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Part 11: Rodrigo

 

Some time ago…

 

Rodrigo felt himself being shaken awake, and looked up groggily into the wide frightened eyes of Phil, on his knees next to him. “Roddy! RODDY!” he hissed. With the windows covered it was difficult to guess what time of day it was. He could only figure day or night. It was still dark out.

“I'm awake. What's wrong?” Rodrigo sat up.

“He's coming back!” Phil warned, pointing.

Even after all these weeks it was still disorienting to see the dimensions. He heard rattling keys in the door, and sighed. Phil was new, it was all very strange to him. “It's gonna be fine.”

“He's gonna kill me!” Phil whispered in a panic. “I can't do anything he's gonna fucking kill me!”

“You need to calm down, all right?” Rodrigo put a hand on his shoulder. “You're going to hyperventilate and we have no paper bags. Okay? It's going to be fine.”

The door swung open and the light shone in from the hallway, casting a looming shadow against the wall.

Phil scurried away from Rodrigo. There wasn't a great deal of space in the birdcage that served as their prison, and soon he was pressed up against the bars of the opposite wall, the crisscrossing shadows of the bars fluttering across his face.

Rodrigo stood up, wrapping the cut up face towel around his waist like a skirt. Some movement in the terrarium next to the birdcage caught his attention for a moment. He saw a leaf shuddering in the light from the door. It was probably the wind. She rarely moved when she didn't have to. She liked to hide in the dark and stay very still.

The door slammed shut and he only saw the hulking outline of their warden. He had applied a thin layer of cologne but it did little to cover his sweaty musk.

“What do you say?” it was a low grumble but in the silence of the room they heard it loud and clear.

Rodrigo sighed, but took a deep breath and called. “Welcome home, Master.”

“I can't hear you, slave!”

Rodrigo glanced at Phil. “He's terrified, Master. He's still learning.”

“He'd better learn fuckin fast,” the figure growled and approached the workbench. Rodrigo’s ears perked at muffled cries. He saw a shape in the Master's hand. He didn't need the light to know it was the same velvet Crown Royale bag he had seen the inside of his first night here.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

“Meet your need roommate, roaches,” the Master chuckled. He flicked on the swingarm lamp and Rodrigo blinked at the glare, only briefly seeing the round, grinning face looking over them before the Master turned the lamp to shine more directly on the birdcage, so as not to disturb the darkness in the terrarium. Rodrigo shadowed his eyes with his hand, holding the blanket with the other.

The Master pulled open the drawstring on the bag and an immediate hoarse cry of “What the fuck!” came out, followed by coughing and some indecipherable swearing.

The Master reached inside and the cries intensified. “No! NO! Get the fuck off me you fucking… NO!”

The thick hand withdrew from the bag awkwardly holding a struggling man about the torso, the same four inches tall that Rodrigo and Phil were. He was older than the Master's usual choices, probably in his fifties, he had a short beard and a crew cut that looked like he had dyed it black, if only from the white hair on his body. He was heavier too, an ample belly hanging out the bottom of the Master's hand. His one arm was restrained in the Master's grip, the other flailed about wildly along with the two legs hanging out under the hand, dick flopping about crazily.

“Be careful!” Rodrigo called. “Master!”

The Master opened up the birdcage and his captive began freaking out even more.

“No! No fucking way!” he squirmed in vain against the Master's hand. “Do not put me in there! Swear to fucking god!”

“Stop struggling!” Rodrigo shouted. “Just relax you'll be fine! Master, please!”

The man kept screaming “NO NO NO!” punching at the Master's fingers with his free hand but he may as well have been punching the sidewalk. But as the Master began to lower him towards the door, the man bit into the fleshy curve between his thumb and finger.

The Master recoiled and reflexively opened his hand. The man fell out of his fingers towards the opening. The Master tried to catch him with the other hand but it happened so quickly. His arm slammed into the bar surrounding the doorway with a crunch and he screamed in pain, spinning over as he fell through the opening.
Rodrigo dropped the towel and jumped out of the way to avoid him as he landed face-first on his clavicle before the rest of his body slammed down against the floor. The scream stopped abruptly. Rodrigo sat staring at him for a split second before lunging to his side. The man's arm was shattered, bent impossibly backward at the elbow and already bruised and swollen.

“Oh fuck please don't be dead…” Rodrigo prayed. But his eyes stared off into nothing and when Rodrigo put his hand to his neck to feel for a pulse he felt the broken spine shift under his flesh.

Phil suddenly vomited behind him, a streak of sickly ochre splattering across the particle board floor that had once been a clipboard.

The Master slapped the side of the cage, knocking Rodrigo backward. “Don't puke on the fucking clipboard that's what the space on the side is for you fucking idiot!” the Master snapped.

“Oh god oh god,” Phil groaned, rocking back and forth, staring at the corpse.

“You fucking killed him!” Rodrigo protested.

“HEY!” the Master pointed his meaty finger through the opening and Rodrigo flinched reflexively. “It's his own fault, you even warned him.”

“That doesn't…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” the Master bellowed. “You are fuckin NOTHING. I could smash you both into fuckin paste and no one would know or even care.”

Phil collapsed reared back, covering his face with his hands. “Oh god!”

“I said shut the FUCK up!” the Master repeated, and reached into the cage to give Phil an effortless swat to the chest. Phil fell to the ground, winded and coughing, grunting in pain.

The Master took the dead man’s unbroken arm and lifted him out of the birdcage, dangling like a rag doll from his fingers. He slid open the top of the terrarium and unceremoniously dropped the tiny corpse inside, closing it up afterwards. It landed with a soft thud on the potting soil in the middle of the terrarium.

“You're mine,” the Master spat through his teeth. “I can do whatever I want to you. You stupid fucks. You do what I tell you and be fucking GRATEFUL for the HONOUR of being my slaves or you'll end up in the same place as that dumb fuckin douche.”

The Master switched off the lamp and stomped out towards the door, muttering to himself. The light shone in from the other side of the door before the Master slammed it shut behind him.

Rodrigo crawled over to Phil, and put a hand to his chest. Phil winced and moaned.

“Nothing broken,” Rodrigo assured him. “We'll get it fixed.” He pressed his hand against Phil's chest. He could sense his pain, which was different then feeling it but it wasn't very pleasant. He felt the swelling go down, the pain recede, the wound disappear.

If only he'd survived the fall, Rodrigo could've saved him. That was the only reason the Master kept him around this long; to repair his favourite toys when he broke them. But sooner or later he'd go too far, play too hard, damage them beyond repair. And then…

Rodrigo stood up from Phil and padded across the clipboard to the other side of the cage. He peered into the terrarium. The outline of the corpse still lay in the middle of the stillness and silence. She hadn't come to claim him yet, but she would. She was content to sit in the dark, waiting and watching.

