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FREaky

He Who Protesteth Too Much by F_R_Eaky

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One of the ideas that came to me for Storyversary.  Have two other projects, collabs, I'm working on, but needed to get this out of my head first. LOL  Hope you enjoy.

 

He Who Protesteth Too Much... by F_R_Eaky

 

"Senator Roberts!  You are just a sick SICK man!"  bellowed Senator Michael Santini.  His little head on his small framed body turning beat red as he looked up to Senator Caleb Roberts. 

 

Senator Roberts was a pretty good looking man for being in his mid fifties.  His hair was still very thick and lush, vibrant, glistening ebony with streaks and flecks of grey and silver popping through.  This sat on a handsome, modelesque face with sparkling blue eyes, and despite him being an older man, enjoyed wearing a beard always only as long or as full as three day old scruff.  This hawt looking face sat upon a body that rose to a decent 6' 4" height that was very broad and very thick with muscle.  His waist was just starting to give, losing some of its tightness, but currently he only looked like an older style bodybuilder where the waist and abs were the same thickness as his hips.    Despite its thickness those abs still poked through with quite some size and definition; he would probably develop one of those off seasoned roid guts.  But he wasn't quite as large as a bodybuilder.  No... more like a personal trainer, maybe up to a wrestler.  Although his hands were large and thick, looking like he had lifted since birth, and his feet were large and manly, thick and long.  A size 16.  And all of that body covered in thick, feathery, thin hair, just as black and speckled with white and grey as his head was.  The body hair covered his chest, abdominals, arms, crotch, and legs completely, but it was so thick one couldn't see the muscular definition he had.

 

Senator Michael Santini on the other hand, was short.  Around 5' 4" tall, with a midsection that been developing since he started in politics some 35 years ago.  His gut was so round, Senator Roberts often wondered if he pushed Santini over, would Santini simply bounce back up like the ball his gut was.  He had the build of a weeble....an oompa-loompa. .. fake orange tan, too.  His hair had already gone white and was quite balding.  He kept his face perfectly shaven and clean.  He had spectacles that partially hid his dulling brown eyes.  His large fat jowls quivered and shook whenever he was angry.  And tonight he was.

 

"I can't believe you're pushing that mother fucking, damn homo agenda again!."

 

"Michael, I only want equality for us.  We have the ability to marry I want to make sure inheritance and hospital visitations and other things hetero sexual couples are entitled to are there for us as well."

 

"It goes against nature.  NATURE!  It goes against GOD!  And how disgusting, you and that man-child of yours."

"That's my partner, and he's not a man-child.  He's thirty yea...."

 

"He's twenty-five years younger than you.  That's not right.  It's sickening!"

"Well, there's nothing you can do about it.  We're married, living in our own house, here in D.C.  We don't attend your parties out of respect to you.  We don't send you our Christmas cards.  Just friggin' deal with it, you decrepit, old, blow-hard!"

 

"OLD!  You and I are...."

"But no one would know it, would they?  You look twenty years older than you are.  You hold stuff in, so much anger, another five years and you'll look like the Grim Reaper, himself!"

 

"Well... I reached the end of my rope!"

"Good.  Let go and fall."

 

"I mean it.  I'm not taking any more of your people's shit?"

"You know what? I think you need to calm down.  Why don't you go cash in your points at 'Whores R Us' this evening?"

"YOU BASTARD!"

 

And with that Senator Santini swung his heavy briefcase right into Roberts' groin.  Roberts double over in pain, only to meet the briefcase side to face, flipping back over his car's trunk lid.

 

"Are you nuts?!"

 

Apparently the answer was yes, for at that moment, Senator Santini pulled a knife out from his fancy walking stick and attempted to take a jab.

 

However, with Senator Roberts shaking his car a bit, it alerted his bodyguards and they came streaming out of the miniature limo.  All of them easily between the 6' 6" to 6' 10" mark, with very well developed musculature that threatened to pop off every chest button from their button up shirts.  Quickly one grabbed Senator Santini's hand and wrenched it backwards, forcing the knife to drop from his hand.  Santini sputtered and cursed, under the questions the body guards had inquiring if they should call the police or just dump him off by his car.

 

"No..." said Senator Roberts very solemnly. "I, too, have had enough.  Me think the man dost protest too much, and we all know what that usually means.  ... ... ... I have something better in mind for him.  You two, go ice his tires and rip whatever you can get a hold of under the hood.  You two hold him right there."

 

Reaching into his car, Senator grabbed something out of his briefcase that looked long, wooden, highly polished, and slightly tapered at one end.  Pointing it directly at Senator Santini's crotch, Senator Roberts looked as though he swelled a little larger, became a bit brighter, and then a low whisper came out of his mouth.... "Libido organum mutare te!"  There was spark of light that shot out the stick that struck Santini's crotch, made it glow, made his penis and testicles radiate warmth, and then there was nothing.

 

Senator Santini rolled his eyes back a little bit and curled his toes in his shoes as though he were having a slight orgasm.

 

"What.... what have you done to me?"

 

"Let us see exactly what you're made of, Michael.  You will have to walk home tonight.  I will make sure no one, nothing, will pick you up.  You must walk home, and as you do so, this spell will cause your, what I'm sure is a minute pecker and cheerio sized balls, to grow.... the more it grows, the more it will make you grow later, turning you into a true paragon of whatever you are.  If you like women, you'll become a good looking, womanizing, younger, middle-aged man again.  If you don't... .... .... Well, let's just allow the magic of the universe to do what it wills."

 

And with that two of Roberts bodyguards carried Santini and his briefcase back to his car and let him go.

 

As he watched Roberts' mini-limo leave the garage, Santini swore loud and long many a curse word their direction.  Then looking at his car, he spat in disgust, pulled out his keys, threw his briefcase into the passenger floorboard, and then locked the car back up.  He first pulled his phone out and attempted to call for help from co-workers, taxis, uber-services; but no one heard him on the other end of the phone.  He tried to flag down cars, but folks just drove right by him.  He attempted to board a bus and then the subways, but every time he went to sit down in a seat, he'd suddenly be standing at the stop again, while the bus or car pulled away leaving him behind.  Finally he gave up and began walking home.

