed energized as he talked with the submissively dressed Olaf in his mesh shirt. Was he taller? He definitely seemed to be so. Joe felt his cock get hard. Another ten minutes went by and he glanced casually up and down the way. Kris the prisoner now had a shaved head where he had hair before, and his frame seemed diminished. Owen the prison guard was animatedly talking with Damon the nerd gangster. Owen’s face seemed to have aged a bit. The 20 year old looked like he had graduated and he seemed to have gained a tiny bit of fat around his face. He looked more like 25 and had a definite five o’clock shadow that he lacked before. His Moby-ish looks had disappeared. He just seemed to have a bigger face, more…masculine…Joe noticed the way he talked now was more confident. Kris the prisoner, just across from him, looked unnecessarily nervous and kept darting his eyes back and forth as if to plan an escape.

I’ll have to keep an eye on him, Joe thought.

As the meal ended with desserts, Benjamin ran his hand through the back of his hair and couldn’t find it. He stopped cold, and felt gingerly underneath his leather daddy cap. It was gone. He had a buzz cut. Didn’t he always have a buzz cut? No, his friends had just made fun of him the other day for his greasy hair! They had told him to cut it! But he always kept it neat. Neat and clean, like a real man, he thought.

Nick the would be biker burped and patted his ample gut, which upon slapping it he found, made the same sound as a regular gut would, like his uncle had. Annoyed, he tried to take the Styrofoam half sphere out only to find that it was just his normal regular old gut. Why would he even need Styrofoam? There was plenty of him to go around.

Larry the orc, not to be outdone, let out a long belch and declared in a Scottish accent to have the best burp in the land. What no one seemed to register were some rather large teeth beginning to poke up around his mouth. His normally cut and muscular frame was still large but seemed added onto somehow. As if he had gotten more bulky. Larry nodded and arched his eyebrows over to Damon, who was looking really nicely tanned. Much more so than anyone at the table and he felt very cool in his cream colored suit. He leaned back and declared he could go for a cigar right about now. Some laughed because they thought he was kidding. Others like Nick the biker and surprisingly Carl in his Popeye getup mumbled they could really use one as well.

Carl no longer had plastic showing. His forearms and biceps were positively enormous. Forearm training had to be one of the most difficult but for a man of Carl’s stature it was no problem. As he ate, no one noticed him grow taller. He also lost all of his hair as it receded underneath his sailor cap. His shirt filled out with muscle slowly as his mouth burned for the pipe he kept in his shirt pocket, along with a small tin he couldn’t wait to smoke.

“Just so you gentlemen know, I allow smoking after meals in the house,” Joe declared.

“Thank God,” Carl said, and brought out his pipe and tobacco and rolled a plug in expertly before lighting up, puffing and releasing aromatic plumes. His jaw moved back and forth and no one noticed that his jaw actually got bigger with each puff, slightly bigger and bigger until it was huge. He grinned mischievously and chomped on his pipe as he chatted up with Charles in his redneck farmer outfit, who nobody had been looking at. He looked like he had shrunk considerably and he strained to look over the food at his new friend in the Popeye getup. God, he was so hot, he thought. He looked like a carbon copy of Popeye! Wish I was that tall, the formerly towering football star thought. At only 5’4” he was probably one of the shortest ones here, and he definitely jealous of anyone that could pull off that kind of character look! Growing up on a farm hadn’t helped him at all to become any kind of muscular stud. In fact, things had always been hard for his family and getting the right amount of food had always been a struggle. Charles…no…that wasn’t right…Chuck, knew that he would never have the stature of other men but he could certainly be a congenial farmer’s son.

Joe called the room to attention. They were to proceed to the dancehall. The adjacent room’s door opened behind him and a blue neon light seeped out along with dry ice fog that billowed out as everyone stood up.

Benjamin felt his blood run cold.

Everyone was different heights than they were before!

It wasn’t possible but it was possible. Some were the same, like Larry the Orc and Owen the prison guard had been of the same height before but the old Owen was a Moby lookalike and this one looked like Owen’s muscular dad had taken his place.

Lynn had a full moon face. He was a big fat guy with no trace of facial hair. His hair was repulsively long, running in light brown-blond waves down past his shoulders. Though his costume was somewhat simple, just a wife beater and a chain, something was happening with him. As Ben watched, fixated, Lynn ran his hands through his hair. He had very effeminate mannerisms and it would be shocking if he wasn’t gay. But then something shifted somehow. He was talking to someone, and when he turned his face back, it looked…impossibly thinner. And his hair was…getting shorter. His hair, as impossible as it may seem, was receding inside his head. Almost as if someone was winding it back in. Lynn animatedly talked about something. Whereas before he had looked like a gay, teenage version of Meat Loaf, now he was losing weight rapidly. And as his hair receded to six inches, five, four, three, two, and then a buzz cut, his big moon-face dwindled like a deflating balloon. A tuft of chest hair, a thick mat, suddenly grew out, like a time lapse motion film of plants growing in the middle of a desert. A few curls quickly became a furry mat. He had stopped batting and rolling his eyes and making effeminate, dramatic gestures with his hands. Almost as if he’d settled into his new body as it transitioned, he became more calm and a sly smile crept over his face, as facial hair grew in for the first time, at first a peach fuzz and then spreading like a time lapse into a sandpaper-textured, graphite gray stubble which covered his now healthy looking face. But his eyes still retained a bit of their glint. Ben shook his head.