 

***

Some time later…

 

Phil thought back. “... so then, Ed Harris is like 'we got you at an elevated position, no one needs to die,' but the military guy starts shouting up to the soldiers 'you all swore oaths as United States marines! And I know the Pentagon shits all over us sometimes but that doesn't give you the right to mutiny!' But Ed Harris is all 'order your men to safety their weapons and drop them on the floor' and he's like 'I will not give that order!' and then they just keep shouting at each other 'give the order!' 'I will not give that order!'”

“Shit!” Rodrigo chuckled.

“Yeah,” Phil grinned. He glanced to the side and nodded towards the other end of the cage. “Hey. Think he's waking up.”

The prone form lying facedown in the corner groaned as if on cue. He was trying to get himself upright but finding it difficult. It was always like that at first. Rodrigo sighed and crawled up next to him. He rubbed his back gently. “Hey… take it easy okay? Things may be a bit of a shock.”

The guy was blonde, in decent shape. When he'd been deposited Rodrigo had thought his ass looked amazing though in the light of morning it looked only okay. He was gasping. “I… I can't breathe…”

“Try and take slow long breaths,” Rodrigo suggested. “It takes a few days for your lungs to adjust to breathing air at this size.”

“Size? What…?” the blonde guy looked up. There wasn't a lot of light coming in through the cracks around the wooden slates nailed around the windows but it was enough to illuminate a handsome, young face. His eyes went wide as he glanced frantically around the room. “Oh fuck the… where....” he pushed himself to his knees and saw that he was naked which only seemed to panic him more.

“Look seriously if you don't calm down you could pass out,” Rodrigo advised. “I'm Roddy. What's your name?”

The kid was still in shock, and shook his head.

“Look just tell me your name, okay?” Rodrigo persisted. “It'll help.”

He opened his mouth to speak but just gasped deeply, his eyes rolling back in his head, and fainted, collapsing onto Rodrigo.

“Shit,” he sighed.

Phil clapped his hands together. “So anyway, Nick Cage is all like…”

It was twenty more minutes before he came to. Rodrigo had stayed next to him and rubbed his back as he sat up.

“You gotta try and keep calm, all right?” Rodrigo advised softly. “I know it all seems crazy but put all that aside. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing, okay? You have to try and stay awake. Passing out like that is so bad for you.”

The kid raised his head with his eyes squeezed shut so hard it looked like he was wincing. “I have a headache.”

Rodrigo nodded. “It's the oxygen adjustment problem. You're gonna feel like shit for a couple days. Just don't exert yourself, keep yourself hydrated.” He paused. “I'm Roddy. Do you remember me telling you that?”

The kid nodded, then shook his head. “It seems like a dream.”

“The other guy in here is Phil,” Rodrigo continued.

“Hey,” Phil called idly from the other end of the cage.

Rodrigo smiled. “What's your name?”

“Blake…” he answered weakly. “Where… what's happening to me?”

“Well…” Rodrigo sighed. “Let's see. You've been kidnapped. We all have… and that's kind of the good news.”

“What?”

“We've been shrunk to I think like four inches tall,” Rodrigo explained. “That's just a guess I'm not totally sure. He doesn't let us measure ourselves.”

“How…” he looked up, opening his eyes and blinking, scanning the cage and the room outside it. “No. No. Fuck. This is just a nightmare.”

Rodrigo shook his head. “Nononono. Look at me, okay?” he shifted onto his knees in front of Blake. “Listen to me. You are wide awake and this isn't a dream. You need to accept that, because Blake? I'm not gonna lie. Our lives are in danger here and we have to keep it together.”

“Danger? Wait what?” Blake gripped Rodrigo’s arm. He could see the muscles in Blake's neck tightening up, his jaw going rigid.

“Yes,” Rodrigo put his hands on Blake's shoulders. “I need you to try and stay calm but this is too important to keep from you. Okay? Breathe.”

Blake had started to freak out again, and winced in pain as it aggravated his headache. “Fuck…” he mumbled. “What… what's gonna happen to me?”

There were so many options. Stomped on; smothered in an asshole; eaten alive; drowned in a toilet bowl… or left for Penny. The Master enjoyed subjecting his slaves to a variety of gruesome ends but lately he took an increasingly sadistic glee in watching them try to escape her, hide from her, even fend her off. Rodrigo had seen one tiny little man actually beg for mercy from her, but she had none to give. She regarded him with the same predatory indifference with which she saw everything that entered her domain.

Rodrigo's face had darkened and this did little to console Blake. He brought his knees up and put his head down, sobbing quietly.

“Look…” Rodrigo confided quietly, “I can't… he… just call him ‘Master' all the time. Do what he says. Don't try to be cute; don't make fun of him. He'll try to turn us against each other but you can't let him. He's a liar and a douchebag and a bully. We have GOT to trust each other or we'll all just go insane.”

“I've already gone insane,” Blake mumbled.

“You're not insane, Blake,” Rodrigo shook his head, “just unlucky.”

 

***

Some time even later but not quite at the present yet…

 

Phil had his hands clamped over his ears and was curled up in one corner of the cage, humming a monotone to himself as loud as he could muster. It was really grating but Rodrigo was willing to bear it. He was never in the same kind of danger that Phil or Blake were in. Rodrigo was the toy the Master could never replace. There was a limit to the extent he could leverage that but still…

The dimensions of the building they were in remained a mystery to them, but they were almost certainly in a garage or a workshed attached to a house. It was at least two stories tall and the Master's favourite room seemed to be directly above them, and the walls dividing them did little to mute his grunts and groans nor the banging of his headboard against the wall. Phil had mostly adjusted to his new tiny life but the sounds from the Master's room always threw him into a nearly catatonic state. Maybe it was the memories it conjured of his own tortures, for the Master had inflicted damage upon his little frame in the past that Rodrigo had barely been able to pull him back from. Or maybe it was the same uncertainty that weighed on Rodrigo’s mind: the uncertainty of whether or not Blake would come back at all. So many of them hadn't, or had returned so mangled all Rodrigo could do was watch them die. There hadn't been any deaths since the older man, but that had been an accident. An optimist might think the Master was finally getting over his bloodlust but Rodrigo knew better. The Master was never sated for long.
A loud cry announced the Master's climax, then there was more stomping around for a while. Rodrigo shook Phil out of his autohypnosis and the two waited on opposite sides of the birdcage for the Master to return.

“So you're a wizard too right?” asked Phil.

Rodrigo grimaced. “Not the kind of term I like to throw around, but okay, yeah.” He shrugged. “I can do magic.”

“Can you learn how to do what he does?” Phil tilted his head.

Rodrigo shook his head. “No. Not without help. Most of us can only focus on one… field, I guess. I only know how to heal people.”

“Do you think you could ever, like… turn it around? Like…” Phil made some strange hand gestures. “It's still the same idea, right? Just instead of giving something back you're taking it away.”

Rodrigo narrowed his gaze. “I don't hurt people, Phil.”

“Not even him?” Phil persisted. “After everything you've seen him do? Not even if it meant saving me or Blake?”