 

He walked briskly, with his head held up, for he knew some of the areas around the Mall were slightly dangerous at night, but if he looked like he knew where he was going, there would be a slightly less chance he'd be attacked.  There were a number of couples out taking strolls along the park and he smiled and thought to himself, "As it should be."   When, after passing several couples, nothing seemed to happen to him he laughed and thought, "Bastard Roberts tried to make me think that Harry Potter kind of shit was real.  Ought to get that kind of stories banned, the damage they do to our children!"

 

Santini rounded a corner and stopped for a moment.  He could hear laughter.  A male laughing, followed by the sound of a loud smooch.  Over and over with the smooch sound.  He thought to himself, "Go get her, man.  Take her and make love."  There was some rustling in some trees and bushes, followed by the sound of another man's voice laughing.  Santini stopped in disgust, just in time to see one man falling backwards out of the bush, being caught by the other and pulled back into his arms.  They were young, in their twenties.  One was very thin and lithe.  The other was a little beefier.  The heavier one was in a sleeveless muscle shirt, the other in tank that was nearly pulled off his torso.  They embraced and kissed fully, hard, and long.  Their tongues were exploring each other's oral cavities and checking their tonsils for sure.  They suddenly paused and noticed Santini standing there and gasped.  Then looking at his face, laughed, looked at each other, and ran down the sidewalk, holding each other's hands.

 

Santini started to mumble something about how unnatural it was but then stopped, struck dumb.  A warmth came over his crotch and suddenly he swore he felt his cock ooze out a little more from his body.

 

"I am not getting an erection over that.  I despise it!"

 

His balls responded this time swelling just a touch larger.  Santini stood there trying to keep control, but it felt as though he might blow a load.  Not here.... not in public.... that's so lewd!

 

Just then some men appeared, walking together in a group, and they had their eyes set directly on Santini.  He knew they were trouble.  He could tell they meant to rob him.  Quickly he crossed the street and then once across began to sprint down the side walk.

 

Over his labored breathing he could head the pounding of their footsteps running at top speed and the sound was getting louder, closer.

 

"We just wanna talk to you, man!"

 

"Yeah, help a brother out?"

 

"You look like you have some extra cash you don't need."

 

 Most of the men chasing him down were taller than Senator Santini, and much younger, so it didn't take too long before they overtook him.  The leader, a man of about six feet in height and around 190 pounds of muscle, dressed in a muscle  t-shirt and sleeveless denim vest, with blue jeans that had a severe case of slash marks, flipped Senator Santini around by his shoulders and slammed him, backside, up against a wall.

 

"I really hate those that run!" the gang leader bellowed in Senator Santini's face. "You're gonna stay right where I tell you or you're gonna deal with this!"  And with that the young man flexed his right arm in front of Santini's face.

 

Santini's eyes grew wide in fear, not because of the man's ample sized upper arm created by a rising bicep peak or a well formed tricep horseshoe, but because the warmth spread over his groin again and he worried what this man might do if he realized.

 

Realization was inevitable as quickly Santini's snake began to slither out farther from his groin, and as it grew and bunched in his underpants, Santini was unable to silence the moan escaping from his lips.  Looking down the leader could see Santini's package filling out a little more.

"What the hell?  Do I turn you on, you pervert?"

 

The leader didn't have time to hear the answer.  The quick wail of a police siren and Santini kneed the man in the groin.  Santini then took off running, with a couple of the gang members still following him, others went in different directions, and the rest were detained by the police. 

 

With a part of the gang still in pursuit, Santini made his way through various garages and alleyways as well as some well travelled main streets to give the gang the slip.  They were however just as keen as the Agency or the Bureau to use cell phones and pairs to keep tabs on him.  He could see a pair of them spotting him again as he took off down an alley which, lucky for him, had a couple coming out of a door that was useable by one side only.  He ran up past, the couple, and then caught the door behind them.  Swinging around he pulled it shut and then turned to face the room he was in.  It was a movie theater.

"Oh gawd." Santini thought. "This could be saving or the kill."

Yes, it was indeed a public place, but they could lay in wait for him outside, or worse yet, come into the theater and sit by that exit door and the seating arena's entrance.  He needed to make sure no one else saw him so that they could tell the gang members he was there, in case they said they were "looking for a friend."

 

Being a small man, he ran for the arena entrance and then ducked into a trash bin.  His short and lithe frame, well, with a bit of paunch,  fit just snuggly, but well, with inside the confines of the box.  It worked out well as when the attendants came round, they merely peaked down the top of the garbage bag and saw it wasn't anywhere near to being one-fourth of the way through and so they let it be.

Santini exhausted from running, being out of shape, old, and him coming down from the adrenaline rush, soon fell asleep.  He woke up to the sound of a movie going.  There was sound of breaking glass... or china, raised voices in a heated argument.  Gingerly, although not quite as stealthily as he would have hoped, Senator Santini came out from his hiding place.  Walking into the seating area, he peered around and above the wall he stuck close to and saw no one was in attendance for this movie's showing.  Breathing a sigh of relief, before he began to walk his way home again, he though to rest in the seats for just a moment to ease the tension of his back, shoulders, and neck.

"Why are you so angry with me, Ted?  And how could you be with Skye?" the movie played out.

 

"Because you left me.  You said we were going to do everything together, be everywhere once we got away from our parents and half way through your sophomore year you bailed on our college, on me."

 

"Oh lord..." thought Santini to himself. "All the places I could hide in and this one is showing the movie I wanted banned."

"I needed you there, Craig.  Even if we didn't stay together, I needed you.  I needed your street smarts.  Help me navigate coming out to family, introducing and working myself into the gay community, to see who the predators were, the one night stands, the clubs where I'd get my wallet picked clean, the places one could actually have fun, the introduction to... .... ...  You left.  You lost all those chances.  Skyelar came in and helped me, assisted me.  He taught me all the code words we use to classify ourselves into this genre or fetish, introduced me to the leather world, the drag world, the bear world, the we just look like plain ordinary men but we love ass world.  And the whole time he never made an advance on me.  He never thrust me into a situation that was more than I could handle or comprehend.  He sat by me during my first morning hangover wipeout.  You weren't here.  You claimed you loved me, wanted to be with me, yet you missed out on every first.  If you had just made some sort of si....."