Maybe I’m hallucinating?

Lyle had filled out his black cop uniform and was wearing a policeman’s walkie talkie. And he had a full mustache he didn’t have before. Everyone was ushered forward. Benjamin looked down at a lady servant dressed in Victorian livery.

“This way, sir, if you please.”

“Oh, right. He got up. He felt dizzy. His legs seemed…longer. It wasn’t possible but he knew instantly it had to be. He was taller. He had to be at least six feet now, judging by how much taller he was than Joe, who was taller than him by a few inches when he first came in.

He didn’t want to know where this was going but he eased his mind. Because he already knew. He had deduced it. No one else could see through whatever was happening here. But he could.

Amar was still shorter than Lance but he had definitely grown. The former Indian short stock had piled up to a decent 5’11” and Lance had shrunk down to about 6’1” meaning they were only a few inches apart. It looked like Amar had bulked and Lance had reduced.

“That was a great meal, man.”

“I know,” Lance said. “For real. What a weird night, though.” He patted Amar on the shoulder and looked at him funny.

“What?”

“Nothing, just felt like something was off.”

“Maybe you need a beer, man!” Amar said, in an uncharacteristically brolike way, and lacking his accent in lieu of a completely Americanized English.”

“Yes, you are most right,” Lance said, in all his blond glory, sounding oddly Indian.

Benjamin walked slowly, letting everyone go before him. Erik and Lynn had been sitting on the same side as him but too far down for him to notice before that Lynn the Bouncer no longer had fake muscles, but rather real ones. He was about the same height but now his stride was confident and his wife beater clung to his enormous rock hard pectorals, which were the size of hams, and they were still inflating, massing in size as they walked, a spiraling of spidersilk-fine ink threads bloomed over them, only to be filled in with a few years worth of tats. His arms looked equally impressive and he was one of the most muscled men in the room. As he was standing behind Lynn, staring as his hair receded within a few seconds and male pattern baldness reached up over the man’s head in fast forward, his now-wide alpha male back moved up incrementally, and impossibly he heard the man growing, and watched from just a few inches away as Lynn grew taller than himself until Ben was staring at his lower back. The new Lynn could see over most people’s heads now at a fine height of 6’4”.

“Lynn. Hey, Lynn?” He felt his own voice strangle in his throat. It wasn’t his voice. It was someone else’s. A much older man’s voice coming out of his twentysomething frame.

Lynn turned around. He looked to be around 35 to 40 now.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? Don’t call me that. Everyone just calls me Pops,” Lynn-now-Pops said, clapping him on the shoulder with his meaty fist and grinning. He was completely bald now and his face coated with fine graphite colored stubble. The flat silvery necklace was lifted up by his enormous pectorals.

Erik, dressed in his Aladdin turban and vest looked different as well. His long ratty hair had turned jet black, neatly coifed and shortened into a slick, neat hairstyle in an instant. It happened quickly, as quick as someone sneezing, In literally a flash in front of Ben’s eyes. Ben, not Benjamin he thought. Erik’s skin had turned a lighter color of caramel and he wore a light goatee now, and he no longer had a gut. The former balloon of fat had melted away and now only a little flab could be seen. His arms took on more muscle in the dim light.

Inside the dancehall was a lot of blue light, dry ice fog, a fully stocked bar and humidors lay on glossy black tabled with refined restaurant booths lining the sides of the walls. In the fog, Ben saw Erik’s muscles twist and change and the next time he saw Erik after swirling fog let him do so, he had to look up again, at a mountain of a Turkish bodybuilder, olive skinned and fully bearded. The new Erik had to be 6’7” at least. His arms were the size of casaba melons drying in the hot Turkish sun.

A few women exotic dancers writhed around on the stage around some poles, which elicited a few “Yeahs!” from the group that had just entered, but not many. Lynn the Bouncer was growing a beard in front of everyone, and as it took over his face and jutted out, it became instantly black, then streaked with gray. He rubbed his bald head and flexed his enormous melon arms and regarded the girls on stage with boredom. There was a chill in the air. Music started to thump and the group found themselves swaying to it…and Joe Street watched in ecstasy as they began to slowly morph before his eyes. In the corner of his eye he spotted an old man who had been moving silently among the servants all night, dressed in a very old 19th century cut of suit, with light forest green vest and maroon suit jacket and cravat. He didn't smile, merely just lifted his head with its lofty amounts of longish gray hair on his long, withered face, and Joe could see the eyes were almost hollow, and glinted with an orange flame where the pupils should be...

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muscledrain

Working on it. I did a few stories on my blog for Halloween as well.

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