“You're not thinking this through,” said Rodrigo flatly. “Let's say we somehow managed to kill him. We're still stuck in this cage except now nobody's getting us food or water or cleaning the tray.” He sighed. “I've been here longer than you have and there's been smarter guys here before you. Smart guys don't last very long.”

“What if we…” Phil hesitated. “Has anyone tried talking to him? Maybe we could convince him to…”

“Look I don't know what goes on when he takes them away,” Rodrigo cut him off, “but if anyone's tried it it didn't go too well. Like… he's insane. You get that, right? He's a fucking psychopathic murderer.”

“But if the Master-”

“Don't!” Rodrigo pointed at him. “Don't fucking call him that when he's not here. He's not the master of fucking anything. Not you or me, not Blake, not even fucking Penny. I don't care how…”

The door swung open and the burly silhouette of the Master lumbered inside. Rodrigo and Phil shuffled to opposite corners. Sex only ever made the smell of the Master stronger. Even overwhelming at times; a sour onion smell of sweat and cum. It preceded him as he stomped over to the workbench, opened the cage, and carefully deposited the Crown Royale bag inside.

“Good luck,” he grunted, shrugging and wiping his nose as he turned to leave.

Rodrigo rushed up to the bag and fiddled with the drawstring. Phil had to help him pull the bag open and they could barely make him out, lying inside in the velvet shadows, twitching and moaning.

“His arm is arm is broken - the right arm,” warned Rodrigo. “You take his feet. Careful. Ready? One, two, and…” the two grunted and Blake whimpered as they lifted him out of the bag and onto the floor. His arm was dark purple and a sickly yellow, bending in strange ways. A similar bruise covered the whole right side of his torso and much of his thigh. One eye was swollen shut. Rodrigo could sense that some ribs were at least fractured and maybe broken, and his hip had been dislocated. Luckily there was no direct damage to his spine or his skull, which were the trouble spots. Rodrigo prognosed a full recovery but…there was still a long way to go. He bit his lip.

Blake was whining and trying very hard to stay still, but would twitch every now and then and let out a piercing wail. Rodrigo took Phil aside and explained what had to be done.

“...no matter how bad he screams, do not let him go,” Rodrigo reminded him.

Phil nodded. “I know.”

Rodrigo took a deep breath. “Okay. Let's do it.”

Phil got down in his knees at Blake's  head, pressing down gently on his shoulders. Blake winced at the touch but remained mostly still.

Rodrigo gently moved Blake's legs apart so he could straddle Blake's right thigh. He gripped Blake tightly around his left hip, grit his teeth, and gave a forceful punch to the left.

Blake's good eye shot open and he screamed in agony. He tried to sit up but Phil held him down. His first attempt having failed, Rodrigo gave the right hip a second punch with a little more power behind it, and exhaled with relief as he heard it chock back into place. Blake was less relieved, screaming through bloody, clenched teeth as he spasmed on the floor.

“Almost there, Blake,” Rodrigo assured him, squeezing the leg between his knees. He nodded at Phil, who pressed down harder, and Rodrigo grabbed Blake's wrist.

The ulna had broken but wasn’t too far out of place. The big problem was the humerus, which had broken clean away in one spot and cracked in another. The break was diagonal and the sharp pointed end of the bone had poked a hole in his tendon and threatened to pierce the skin from within. His powers to heal were formidable and anything short of death itself was within his ability to repair - including broken bones, but he couldn't compel them to right themselves. If he used his skills before setting a break, he could cause permanent damage that would need conventional surgery. And that meant…

Rodrigo yanked back on Blake's wrist as hard as he could and Blake screamed in furious pain until he was hoarse. With the arm stretched as far as he could pull it, he felt for the tip of the break with his fingertips and wriggled it back into place. Blake continued screaming until his eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out.

Phil looked up at Rodrigo in alarm, but he was more relieved than worried. “Check his pulse,” he said, more to reassure Phil han anything. An unconscious patient was much easier to work with.

“Get some water,” Rodrigo told Phil as he checked over Blake's body for anything he missed. Phil got up and went over to the hamster bottle hanging off the cage and filled one of the thimbles piled beneath it.

Technically speaking, Blake was dying, and his injuries were severe enough that even a trip to the ER (at regular size) was no guarantee. But Rodrigo was better than a fully-staffed state of the art hospital. Rodrigo had actually done more tissue damage setting his bones but wasn't that concerned. Tissue damage was no big thing. He could cure infections and draw toxins out of the system. Even major organs were becoming quick fixes (though collapsed lungs still confounded him). He supposed he had the Master to “thank” for that.

There was a trick to getting water from the dispenser. You put your finger in the nozzle and point your elbow down, holding the thimble beneath it.  There  were four thimbles and Phil filled all four, setting the first two on the clipboard next to Blake then handing Rodrigo one and keeping the last for himself.

When Rodrigo was confident he had righted all the broken bones, he took a big gulp of water and began healing him, occasionally scooping water out of a thimble to clean off some blood. The bones stitched themselves back together. The bruises grew lighter and finally disappeared. As Rodrigo finished by making the swelling go down around Blake's eye, he looked him over and allowed himself a moment of self-congratulatory pride. It looked like nothing had even happened to him. Expending those energies tool a lot out of him, and Rodrigo was overcome with a wave of exhaustion. By that point Phil had already wrapped himself in the torn facecloth and was curled up in a corner. Rodrigo pulled two of the makeshift blankets from where they hung between bars, and laid one over Blake. He refilled the thimbles and left them nearby.

The crumpled velvet bag looked inviting but it smelled awful and conjured memories of his first night there. He instead laid down next to Blake, and tried to get to sleep.

Rodrigo had a fitful sleep though, which was frustrating considering how tired he was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams and groggy half-awake visions of the dark room. He used these moments to glance at Blake and make sure he was still okay.

At one point though, he awoke and found Blake missing from beside him, and heard some strained grunting in the darkness. He managed to make the outline of Blake at the bars, trying to wrench them apart.

Rodrigo lifted his head. “Blake… it's no good, man. You need to sleep.” He paused, and heard Blake grunt as he made another attempt. “Blake, seriously, all you're gonna do is pull a muscle.”

Blake stopped, and whispered something but Rodrigo couldn't hear it. He rolled out from under the covers and stood, walking over to Blake. He touched his shoulder. “C’mon.”

“I can't do it anymore,” Blake whispered back. “I'm sorry. I can't. It just… I have to get out.” He yanked on the bars again.

Rodrigo put his hand on Blake's shoulder and tugged him away from the bars but Blake swatted him off and pulled at the bars again. “Blake, seriously, you're just gonna hurt yourself.”

“He told me he'd make me normal again,” Blake muttered. His hands still gripped the bars but his arms had relaxed. “He said he liked me and he'd make me normal and let me go if that's what I wanted. He asked…” he choked, and leaned his head against the bars.