At that point in the movie Craig pulled Ted in and kissed him full and deeply.  The kiss lasted for a good three to four minutes.  Afterwards, Ted broke free and slapped Craig across the face and punched him on the chest.  It was then the pair noticed that Skyelar was in the doorway.

 

Senator Santini looked up in wide-eyed wonderment at the scene that was playing out and he felt something stir inside him - deep inside him.  The stirring gave way to a warmth in his groin.

 

"Oh.... no.... no.... no... not here.... NOT HERE!"

 

The growing sensation this time nearly sent Santini flying backwards out of his chair.  His hips, buttocks, and groin region raised up in the air and his pecker pushed itself out longer, thicker, than ever before while his balls inflated like a balloon on a helium tank.  In a matter of seconds the bulge around Santini's crotch was very noticeable.

The movie music cued dramatically as Skyelar punched Craig and then turned to grab Ted.  The look was the typical "are you all right" look that is given just before the other person kisses the hero.

 

"No.  NO!"

 

The senator burst through the exit door.  Damn if the gang is still out there.  He'd rather be beaten and stolen from than to watch that movie or have his cock inflated ever longer and with more girth because of it.

 

Hobbling along, Senator Santini continued his walk towards his home.  He package was ample enough it caused a little problem with his gate, especially in its balled up state.  At about the half way mark from the theater to his home he crossed an intersection known for its "business."  In fact the senator had frequently picked up a number of ladies here, some of them becoming favorites and regulars.  In his worn out and harried state none of the ladies recognized him and so all were aggressively and openly hitting on him to take him home of the evening.

 

The senator stammered no and pushed the ladies away, albeit politely and tried to continue his walk home.  Several ladies joked about him not being a real man, man enough to handle them.  That's when another figure stepped out from the shadows.  It was man, who stated loudly that may he was too much man for the ladies and needed another man to handle the job.  He did this while sliding up very close to the senator and then squeezing the senator's package.

"Holy shit!  Aren't you a blessed one!  My gawd, I think I could either ride you for free or  I ought to pay you."

 

Stunned by the comment, Santini looked at the man in all his tight fitting and skin revealing clothing and realized he found the man and his body both attractive and the warming sensation hit his groin once more and the round package now bulged out as though the senator had a softball, perhaps a grapefruit, or something slightly larger, stuffed down the front of his underwear.

 

The man of the corner looked down in absolute awe and bliss and gave Santini a wink.  The senator turn and bolted, running for his house once more, although he was constantly racking himself in pain now.

 

Finally he arrived at his house.  His wife was still out for the evening at some charity function, so he quickly made his way into his study.  Sitting down he poured himself a drink on the rocks, took a sip, and then proceeded to hold the glass to his groin as though cooling down his crotch rocket might help it return to normal.  That's when he felt it.

 

The warmth returned to the senator's crotch, but this time it seemed to build up specifically in his prick and then the sensation rose and spread out through his body.

 

"Auuuuugh"

 

He saw the tightness of his shirt around his gut loosen up a bit.  He felt his feet become a little more snug in his shoes.  His crotch didn't quite feel as heavy as it did a moment before.

 

"Auuuuuugh."

 

It happened again, this time he felt his shoulders spreading out.  His arms felt as though they were filling out his sleeves a bit, like they had never ever done so in his life.

 

"Auuuuugh."

Again the pulsing and pushing with his cock shrinking?  And his body seemed to stretch and grow.  His shoes felt as though they had given way for just a bit, but then the leather wrapped around his foot and travelled about three-fourths of the way up his shin.

 

"Ah-oooooooouh!"

 

Again the inverted pulse, the cock apparently shrinking, Santini's body growing outward.  His knees were pushing too far under the desk and close to hitting the drawer bottom.  He felt something change with his pants. They felt tighter on him and when he moved they caused his leather desk chair to squeak in blurts and blaps that nearly sounded like farting.

"Auuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!"

 

His pants became tighter still, and shinier.  The waist band wrapped itself around Santini's waist tightly and he could feel like his core was tight, taut, and strong.  His arms were being pushed away by something, being lifted up and hanging out.  The sleeves on his shirt were nearly form fitting and his shirt had become this billowing poets shirt with ruffley cuffs and collar.

 

"Ah-hooooooooooooo!"

 

Suddenly the Senator felt his hair touch his neck, no, touch his shoulders as a new goodly portion of his bangs fell down in front of his eyes.  He felt his chest swell and a button fly off the poet shirt, whose sleeves filled out thicker and rounder from the senator's bulging upper arms and formidable forearms.  His thighs and his ass swelled out more and caused the pants, which he knew now were leather, to stretch and tighten, form fit to his legs.  While that was going on his calves were pulsing and throbbing, growing in size and density stretching the top of the leather boots he was now wearing and making the tops spread out wider and wider compared to the ankles.

 

Meanwhile below, the front door to the house opened and in came Sylvan Santini, the senator's son.  He had a college friend with him and the two giggled and laughed as they came in.

 

"Mom?  Dad?" Sylvan called out but there was no answer.  No sound.  No other lights on.  "Perfect.  Put your stuff there at the bottom of the stairs.  We can take it up whenever we hear the buzz of the garage intercom go off, they won't know you're here yet and I can tell them you're already asleep so they won't argue about you staying here for a visit."

 

"So if we're not going upstairs now to unpack, what are we going to do?"

 

"This...." And with that Sylvan pulled his friend into the formal living room and reception area of the house and then thrust him backwards onto the couch. 

 

Sylvan was slightly like his dad, about an inch or two taller at 5' 6" with a slightly chubby body.  Nowhere near as much as his dad was, but you knew he wasn't destined to be fit and trim.  His mousy brown hair fell in the way of his bland and dull brown eyes as he climbed on top of his friend, Logan, who was a complete opposite of Sylvan.  He was an athlete for the college the pair attended, standing 6' 8" and around 295 pounds of muscle, with a boy next door face, perfect smile, topped with a feather mop of strawberry blond hair, and his body covered in a two day, scruffy beard and light colored, feathery hair all over his body.