Rodrigo had heard this story before. Warning them was no help. After all they'd gone through, who could deny the offer even knowing it was a lie?

“I thought I was gonna die…” Blake was shaking, his jaw shuddering, tears welling up in bloodshot eyes. “I can't do it again. I have to get out. What if…” he turned to Rodrigo. “I'll break enough bones to fit through the bars,” he leaned in, whispering. “You can heal me when I'm on the other side.”

Rodrigo shook his head. “No. There's so much that could go wrong and I have to set bones before I can heal them.”

“It's a bigger risk than staying?” Blake hissed. “Roddy I'm gonna fucking die here.”

“What'll you do on the other side?” Rodrigo gestured to the bars. “You think you'll make it far outside this house? We don't even know where we are. How will you even make it off the workbench?”

“Fucking christ, Roddy!” Blake's voice began to rise. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Just wait?” he fell to his knees. “I'm gonna fuckin die here.”

Rodrigo lowered himself to his knees and threw his arms around Blake, holding his head on his shoulder as he convulsed in quiet sobs. He rubbed Blake's back in silence, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. He saw Phil curled up in the corner. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like he had his eyes opened, and was staring at them.

“Don't bring me back,” Blake croaked hoarsely.

“Blake…”

Blake put his arms around Rodrigo and squeezed him close. “No, I can't. I can't,” he whispered frantically. “Next time just let it happen. Just let me go.”

Rodrigo's mouth hung open. “I…”

“You have to promise me.”

“I'm not gonna promise you that,” said Rodrigo quietly. “I'm sorry, I… you can't ask me to do that.”

“Roddy… please…”

Rodrigo rubbed his back. “Go to sleep, Blake. You need to rest.”

Blake returned to softly weeping as Rodrigo massaged his back. He looked down at Phil, who pulled up his blanket and turned away from them.

 

***


“They don't understand your superiority, Master. They don't want to be here.”

The Master lowered his gaze over his bulk to the tiny man sitting with his back against the Master's thick, stubby cock. Phil gyrated his back and ass against it, reaching his arms behind him to rub the shaft.

“You know I'm smarter than you, right?” the Master growled. “You know your brain’s like the size of a jellybean? You can't lie to me.”

“Master I'm not!” Phil implored, his eyes wide as he vigorously shook his head. “I wouldn't! I…”

Phil was smothered by a thick gigantic hand that wrapped around the shaft and squeezed Phil against the cock that was bigger than his whole body. “You think this is some power struggle for roaches? You think I have one of you I like best? You're all the same. Nothing. Lower than scum. I could fuckin… I could fuckin toss you in the garbage or… or put you in the toaster! You'd pop like a corn kernel.” He lifted his hand off, leaving Phil coughing and gasping for breath.

He sputtered for a moment but soon regained himself. “Master I know! I know what I am now. What we all are to you. The whole world should be yours to play with. Whole civilizations should strive to pleasure you!” To emphasize his point Phil climbed to his feet, rubbing his ass along the Master's rigid dick. The Master groaned, his cock twitching in response, and Phil shuddered with delight. “They're still stuck in their old lives, Master. They haven't seen.”

The Master narrowed his eyes, his jaw protruding with suspicion. “What are they saying?”

“Blake wants to leave. It's all he talks about,” Phil reported. “Roddy discourages him. He's very practical, like you said.”

The Master nodded. “You asked him what I told you to?”

Phil nodded vigorously. “Of course, Master! I do everything you tell me too?”

“Well…?” the Master asked impatiently.

Phil shook his head. “He can't use his powers to hurt you. But he says he would never hurt anyone, including you.”

The Master nodded. “Good, good…” the Master laid back contentedly, adjusting his bulk in his worn leather chair. Phil fell over into the carpet of his pubic hair from the treasure, but righted himself. The Master sighed. “I like you,” he noted nonchalantly, much of the harsh edge gone from his voice.

Phil looked up at him, beaming though a bit flustered. “I'm… honoured, Master!”

“You know I have great powers, don't you?” the Master asked. “I can do almost anything.”

“I… well I…” Phil stammered. “I never knew for certain but I always believed. You're like a god, Master!”

The Master chuckled with amusement. “I could return you to normal,” he said. “I might even release you. You've served me so well, perhaps you DO deserve a reward. Would you like that? Is that what you want?”

Phil blanched. “Wait, but don't I… don't I still please you? I mean…” he shook his head. “Do I… are you bored with me?”

The mirth drizzled out from the Master's eyes. “I've offered you a reward. You'd deny it?”

“I… Master of course you…” Phil struggled to find words, his breath coming in panicked gasps. “Master, you know better than I do and… and if you think I could serve you better at my… in my old life… then I will do it for you but…” he shook his head. “I know now that this is where I was meant to be! I never want to leave you, Master… I wouldn't know what to do!”

The Master smiled across his round face. “I'm so happy to hear that.”

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22 hours ago, Aronymous said:

I'm so lost.

There are for sure a lot of names and characters to keep track of. It's good because the story is rich and complex for it but can make it hard to follow.

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Part 12: Tyson

Act I: Morning

 

Tyson awoke from a mediocre dream to a loud banging on his front door. His bedside clock informed him in angry red digits that it was 9:37 AM; nearly an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He grabbed his phone off the table next to it. In what had become a regular morning ritual for him he checked his messages. One from work, one from a hook-up, but nothing from the only guy he really wanted to hear from. He sighed, and tossed it back on the table.

There was a banging at his door again, accompanied by the shrill voice of his landlord. “Mister Tyson? You home?”

Tyson rolled his eyes. His rent was paid so whatever it was could wait. “Fuck off, Marie,” he grumbled quietly, pulling his sheets up and turning over, ignoring another harsh knock on the door.

The sound of a key turning in his lock, however, got his eyes wide open. “What the fuck, Marie?” he shouted, scrambling out of his mattress and quickly slipping into yesterday's underwear still hanging off the arm of his couch.

The door opened and he heard footsteps coming into his apartment. “Marie,” he yelled. “I was slee…” he stopped short.

Marie was there, but was standing on her toes to peek over the shoulders of the two people in front of her. The man was a uniformed cop, kinda short and skinny but bulked out some by the kevlar vest over his shirt. The woman wasn't in uniform but he could've guessed she was a cop even before  she started fishing her badge out of her pocket. She stood a head taller than the man, was a bit heavyset, and dressed in a clean cut business suit under a light jacket.

“Tyson Chandler?” she asked, opening her wallet but holding it against her side as if it was going to be a big surprise.

“Uhh…” Tyson glanced back at his room and the cocaine dust all over his bedside table. “What are you doing in my home?” he asked.

“So you are Tyson Chandler?” the uniform asked in a more irritated tone.

The woman held up her hand to silence him and cleared her throat. “Mister Chandler I'm Detective Shannon Demuth and this is Officer Richard Furyk,” she showed her credentials. “You're not in any trouble we'd just like to ask you some questions.” She turned to Marie. “Thanks Miss Yoon but you can wait outside.”