 

Sylvan leaned over Logan and ran his hands up under Logan's football jersey, his fingers ruffling the feather hair and tracing the mounds and crevices of Logan's abs.  He then leaned in a began to give Logan passionate and deep kisses on this lips as Sylvan's hands worked to undo Logan's waist button.

 

"Wait!" Logan gasped.  "What if we get caught?  Do you want your dad to know?  He's like the most anti-gay senator there is in D.C."

 

Sylvan laughed and gave another kiss to Logan. "That's part of what makes this so arousing.  The thrill of being caught by my dad.  I'd so love to see his expression when he realizes his son is a...." and he did an impersonation of his father, "'...flaming pooftah!'"

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Senator Santini had had a few more of the pecker shrinking pulses radiate through his body.  Having caught a glimpse of himself in the window reflection he bolted upright out of his chair.  He couldn't believe how much higher than the desk top his hips, crotch, and buttocks were.  He took a few steps and marveled at the large thud his body was making, as if he were a couple, maybe three hundred or more pounds. 

 

Looking into a standing mirror he saw how the leather pants now looked painted on, and the boots nearly did as well.  The poet shirt was button popped about four buttons down and his chest spread the opening wide and down revealing to large, hairy covered slabs of muscle that were easily larger than any serving tray he had in the house and barreled more than any cask of wine located there, too.

 

His arms no longer hung down at his sides, but almost straight out as though he were imitating the drawing of man by Leonardo DaVinci.  The poet shirt only fluttered now at the frill of the collar and the cuffs, but the rest were nearly as tight as the skin tight and formed, leather pants.  When he walked you didn't see a person with stick like appendages move, you saw flexing and popping, mounding muscle mass, undulating crevices, bouncing forms, and stone tightening peaks.  He was a glorious behemoth of muscle that could easily take on, if not possibly dwarf Sylvan's friend, Logan downstairs.

 

Looking confused at the style of belt that hung large and dangling off his waist and the cap upon his head, both of which were leather and highly studded, Michael Santini stop and froze when he heard the sound of giggles and moans coming from downstairs.  As gracefully and quietly as a man his size could, he crept down the stairs and stopped at the bottom when he turned and beheld the spectacle that awaited him in the foyer.

 

Logan had grabbed, with both arms one of the entrance columns, his head and back were tilted backwards and arch, an expression of pure bliss across his face.  His pants and underwear were down and there was another young man going to town with his mouth upon Logan's decent, but not overly sized member.

 

In split second of fluttering eyes, Logan perceived the presence of someone else in the foyer and gasped.  This caused Sylvan to react and then feel the presence of another in the room as well.  After exclaiming the word "what" to Logan, he turned his head sideways and saw a near giant sized muscle man in knee high boots, leathers, and a poet shirt standing at the bottom of the stairs.

 

"D... Da...Dad?" Sylvan said as he looked at the face of this man, that looked like his father, but appeared much younger and much taller and broader than his dad could ever hope to be.

 

"Sylvan?" said Michael Santini questionably, but the questions that might have come to the top were stopped as a wave of warmth spread over Michael again and an audible moan issued from his lips.

 

Sylvan and Logan stared in wonder as they saw this man's pants inflate at the crotch and then shrink back down again in proportion as the man suddenly grew up taller, broader, thicker, and hairier than he had been just seconds before.  The poet shirt developed a large black "x" across itself and then suddenly faded out of view as a chain and leather halter appeared and hugged Mr. Santini's chest, lats, and back so snuggly one thought, "If he moves, it will snap."

"Whoa... Dad!"

 

Michael Santini stammered and then bolted for the door.  His footsteps thudded and echoed so loudly in the foyer one would have thought with each step he was breaking floor tile.  Flinging open the door he tried to run through, only to smack his head upon the door frame, then his shoulders, chest, and lats on the door frame sides, and swear loudly.  Finally realizing he needed to perform twist like dance moves, he ducked and twisted sideways at the same time and ran out of the house and into the street.

 

He was out and out running this time.  He had grown fitter, possibly slightly younger but only by a few years, if that.  Still, his health however was definitely and dramatically improved.  He could feel it in the way his body moved as he ran.  How his lungs filled with air and released in timing with each step.  However he was desperately trying not to become turned on and aroused more and more with each gait of his run.  He could feel how heavy he had become, but heavy with dense, thick, and strong muscle.  He felt the energy and power each and every time his foot touched the ground and then his calves and thighs helped launch him forward.  He could feel the bounce and heft of his pectoral muscles as they undulated in lift and fall in gravity with the motion of his trotting body.  The gait had become a swing out to go forward movement as his thighs rolled around one another due to their great circumference.  His massive, bulbous upper arms that bounced as he ran, being pushed so far up and out by his flaring lats.

He successfully ignored all of that, but the pull on his groin from his ballooning balls and lengthening cock proved to be too much for Mr. Santini.  Once again his cock grew out slightly and then shrunk back in just a bit, producing that warm feeling that course through his body.  He saw his point of view rise a little bit higher.  He felt his body become a bit thicker, stronger, denser, wider, fuller.  Suddenly studded arm bands appeared around the crevice created between his upper arm and his deltoids, studded leather cuffs also appeared around his wrists, while the hair on the front of his torso grew in and out thicker, furrier, and became darker losing all of its grey and white sheen to a beautiful chestnut brown.

 

He wasn't sure where he was running to.  He needed to find help.  He needed to call someone.  Up ahead to his right he saw the bright lights of an establishment, possibly a bar.  They would have a telephone he could use.  Surely the management would take pity on him and allow him to make one phone call.

 

There was man at the front door, a fairly big man.  Michael Santini was looking down at him, and now he was even more worried.  Obviously he must have been pricked or given a shot of some drug by his earlier attackers as he could not possibly have this point of view, looking down on such a large....broad....uhm.....beefy.....man.

 

"Welcome, sir!  Go right on in."  The bouncer at the door said enthusiastically with a lusty smile on his face.

 

"Ah..." thought Mr. Santini.  "There's a smart man who recognizes when someone is in distress."

 

Ducking and twisting his way through the doorway, Michael suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  All conversation in the place stopped and low whispers began travelling across the room.  Men came up to him from every side; some to measure themselves up against him, others to place a hand on his upper arms or upon his abdomen.  Cat calls and whistles soon were being heard over loud screams of dog barks and wolf howls.  Michael felt his ass being firmly groped, followed by his crotch.  There were men who were throwing themselves at his legs and hanging on as he tried to walk forward.  He shut his eyes against all these lewd advancing men, and concentrated on getting to the bar, but secretly he was fighting the arousing sensation building in him once more - the urge to have a full erection.  Finally he made it to the bar as the sea of men looked up to him and stood aside, parted as if Michael were Moses and his rod commanded all.

"Hey hey, giant stud.  Welcome to Flaming Shots. What'll you ha....."  The bartender looked into Michael's face and realized something was quite right.  "Are you okay?  You look a little wobbly for some reason."

 

"I need... .... to use your phone.  I'm... .... not right.... .... something's..... wrong..."

"Sure.  Go to the end of the bar and I can take you to a back room where we have a phone."

Michael made his way to the end of the bar, where upon the bartender guided him into a small room with a phone, and a small table.

"You look kind of like you're in shock.  I can make the call for you, but besides maybe the paramedics, any family you need to have called?"

"NO!  No ambulance.  Can't be seen.... uh.... family..... No... they can't..... I..... uh.......Roberts."

 

"Robert?"

"No.  Roberts.  C...Ca...Caleb....Caleb Roberts."

"The senator?  Do you work for him?"

 

"NO!  What?  I must speak with him.  I NEED TO SEE HIM!"

 

"Alright calm down.  Just... have a seat right there at the table.  I'll get you a glass of water and see about getting a hold of Senator Roberts."

The man left to go get the glass of water, but then stopped to talk to another big bouncer that was standing at the bottom of a staircase. "Uhmmm hey, go tell Caleb we have a slight emergency down here.  There's a guy, a BIG guy, who says he needs to talk to him.  Looks like one of his personal body guards, but he is a bit out of it and about ready to scream for him and make a scene."

 

The bartender then went to get the glass of water and bring it back to Michael Santini.  Michael was becoming agitated, wondering when he could place the phone call to Senator Roberts, confused over why he felt the need the urge to call him.  His breathing became rapid, his kept tensing and flexing his muscles.  Finally he flipped the table in front of him over and bellowed for his ability to call Senator Roberts.

 

"Now, now.  It's okay, Mister...?"

 

Mr. Santini turned his gaze and attention towards the man addressing him who had just reached the bottom of the staircase and was crossing the landing.  It was Senator Roberts, in almost all of his 6' 4" muscled glory.  He was wearing a Roman toga and sandals, with one pectoral exposed, as well as his thick thighs due to the toga's short, short length.  His silver and grey pepper hair was semi-plastered to his forehead due to sweat.  He had a riding crop in one hand and in his other he had the handle of a chain leash that hung down and travelled back up to a halter connected to a mountain of a man that was quite a bit bigger built than Senator Roberts' trainer size physique, as well as being around twenty years or so younger.

Michael Santini stood there and suddenly let his jaw drop as though he were looking at the most beautiful man in the world as he uttered one word. "Caleb?"  And then his gaze traveled up the chain to the man behind Senator Roberts and a look of disgust came across Michael's face and once again he said Senator Roberts' first name but this time with a bit of shock and disgust. 

 

Then suddenly a deep, lusty moan escaped from Michael's throat and his crotch inflated and inflated and inflated some more and then shrunk back just a little.  His body began to rise higher, and push out wider and thicker than ever before.  He was definitely hitting the medical legal definition of being a giant and a giant bodybuilder, extreme bodybuilder, at that.  Within moments the arm bands that had just recently appeared snapped and flew off of him.   His nipples grew hard, the crevices cut in deeper as his muscles got larger and tighter.  Slithering pythons of veins rose to the top of his skin and traversed the peaks and valleys of every muscle belly on his body. The leather cuffs at his wrists snapped and tore leaving mere threads to hold themselves together.  His leather pants shimmered and suddenly their crotch and ass section disappeared and they became a pair of leather chaps that could barely contain the massive thighs and calves of Mr. Michael Santini.  Michael's prick then fell hanging so long and thick, like nearly three fourths the way down his thigh and then began to rise up and up into a massive, pulsing, vein covered, flesh toned, iron rod.
 

Suddenly bursting into the room Sylvan and Logan were there to which Logan gasped and Sylvan became dumbstruck until he finally uttered out the word, "Dad?"

 

"I'm sorry, sir." said the bartender. "They just came running in saying they heard reports of a hulkish man dashing in here and said it was their father?"


Senator Roberts stood there for a moment, staring at the man before him, then over to Sylvan and Logan, then at the face of Mr. Santini.

"Senator Santini?"

 

Michael looked back at Roberts with a sort of punch drunk, blank expression on his face.

"I never expected you to hold back from who you were this long.  Nor did I expect... ... how long have you had a crush on me?"

 

Michael just stared back like a puppy longing for companionship, his erect cock bobbing in front of him throbbing as though it might burst. 

"What the hell is going on here?" yelled Sylvan.  "Obviously I don't have a problem with a gay bar, but I know this... ..... porn giant.... is my father.  How did he become this?"

 

"It...." started Senator Roberts. "...is a combination of my fault and your fathers."

 

"What?"

"You know he had an extreme hatred against homosexuals, did you not?"

 

"Yeah, but..."

 

"Your father attacked me in the garage near the Capitol building early this evening - knife and briefcase.  He told me he had had enough and with him actually physically attacking me, so had I.  I hexed him with a particular curse I thought was befitting because I suspected where his mind and heart truly lie.  That he was a secreted, closeted, gay man.  My curse was to have his own desires change him.  Every time he saw something he would find arousing, he would change and grow.  I left it to the universe to decide how long it would last and when it would wear off.  I thought he'd come to terms, to acceptance with himself or acceptance of homosexuals at least, before too many changes would occur.  Apparently he denied himself to the very end, thus causing him to grow into..."

 

"Into what has got to be a seven and half foot tall muscle bound, leather clad giant.  How the hell is he going to live with himself?  How are we going to live with him?  He'll be beside himself.  He'll be angry.  Confused."