Marie looked disappointed and shot Tyson a suspicious scowl but did as she was told, closing the door behind her.

Detective Demuth turned back to him with a sigh. “Would you like to get dressed, Mister Chandler?”

Tyson finished hooking up the blanket which served as a divider for his bed from the living room. “Why, am I goin’ somewhere?” he asked, sitting down on the couch.

The two cops exchanged irritated looks. Demuth took out a notepad and produced an expensive-looking pen from her jacket. “Are you familiar with a young man named Blake Ouilette?”

Tyson shook his head. “Nope… Oh,” he started, feeling his cheeks get hot. He looked up at the detective. “Blake?”

“So you do know him,” Furyk retorted.

“I... I didn't know his last name,” Tsyon mumbled.

Furyk chuckled to himself and shook his head at the floor.

Tyson knew he should be indignant but his imagination was spiraling out of control. “What… why are you…”

Demuth flipped a page backwards and reviewed her notes. “You were seen leaving your place of work with him the night of... April twenty-second. Is that accurate?”

Was he dead? Tyson put a hand over his mouth and felt tears welling up.

“How would you characterize your relationship with Blake Ouilette?” Demuth pressed. “How did you meet him?”

“Is he…” Tyson felt a hot tear slip out of his eye and down his cheek. All those awful things he'd thought; Blake was a phony and he'd just been another lay. In spite of everything he felt. He had felt so betrayed. “Did you…”

“Mister Ouilette didn't show up for his scheduled shift at his place of business the following day,” Demuth explained. “His parents later filed a missing person report. Have you had any contact with him since the twenty-second of April?”

Tyson shook his head, his mouth still clamped over his mouth.

“Can you describe your encounter the night of the twenty-second?” asked Demuth.

He nodded, but didn't say anything, sitting in silence for a moment.

“Mister Chandler?”

“We met at the bar,” Tyson whispered through his hand.

“Could you repeat that?” Demuth flipped back to an empty page.

Tyson took his hand away and sniffed, folding his arms across his chest. “He… he had ditched his friends or… they had ditched him I'm not sure.”

“Do you remember their names?” asked Demuth.

Tyson shook his head. “He hung around til my shift was over…”

“This is at the Black Eagle?” Demuth clarified.

“Yeah. Then we came back here - we took a cab - and we... “ he shrugged, “y’know…”

Furyk frowned but Demuth was unfazed. “He stayed through the night?”

Tyson nodded. “it was starting to get light out when he left. Maybe six?”

“Did you walk him out or…?”

“No…” but he should have.

“Did anyone else see you two together?” asked Furyk.

“I… a couple of people living in the building, I guess. I… don't know their names.”

“He didn't leave anything behind? Maybe something you found later?” Demuth suggested.

“No,” Tyson replied. “He… didn't have much with him, I don't think.”

“Did he say anything about leaving town?” asked Furyk.

Tyson shook his head.

Demuth looked up from scribbling on her pad. “Did you make plans to see each other again?”

Tyson shrugged. “Yeah… well no. Kind of. It was kinda up in the air.”

“Is there anything else you can think of that might indicate his current whereabouts?”

His current whereabouts… oh god, Blake, PLEASE be all right. “No,” Tyson croaked, “nothing.”

“I'd like to get your phone number,” said Demuth. “In case we have to contact you again. Is that all right?” Tyson nodded and mumbled his number offhandedly while Demuth jotted it down. “Thank you, Mister Chandler,” Demuth gave him a stern nod and pulled a business card out of her wallet. She set it on the coffee table. “If you think of anything else please give me a call.”

She turned to leave and Furyk gave her a nod. “We good?”

Demuth sighed impatiently. “Yes, Rick,” she gestured pointedly at the door.

Tyson heard them shuffle out and the door close behind them. It was nearly two months. Blake had been missing for two months. Tyson had been so pissed off at him for weeks, to the point that he had wanted Blake to send him a text just so Tyson could tell him off. The anger had gone away, mostly, and that void just got filled with melancholy.

Tyson reached through the edge of the divider and picked his phone up. He scrolled through two months of messages until he found Blake's contact, and a single text: Get home safe.

It was so creepy Tyson dropped his phone. He curled up on his couch, hugged his knees to his chest, and stared at the business card on his coffee table.

Demuth and Furyk were meanwhile delayed in the lobby while Marie listed off all the tenants she was convinced were drug dealers, pimps, and what she called “e-pirates.” Demuth diplomatically assured her they'd look into it and they made a hasty retreat.

“He's definitely hiding something,” Furyk grumbled.

Demuth sighed as she got in the car. “Rick, we barged into his apartment while he had drugs all over the place. I think you're misreading him.”

“So, wait - he's not a suspect?” asked Furyk, starting the car.

“We don't have a crime yet,” Demuth reminded him. “But I severely doubt he had anything to do with it.”

“He got pretty nervous when you mentioned Blake,” Furyk noted as he pulled out of the lot.

"He was upset, Rick. He just found out his friend has been missing for weeks.”

Furyk chuckled. “‘Friend,’” he mused. “They knew each other for what, three hours?”

Demuth shook her head. “Don't get distracted by him. He's just a kid.”

“He's what, twenty-five?” Furyk stopped for a red light. “Plenty old enough for murder.”

Demuth rolled her eyes. “Let's take that word out of our vocabulary until there's a body, all right? This is a missing person.”

Furyk nodded. “Two months, Shan.”

“It's a missing person, Rick. Work the case we have.”

Furyk grumbled something and stepped on the gas as the light turned green.

 

***

Mahtab brushed hair out of her face and poured a cup of coffee for herself. You need to start getting more sleep, she reminded herself, as she often did. But her progress had been so slow going every hour she could squeeze out of the day made a difference.

She plodded back to her office, setting down her coffee. There was a Facebook message waiting for her.

Guess who I ran into last night, it read next to Corey's irritating glamour shot.

Oh right, it was Pride, she remembered. She typed back: Someone i’ve never heard of from big brother

She took a small sip of coffee and had burned her tongue when she saw the response.

Lol I wish

Cassidy fuckn hamilton

Mahtab put the cup on her desk and spilled hot coffee on her hand. She sucked her teeth and wiped it off with a kleenex, anxiously watching the animated ellipsis that followed “Corey is typing…”

Finally it popped up: Omg hes so fuckd hr was being such a duche

She quickly typed out: wat happened???

I'll tell you later, he replied.

Fuck that, Mahtab thought, and spent the next few minutes frantically searching for her phone, which she found next to the coffee machine. She found Corey in her contacts and dialed.

The first try went to voicemail so she hung up, darted back into the office to type: pick up your fuckin phone!!!!, and tried again.

“What are you, on fire or something?” asked Corey after answering the call.

“What happened with Cassidy?” Mahtab barked.

“Whoa! What -”

“It's important, Corey!” she stressed. “I need you to tell me. What did he say?”