 

"He'll be all right.   Yet you are correct his life, your life can't go on as it had been.  Jameson, " said Senator Roberts to one of his bodyguards, "case, if you please."

 

"Case?  What are you going to do?"

 

One of the formerly very large men that was a body guard to Senator Roberts went back up the stairs and then came back down holding a small wooden and silk lined case, which he presented to Senator Roberts.  Roberts placed it on the now re-up righted table and solemnly opened it revealing the wand that caused Michael Santini all his problems for the evening.  Picking the wand up he turned around and pointed it at Mr. Santini.

 

"A historical, story timeline adjustment must occur to match up with the physical changes that have occurred to your father.  Obviously with his much healthier, muscular, and youthful look, plus his large increase in height, no one, even with finger printing and blood tests, is going to believe he is Senator Michael Santini."

"So... .... ....what's going to happen?"

"Well... I'm going to perform a spell allowing the Universe to rewrite his history, and thus part of yours.  Just stand there and close your eyes.  You'll feel changes wash over you in your memory.  You can be the informant, the narrator, for us so we know what his background has become and where we need to send him on his way to his new life."

 

"O... ok?" said Sylvan questionably and then he just breathed a sigh and closed his eyes.

 

Michael still standing somewhat dazed looking, looked questioningly towards Senator Roberts who took his wand in hand , pointed it at Michael and said, "Quod rescripserunt in DNA, Universum, rescribo historia eius."

 

A swirl of air flowed out of the tip of Senator Roberts' wand until it wrapped around and encircled Michael Santini like a small, personal tornado, but there was a small break off funnel to danced and tickled Sylvan's feet as though it wanted to grab all of him.

 

"He's... .... ....he's involved in security.... .... in fact he's working for you, Senator Roberts.  He's one of your body guards now.  A Senator... Phillips... it's the man who ran against my father so many years ago!  He's the one who has taken my father's place.  In fact, Dad worked security for him and he introduced my dad to you.  He decided it would be better since... .... since he and my mom married after my father and mom's divorce shortly after I was born and Dad... ... .... came out?!"

 

Sylvan opened his eyes just time to join everyone in the small room to see more changes come over Michael Santini.  The chaps became whole again and the fabric turned into the fabric used for a good pair of relaxed, slightly stretchable professional work pants.  The harness disappeared replaced by black dress shirt open a couple of buttons down from the neck, and then a black suit jacket matching the fabric of the pants - the leather boots now having turned into an incredibly large pair of dress shoes.

 

"I can see it now too, Sylvan." said Senator Roberts.  "He's my biggest bodyguard at 7' 4", I pay him decently, I allow him time off to compete at the Mr. Olympia and preliminary contests, he lives in the guest quarters of my houses, where there is an extra room for you when you come over to stay with him, while his bedroom has a king sized bed for him and..."

 

Suddenly there was a man who faded into existence.   The man was only about 5' 3" tall, but had a solid gymnast style build.  Sandy blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and smooth and flawless skin. He was wearing some trainers on his feet, a pair of jeans that were a very light denim color and very tight and form fitting on his legs, with a dark blue polo shirt that hugged his upper arms, delts, shoulders, back, chest and lats so well one almost swore it was painted on or perhaps a tattoo.  There was a quick glint of light upon Michael and the short man's hands where everyone could see matching rings, one on each hand, of a gold band with seven flat, inlayed diamonds, surrounded by two bans of polished black metal - modern wedding bands.

 

At that moment Michael Santini stumbled forward, sighing.  The small man sprang to life, attempting to prop him up as though he were the Atom, small man with super strength.

 

"Michael..."

 

Michael groaned.  "It's o.k. Allyn." as he stabled himself by grabbing the arm of one of his fellow guards.

 

Allyn looked up at Senator Roberts.  "Sir... may I take him home?  He's been having a series of headaches the last couple of days.  I'm not sure he feels well."

 

"Of... of course... Al...Allyn.  Have my chauffer take you two home in my car.  I can use one of the following guard's car." Senator Roberts stammered as the new history formed into his memory.

 

Things returned to the new normal within a few minutes.  The crowd was laughing, smooching, groping and drinking out in the bar.  Upstairs the inner circle of the bar were fully making out, groping, petting, jacking off and giving blow jobs all while in leather and chains or other notable fetish wear.  It was now just Senator Roberts, the man in chains, who was his partner, Sylvan, and his boyfriend, Logan.

 

"Allyn."  Said Sylvan.  "He was my father's best friend in High School and part of college.  At least that's how it used to be.  He would tell me stories of how things changed  between them in college so I would understand not everyone I was friends with in high school would remain so."

"And Allyn was probably a man in love with your father and either wanted to come out or was more afraid to do so, and so the pair drifted apart."

 

"But now... in this new history, they stayed together behind the scenes and got married after mom and dad divorced."  Sylvan said as he kind of looked down sullenly at the floor.

 

"You don't approve of your father's new history?"

 

"No... it's not that...  I mean... it's great and all.  In fact it makes some things a lot easier.  At least I know for certain now that one of my parents would approve of my boyfriend, here.  Speaking of whom, this is Logan, my boyfriend, by the way."

 

"Nice to meet you, Logan."

 

"And you, sir."

 

"But folks are gonna wonder if I have a syndrome or something." spoke Sylvan.

 

"I beg your pardon."

 

"Well... I mean.  I'm his son and I may not necessarily grow to be as tall, nor as built as him, but he's almost two feet taller than me."

"You think the universe should have changed you as well."

 

"I don't know.  On one hand it's going to be weird me being this short chubby man, the son of a behemoth built giant over seven feet tall, but at the same time, if I'm made too huge and tall, then that would change the dynamics between Logan and I and that would be...."

 

"That would be hot as hell." blurted out Logan.

 

"What?" Said both Sylvan and Caleb at the same time.

 

"Bro...." Logan began. "I love you just like you are, being able to easily pick you up, to squish and tickle you, but if you wanted to become big and huge like your dad is now....  I.... I wouldn't mind it.  I'm almost always the big dude.  Yeah, some guys are built bigger than me, because I choose it.  I have enough problems finding clothes that fit due to my height.  My height which although there are some men who are taller than me, it's rare with me being as tall as I am, and if they are, they're usually a lot slimmer and thin.  I'm always looked to for help, assistance, protection.  Logan, lift this.  Logan, reach that.  Logan this guy is bullying me.  It would be fucking hot to find someone I could climb, someone who could wrap me up in a cuddle, someone who would make me feel small.  If you wanted to become that, so long as you did so without becoming a jerk....I think.... I....."