Corey sighed. “It turns out we have a mutual friend. Or Adam does, I guess. God you should've seen him. He looked ridiculous. It was embarrassing.”

“Be specific, Corey.”

“Cassidy had done his thing on him. Oh fuck, and then? He did it to this other guy AT THE BAR.”

Mahtab rested her phone on her shoulder and searched for Russell on Facebook. “Cassidy was using his powers in public?”

“Ugh, don't say ‘powers' it sounds so retarded.”

“Corey!”

“YES! Oh my god!” Corey shrieked. “I let him have it, though. I told him he was being a total tool. Him and his little club. It's so stupid.”

“What do you mean, ‘club?’” asked Mahtab as she typed a message to Russell: Cass is practicing in public

“Oh well they told this other couple. Civies. He was doing his thing on them and I'd be amazed if it was the first time.”

Has already told civilians, she typed to Russell.

“Where was this, at a Pride thing?” she asked.

“Yeah a bar in the east end. I was doing a show… which I invited you to,” Corey acidly reminded her.

“So it was in the city,” Mahtab noted. “Do you know if he stayed with his friends?”

“No, I dunno… oh wait. He was supposed to but they got a hotel…” Corey paused. “What's with you why do you care?”

Mahtab stopped typing mid-message and picked her phone back up in her hand. “Okay look,” she started, “Corey I know how this is going to sound but I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh my god can you seriously lose the drama?”

“Corey I'm serious. Cassidy is dangerous. If you see him, avoid him. If he comes to your house do not let him in, and call me. If you know any wards, use them. Do not tell anyone else about this… or have you already?”

“No. Is…” Corey seemed at a miraculous loss for words. “Mahtab you're scaring me.”

“Everything's going to be all right I just need you to do what I'm telling you, all right?” Mahtab said as calmly as she could.

“Yeah okay,” Corey finally answered.

“Look I have to go,” said Mahtab. “I'm not trying to freak you out. If you think you need help just tell me where you are and I'll be there.”

“Okay…” said Corey. “Bye.”

“See ya,” Mahtab hung up.

Russell still hadn't seen or responded to her messages. She quickly sent all the pertinent information.

He's staying at a hotel maybe

Corey knows something's up but i didnt get specific

Mahtab took a sip from her coffee, hoping Russell was available. If they were at a hotel it was a perfect chance they might not get for a long time. Her computer chirped announcing a new message from Russell.

Get here asap

Mahtab wondered if she could take the half pot of coffee she had just made but figured it was probably a bad call. Instead she took an unpleasant gulp from her mug and quickly got dressed, grabbed her jacket from off a hook on the wall, made sure her wallet was still in there, put her phone in her pocket and took a step back. She put her hands in her coat pockets and closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped into the air.

And with a gusty snap, she was gone.

 

***

Adam scrabbled through the pile of clothes next to the bed until he heard coins jingling. Is three dollars a good tip? He wondered to himself. It didn't sound like one in his head. But if you're at a fancy hotel are you expected to tip more, or less? He fished out a five dollar bill and returned to the bellman. He'd try to read his face and then maybe he'd know for next time.

The bellman, however, was no help, as he was confused and distracted by a uniform that fit more snugly than it had a minute ago. It took him a second to notice the offered bill.

“Oh!” he took it with a smile and nod. “Thank you, sir!”

“Thanks,” Adam replied, and closed the door as the bellman departed.

Cassidy was inspecting the plates on the trolley. “This one's yours,” he tapped one plate cover and took the other.

“Yeah…” Adam slowly approached the cart. “Did you, umm…” he pointed at the door with his thumb, “beef up the bellboy?”

Cassidy held his plate aloft as he climbed back into bed. He chuckled. “If I had a dollar every time I got asked that…”

“Seriously, Cass,” said Adam uncertainly, taking the cover off his own plate.

Cassidy shrugged, munching a bite of toast. “He was cute… thought I'd give him an extra tip,” he winked.

“Cass…” Adam chided. “I think you might be going a little overboard…”

Casidy rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, seriously? Is this because of Corey last night?”

“No,” Adam retorted, annoyed. “Look, it's one thing to do it with our friends and people who already know, but total strangers? Shouldn't we be keeping a low profile? I feel like it's bad enough we keep coming and going at different sizes.”

Cassidy curled his lip. “Y'know what, Adam? I gotta say I'm kinda getting a bit tired of this bullshit.”

Adam raised his eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Cass shook his head, held the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god. Sorry. Nevermind. Look I'm just hungover. I don't want to get into a thing.”

Adam sighed. “All right… but let's just rein it in some, okay?”

“Fuck!” Cassidy tossed his fork down on his plate with a clatter. “Can you not? Seriously?”

“Cass, come on! We can't just go around…”

Cassidy threw up his hands. “Oh my god! Whenever it's just you and me you can’t get enough and you're like totally on board, but the second someone comes along and is all like ‘oh I don't know’ it’s like you can't change your tune fast enough.”

Adam held up his hands defensively. “I'm still on board, Cass. I'm just saying we gotta take it easy.”

“Oh my god. Adam,” Cassidy shifted on the bed so he could look at him more directly, “what do you think is gonna happen?”

“What do mean what's gonna happen?” Adam snapped. “People will find out! We'll get caught!”

“And then we get arrested for, like, being too awesome?” Cassidy shrugged. “We're not doing anything wrong!”

“Cass, jesus, it doesn't matter whether it's right or wrong, it's just…” Adam floundered. “Look I don't know what would happen but neither do you! What's the big deal with flying under the radar like we've been doing?”

“Fucking god, Adam!” Cass snapped. “What happened to being big full time? It's what you want!”

“I don't know what I want!” Adam protested. “It's a big decision, Cass, and it's my life that'll be all fucked up, not yours.”

“That is such fucking bullshit - I can't even…” Cassidy shook his head. “Y'know what? I need some air.” He hopped to his feet and slipped out of his bathrobe, angrily dressing himself.

Adam sighed. “Cass, c'mon. Let's talk about this. Don't be such a fucking child.”

Cassidy stood up straight with his pants halfway up his legs. “All right, look. We're not talking we're just shouting at each other. We can pick it up later if you still like, have your head up your ass.”

“You're so fucking ridiculous sometimes,” Adam grimaced at him.

Cassidy buckled up his belt and grabbed his wallet from the dresser. “Well,” he skirted past Adam and opened the door, “life can be sometimes ridiculous,” he quipped, and slammed the door behind him.