 

Within a moment one could see that Logan wasn't small in other areas either as his rod expanded down his inner left thigh and then fought to raise itself in erection beyond the confines of the broad shorts.

 

"God, Logan.  Can't you ever control that anaconda of yours?"

"Said Mr. Pot to Mr. Kettle?"  Inquired Senator Roberts.

 

"What?" and then suddenly Sylvan felt it.  His own cock had developed a hard on, and although nowhere near as big as his lover, Logan's cock was... it was still enough to produce a throbbing bulge.  He blushed and turned his face away.

 

"The spell couldn't automatically effect you because of the other strings of your life, like how would this effect your relationship with Logan, school, and such, but... it looks as though Logan would still love you no matter what, if not more so as a behemoth like your father."

 

"Hell, by now you'd be in your last years of junior competition; I'd help you train for your first Olympia to knock your old man down." Logan smiled.

 

"You sure, Logan?"

"I'm fine with it.  Question is, 'Are you?'"

 

Sylvan smiled.  "I think... I'd love it.  What do I do?"

 

"Think back to my spell, and just invite those winds of change to wash over you."

 

Sylvan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.  The small amount of whirling wind that tickled his feet earlier appeared once more and grew and grew until it engulfed Sylvan's whole body.

 

A few moments later Sylvan began to moan, some blurts in pleasure, others in agony and pain.  His feet had begun to grow and to stretch and thus his shoes extended longer and tighter.  His heel began to muffin top over the heel top of the shoe.  His toes began to form ridges along the top front.  The sides of the shoe began to roll over, out, and down over the sides of the soles, while the laces were being pulled tighter and tighter across the bridge of Sylvan's feet.  Then the sides began to slowly rip along their length and Sylvan could feel the fresh cool air tickle the sides of his feet and bottom of his soles.  The laces began to snap as the eyelets were pulled farther and farther apart by the higher and wider arch of Sylvan's feet.  At the same time the back of the shoe was ripping apart while the toes were ripping out and growing past the front.  His feet kept growing longer, thicker, wider, until they not only engulfed but completely hide the soles of his shoes, while the shoe tops looked like torn and ever shrinking spats upon his massive, muscular feet, until the fell away to the floor.

"Oooh gawd..." moan Sylvan.  "My feet feel so heavy... so long...." and he patted them a couple of times upon the hard wood floor.

 

In a few moments the hems of Sylvan's pants' legs began to rise higher and higher up his leg.  As one watched him, one could see it was just his shins growing as although his whole body was rising, the stretch was contained between his feet and knees.  Up and up he grew until the jean hems stopped about half way up his calves.  Then with moans slowly and lowly coming out of his mouth, he began to travel upward, higher and higher once again.  This time folks could see the stretch happening between the knees and the waist, but as he was growing up, his knees also grew larger and thicker, his hips and waist as well.  He was still a fit, average man build, but they were increasing to the size of extremely tall basketball player. At one point the button snapped on the waist band, but the rest of pants hugged the larger body well and fairly tightly.  When all was done it looked as though Sylvan was wearing a slightly snug and ill fitting pair of capris , whose hems were right at the middle of the knees.

 

It was the hem of the shirt that took off next as Sylvan's torso began to extend and rise, higher and higher.  The spine popping and rocking hither and yon, his rib cage expanding further outward and upward.  His shoulder snapping and widening, causing the arm bones to grow longer and farther was well.  As the neck started lifting Sylvan's head up higher and higher, the hem of the shirt was rising as well revealing the hips, the bottom abs, the navel, the second row of abs.  In a few moments the shirt that once was slightly tight fitting on a pudgy frame was now stretched in some ways, very loose in others, and looked like a midriff shirt on his now towering body.  The same way his sleeves had shrunk as well, once hanging very well over his delts and to the middle of his upper arms, they now stretched around his arm pits and about half way down his delts.

 

Looking like some lanky, young, pool boy in his now capri style jeans and midriff muscle shirt, Sylvan stumbled a little bit as he was trying to gain his footing and understand his new point of view perspective, having grown now to be 12 inches taller than the door frames of the building. 

 

But then he stood straight and tall, planting one foot slightly in front of the other as if to take a powerful and well supported stance.  Sylvan started breathing in slow and steady, quivering, then taking in gasping breaths, but not as if choking, more as if turned on, breathing heavy during the act of sex.  That's when it started, with a low and powerful groan.  Veins began to rise up on his skin starting with his feet, the rose up and across his ankles to climb over his shins and calves, then rolling over the thighs, across the butt cheeks, around his hips and down his shaft and balls, while other side snakes went up the abs brick over brick until they hit the crevice of his chest and then spread out like eagle wings across that broad horizon until the continued like tendrils over the delts, down the upper arms, over the fore arms and into the hands.  A last few pythons worked their way up the neck and into the head.

 

At that moment Sylvan was just a tall, lanky, man covered in a web of veins criss-crossing his body such it looked nearly like he had a purplish net over him.  But then one could see the veins rising... plumping... no, they were pulsing.  They would suddenly become larger and fatter with the pulse of Sylvan's blood, and then shrink down.  Yet, as they shrunk down, his muscles began to swell out.  With each pulse of his veins and their shrinkage, his muscles filled out thicker... harder... fuller... denser... more striated.

 

Sylvan began to chuckle.  He could see the new memories building up in his life:  the time when by the end of his Freshman year in high school he was two inches taller than his father.  By the end of his college Freshman year, he'd grown another four inches taller than that, making him half a foot taller than his father.  He worked out like crazy right after both growth spurts, using the body's usual ability of filling out in muscle strength and size to move the new bigger body.  This meant he achieved a huge amount of muscle growth both times.  Consider that he kept working out in between those times, eating more, lifting more, stretching and relaxing more, his muscles just soaked it all up and inflated at great and maximum size and speed.