 

***

Ayush groaned through a headache. The light shining through his eyelids was glaring enough, so he refused to open them. He drew his blankets up to his face. Wait… those weren’t his blankets. Ayush carefully peeled his eyes open and let the Gaussian blur harden into a discernible image. He was in somebody else’s bedroom - someone who had never bothered to get curtains. He closed his eyes again and tried to think back to the night before. Drinking, fucking, drinking, smoking pot, fucking, drinking, fucking, fucking. There may have been a bump of coke in there somewhere too. It was hard to separate them all or develop a coherent timeline, especially since so much of it must’ve been a dream, since obviously his cock didn’t grow into a footlong fuckrod in the span of one blowjob. That’s just silly. Ayush groaned and turned onto his side, trying to escape the light coming in from the window, and felt something slap against his thigh. His eyes shot open, staring at the wall. He slowly turned onto his back again, and felt it slide up his leg. He took a breath, gulped, and lifted the covers to look down at himself.

His soft cock lolled lazily against his stomach, longer than he had ever seen it hard (before last night) and thick as a salami. He dropped the covers back and stared at the ceiling. It had all been real? It didn’t make any sense. What was happening to him?

Ayush was startled by a groan coming from beside him, and turned to see a form stirring under the covers. Who had taken him home? He got his answer as the form turned over and greeted him with a smirk. “Sup, bro?”

Ayush tried to hide his disappointment. It was fucking Chinstrap. “Hey…” he forced a smile. “Uhh… morning.”

“Mmm…” Chinstrap (oh fuck what was his name?) slipped his hand over Ayush’s chest, and pulled himself closer, kissing him on the cheek. “S’good to see you.” He moaned and ran his hand down Ayush’s abs til he felt his cock in his hand. “Fuck dude. I still can’t get over this dong… you’re so fuckin big, bro. It’s fuckin epic.”

As bad as he felt both for going home with Chinstrap and forgetting his name, it was hot to hear someone talk about how big he was without it dripping with sarcasm. You’re a big guy now, Ayush, he told himself. However it happened - who cares how it happened? - it happened, so own it. Ayush stretched an arm up, putting his hand behind his head. “Yeah it’s… pretty great.”

“Pretty great? Fuck dude. Legit. You ever been with anyone bigger? That’s thing’s a fuckin monster,” Chinstrap lifted the cover and peered down at it. “Fuck… how big does it get?”

“I’m, uhh… not sure,” Ayush replied sincerely. His memories were so jumbled from last night.

Chinstrap grinned like a doofus and began stroking Ayush’s cock. “Let’s figure it out, bro.”

Ayush was about to protest but it already felt so good and he had to admit he was curious too. So instead he pushed himself back up the bed, until he was in a sitting position with his back against the wall. “Go for it, bro,” he said with a smirk.

Chinstrap returned the smirk, throwing the covers off and sliding up next to Ayush. Even without his glasses Ayush could tell this guy was in incredible shape. He wasn't that big but he was cut like glass, and as he moved his body up against Ayush's he could feel how hard it was. He'd never been with someone with that kind of physique before and it was actually kind of weird. A hot brodude built like a marble statue was giving him a sloppy hicky while getting his cartoonishly oversized cock to full mast. Ayush felt like he must be dreaming or in a coma or… drugged or trapped in a virtual reality porno. It was so absurd but it felt so real and SO good. Ayush brought his arm up and put his hand on Chinstrap’s back, felt the grooves of his ripped lats. He grunted and pushed his head back, looking up at the ceiling but as he felt Chinstrap's hand over his unsheathed head he glanced back down and his eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.

His cock had engorged to ridiculous proportions. It was rigid enough to make Ayush think it was done but given the kind of day he was having it wouldn't have surprised him if it got even bigger. Chinstrap chuckled. “Fuck bro when's it funna let up?”

Funna? Ayush thought briefly, before his hot pulsating cock got his attention again. “It's as big as it's gonna get,” he grunted with only moderate confidence.

“It's plenty,” Chinstrap assured him with a laugh. He marveled again at the pillar sticking up from Ayush's crotch. “Here…” Chinstrap pulled Ayush's hand from his back and  set it on his own cock. “Just a sec.”

Chinstrap rolled out of bed and rummaged around his messy room, occasionally giving a stroke to his own erect cock sticking a respectable five or six inches from his crotch. Ayush wondered what he was looking for but only for a brief moment before his attention was once again commandeered.

Fuck this cock felt so fantastic. Was it the larger cock or the bigger balls that made everything seem so much more electric, he wondered. Every stroke and squeeze sent bliss seeping up his spine and through his veins. He wasn't sure how long he could hold out before spraying jizz all over this guy's room.

Chinstrap hopped back into bed equipped with a plastic ruler. He held it up next to Ayush's erect dick, briefly alarming him with its edge. Ayush had to stop himself from scoffing. The ruler was a foot long and his cock stretched beyond its length. Well beyond; by at least an inch and maybe two.

Chinstrap was less compelled to hide his awe. “Holy effin’ shit!” he gaped, tossing the ruler aside and going back to stroking his cock. “Bro how do you even go out in public?”

“Good question,” said Ayush, and Chinstrap laughed. He did recall several instances from last night of his junk being crushed by too-tight undies and jeans. Whatever. He'd deal with it. Maybe there was a big dick equivalent of a big and tall shop.

Ayush breathed out a moan and clamped his hand onto Chinstrap's shoulder.

Chinstrap was smiling. “How's that?” he asked quietly.

Ayush nodded. “Good. That feels real fucking good.”

“Dude I can't believe this wang,” Chinstrap continued to marvel. “Legit, bro. And on a guy your size? I mean, y'know. No offense, bro,” he shrugged apologetically, then smiled. “Must give guys heart attacks.”

Ayush moaned and slid his hand up Chinstrap's back until he reached his neck, and gently pushed him down onto his cock. Still working the shaft with his hand, Chinstrap took the head in his mouth and puckered his lips at the corona. Ayush gasped and clawed at a clump of blankets as he felt pre running down his shaft. Chinstrap scooped it up in his hand and used it for lube. Ayush couldn't help but grin as he noticed Chinstrap couldn't close his hand around his penis. I'm such a fucking stud, he thought to himself with a smirk, and leaned his head back against the wall.

“I'm gonna… fuck…” Ayush moaned. “Keep going…”

Chinstrap bobbed his head up and down and Ayush felt the pressure building throughout his cock. Either Chinstrap was a blowjob savant or Ayush's cock had improved in more ways than just size. The pleasure was almost paralyzing.

His whispered announcement of “I'm coming” came out a second after it was already wetly obvious. He looked down and saw Chinstrap gagging on the biggest load he'd ever seen. He released in three overflowing loads, each accompanied by an enthusiastic grunt. There was jizz everywhere. Chinstrap was trying to keep the mess contained but there was too much for him and it ended up all over his chest and arms.

“Fuck, bro!” he giggled as the final torrent subsided. He hopped off the bed with his arms held up and grabbed a towel from out of his closet. “Dude where's it all come from?”
Ayush didn't reply; he wasn't really listening. He let himself sink back against the bed, putting his hands up to his face and exhaling as he felt his cock sink back against his crotch like a coiling python.

“You got any plans today, bro?” asked Chinstrap after tossing the cumsoaked towel in his hamper. “Like, you feel like getting some food? There's this legit brunch place just down…”

“Y'know I uhh… do. Have some things to do, I mean,” Ayush answered. “I'm good to just lie here for a bit.”