 

Sylvan's chuckles got larger and were mixed with moans.  He was seeing average sized men shrink around him in his memories until he was two feet taller than them, while the few seven footers on the college basket ball team were almost a foot shorter.  He loved the fact that his body was so big, built, bulging, and heavy that almost any piece of furniture groaned under his weight, straining to support it.  How he couldn't fit into most regular cars, or vans, let alone mini cars and doorways.  It was a huge turn on with him and he felt his new and growing cock lengthen and harden as it grew to full erection down the left side pants leg making it look like he had stolen and stuffed an extremely large summer sausage down there.

 

The memories kept coming...  the first time he blew and arm sleeve out, seeing that it ripped all the way to the shoulder seam;  the time he tried his father's pants on and the hem, which was a couple inches high on his legs, suddenly popped and ripped because his calves were larger than his bodybuilder dad's calves were.  The thighs as well easily ripped the side seams wide open, while his bubble butt and orange sized balls and miniature baseball bat, took up too much space, and while the pants hugged like a second skin Sylvan's ass, his cock and balls ripped the metallic teeth of the zipper apart, eventually ripping the fly and joining the seam rips so the pants sloughed off and fell to the ground.

 

The first time in public after he had grown quite a bit taller that his shirts were showing off his lower abdomen, and no amount of pulling would bring the hem down to his waist band.  This first time he moved his arm and his lats, arms, chest, and shoulders caused the shirt to rip at the arm pit and side.  The first time when stretching that the ball of his biceps split his sleeve right open, or the fact that as friends commented on it, he also flexed his forearm and busted the sleeve and then the cuff there as well. The first time he casually leaned back to relax while taking a deep breath and a sound was heard similar to a row of bubble packing paper being all popped - his expanding chest having cause four buttons to pop off and go flying across the room.  This was the first time Logan let Sylvan know of his interest in him, as he joking tried to pull Sylvan's shirt closed and chastised him for not wearing clothes that fit, but secretly shoved his hand under the fabric to feel up Sylvan's vest, run his fingers through Sylvan's hair and whisper up to him, "Gawd that was so hawt; I'm totally horned and boned for you now."

 

The muscles kept growing thicker and farther out.  Deep were the cuts and valleys; defined were the striations; bulging and peaking were the muscle bellies; crazily full were his veins; deceptively thin looked his skin stretched over the mighty muscled mass; bushy and feathery was the hair covering his chest, abs, mid upper down to forearms, crotch, and legs; murky was the air with sweat and musk.

 

His biceps peak rose so high in the opposite direction of his tri's that his whole upper arm looked to be as big and round as basketballs he could so easily palm and dunk.  Not just one but two kegs barreled out from the top of his torso that were the solid yet bouncing and protruding pecs.  A range of shoulders that looked like mountains attempted to squeeze off the great neck that looked like a cut away section of a giant redwood trunk.  His Adonis belt, so thick, lats so wide, he looked as though he could glide if he jumped out of a plane, while his abs looked like a towering rock climbing wall.  Massive tree trunk sized thighs that had a great many of hanging tear drop shaped bee hives encircling it, with a thigh bicep that threatened to dwarf his upper arms, including hamstrings so thick they might support the golden gate bridge, and all of this above calves so thick, so wide, so fully developed they were beyond small ball shape, beyond the beating heart, past the hard diamond, and skewed into a huge, three dimensional, kite shape.

 

In front of him, more correctly in front of his great balls, hung the titanic tube, which had gone flaccid, and in this soft and squeezable state, still went down about three-fourths the way down his thigh.  But then those veins returned to visit it, rising and swelling up across the top of the skin and as they did so, this preposterous python became even larger, longer, fatter, thicker, as rapidly rose in rigidity and threatened to go well past Sylvan's knee if allowed to hang straight down as it did flaccid.  But a full standing erection wasn't possible, for it grows too long, too thick, too heavy for it to rise up and stand at attention pointing to the top row of Sylvan's abdominals.  No, it stuck straight out and bobbled as it throbbed between a 40 to 90 degree angle from his body.

 

With his growth finished, now naked, Sylvan made quite the intimidating impression to almost everyone in the room.  Everyone that is except Senator Caleb Roberts and Logan.  Logan moved fast to hug and embrace his new, larger, bulkier boyfriend.  The man who once stood so tall to Sylvan, that Sylvan only came up to his chin, now only came to the top of Sylvan's chest, just under the top of the delts and under the shoulders completely.

 

Looking up to Sylvan, Logan smiled and said, "I... I can remember our past lives, how and when we met, what we did, but I can also remember a new history, too.  Like how I came on to you and the first time I ever took... that."  And Logan grabbed Sylvan's super schlong and gave it a squeeze. 

 

"I so want to recreate that night right now."

 

"Unfortunately, you can't go anywhere to do that.", announced Senator Roberts.  "Sylvan doesn't have any clothes with him.  For some reason, the magic didn't provide that." and Caleb sighed a small yet laughing sigh.

 

"Jameson..." said Senator Roberts to another one of his aide.  "Take Young Mr. Santini and his lover, Logan, upstairs to my secret room.  There they can enjoy the evening recreating the first penetration of Logan, while I send someone home to see if clothes were materialized there, as well as someone to head out to have something tailor made incase not."

 

And with that Logan escorted the nude Sylvan up to the secret, private room, while Senator Roberts and his husband,  went back home, via the back door, to work off their horniness upon seeing two men grow into great muscular, giant, brutes  Michael Santini felt completely fine the next morning and reported for bodyguard duty at Senator Roberts' house, but upon discovering it was Allyn and Michael's anniversary, he not only allowed Michael a couple of weeks off, but booked  a two week cruise for the couple.  Meanwhile Sylvan's history now had him belonging to a couple of athletic teams back at college, and he and Logan celebrate either of their or their teams' victories with a most intimate party for two... or sometimes three.... maybe four.... depending upon who is feeling randy, who wants to see the legend "at work", both of them having come out fully as being gay college athletes.

 

Thus proof of the phrase they say, "He who protests too much... ... ..."

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Great story, as always!

Somehow, at first I thought I had read Satani as in Satan/Satanic for the protagonist, which felt fitting since he was so mean at the begining hahaha

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