“Oh…” Chinstrap looked a bit confused, then softened into a grin as he fell into bed next to Ayush, snuggling close against him. Ayush put his arm around his shoulder. It wasn't totally what he had in mind, but whatever.

 

***

Cassidy set the empty flute back on the bar and watched the yellow bubbles slide down the side of the glass. He swiveled his eyes towards the middle-aged bartender, who probably noticed him looking over at her but went on inspecting wine glasses coming out of the dishwasher and hanging them upside down on racks above the bar.

He sighed and leaned in, smiling politely. “Excuse me?”

She nodded in his direction but finished another glass before coming over. She said nothing, but stood there expectantly.

“Another mimosa please?” he asked, sliding the empty glass towards her.

She collected the empty. “Sure thing. Think you might wanna get something to eat? It's, like, twelve-thirty. Might wanna…” she trailed off and shrugged.

Cassidy resisted the urge to heave an exaggerated sigh, and nodded. “Yeah… y'know what I think I'll just grab the bill.”

She smiled. “Sure thing, hon,” she sauntered back to the till.

A good rule of thumb he had learned from an alcoholic ex was when the bar begins hinting you've had enough it's time to find a new bar. Besides, the hotel lounge didn't even have taps going til after four. She gave him a sincere but self-satisfied smile as she handed him his receipt, like she had prevented him from making a big mistake.
Shows what you know, he thought to himself as he plugged his PIN into the card machine.

Cassidy wasn't wasted by any means but was pleasantly buzzed as he left the hotel bar, hands in his pockets, making his way to Church Street where the bartenders were hopefully more lax on their half-lectures; particularly to guys who looked like they just had an argument with their boyfriend-and/or-husband.

“Cassidy? Hey! Cassidy?”

The shout came from the other side of the street and Cassidy looked over at the blonde guy waving at him. He was in the middle of asking himself Who the fuck are you supposed to be? when he realized it was Drew with a slightly different hairstyle.

He waited for a break in traffic before jogging across the street. Cassidy sighed, and paused to wait for him.

“Hey man,” Drew greeted him with a smile. “How was your night?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I dunno. Like, fine.” He shrugged, and nodded east, starting to walk. “We just got back to our room and went to bed.”

Drew fell into step next to him. “Cool. Us too, pretty much.” He paused, then added: “I just got a haircut.”

“Looks great,” Cassidy mumbled.

“Where…” Drew stopped himself. “Is, uhh… everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah… Like, I dunno. Probably.” Cassidy sighed. “Adam and me just had, like, I dunno… a bit of a thing.”

“Oh. Do you…” Drew floundered a bit. “Like, you want me to…” he stuck his thumb out in the air behind him.

“Oh no - like, I'm sure it's fine. He just gets like, agitated at Pride.” Cassidy rolled his eyes. “Apparently.”

“Are you…” Drew glanced up ahead. “Where are you going?”

Cassidy shrugged again. “Dunno. Was gonna just like, go to Church and get a drink.”

“Ah,” Drew nodded amicably, then shook his head. “Nope; look,” he grabbed Cassidy's arm and yanked him in the opposite direction, gesturing with a nod. “Church is a circus. This way.”

Cassidy paused. “Look, like, I'm not really, y'know.” He sighed. “Like, no offense? I just kinda wanted to be alone.”

“For sure dude,” Drew nodded. “Okay look. You go to Church, alone, during pride, you will get hit on. Even if you look glum and brooding… actually, especially if you look glum and brooding.”

Cassidy began walking west as indicated. “All right, well like, lead on I guess.”

They walked together without words for a few blocks when Drew decided to fill the silence. “So I just got my haircut, right? And like, I don't really know what to do there. As far as like, talking goes. Mostly I just sit there and do as I'm told and like, I answer questions they have about what I'm after and that's pretty much it. I'm not super into small talk. And I can never read the stylist. I'm like, is it a chore to have to do this all the time? Just… construct these, like, single-serving relationships with people just cuz they happen to be attached to the hair you're trying to fix. Or are they INTO that?”

Cassidy shrugged. “It varies, I imagine.”

“Probably true,” Drew nodded. “So anyway: I'm at this place today and it's like, a big salon and my hairdresser takes me to her chair, and as she starts in on my hair she starts talking to one of the other stylists about her very recent very big deal break up with her boyfriend. I think.”

“Oh my god details,” Cassidy pressed.Drew shook his head. “Well it was old news, the other stylist already knew all about it. But like, the whole time I'm just sitting there and she's all: ‘I just wanna go home and slit my wrists.’”

“Cheery,” Cassidy chuckled.

“And it just goes on, right?” Drew continued. “And like, it sounds like this guy did something on Facebook or… I dunno. Something public. Like, he broadcasted it before she wanted everyone to know. And I'm like, do I weigh in? Is this... medium-talk that I'm supposed to engage with or am I just like, furniture in this scenario?”

“Sounds awkward,” Cassidy observed.

“Yes. Very,” Drew agreed. “So I'm sitting there, just listening, and I start preparing like, a chime-in… like, nothing even specific just some kind of sassy… ‘Mmmm-hmm!’ or like ‘Preach, sister!’ or some shit like that.”

Cassidy grinned. “Like, some foxy black momma one-liner.”

Drew nodded judiciously. “Yes. Well they're the masters, you might as well go for the gold.” He sighed. “Anyway the story ends with me just chickening out and not even saying that.”

“Oh my god what a punchline,” Cassidy laughed.

“Okay but my question is this,” Drew raised his finger. “Is she an unprofessional hairdresser or am I an unaccommodating… hairdressee?”

Cassidy shrugged. “Probably both.”

Drew smiled. “Yeah that's the kind of thing Jamie says. If you're asking who was awful between the two of you the answer is probably both of you because everyone is awful all the time.”

“Oh wow. Zen.” Cassidy chuckled.

Drew put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah well… he sure likes saying words, that Jamie.”

They fell silent again and continued along the sidewalk.

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Part 12: Tyson

Act II: Noon

 

“Wait a second…” Paul looked up from the keg, “this is the guy with the black eye?” he fastened the line into place and rose to his modest height, dusting his hands off.

Tyson stood a foot taller than him. “No, you weren't working that night. And it was his only time here.” They navigated around each other in the cramped cellar and climbed the stairs back up to the bar. “I mentioned him… at the time.”

Thanks to Pride, the bar was busier than usual for a Thursday afternoon but was still pretty quiet. Paul had plugged in his ipod and was playing early nineties easy listening.
Paul washed his hands thoughtfully. “Who had the black eye, then?”

Tyson sighed. “Blair.”

“Ahh,” Paul smiled wistfully. “Lord he was ever cute.”

“Paul…” Tyson whined.

“Okay so Blake… riiiiiiight, little miss Frank and Oak. The hookup to end all hookups,” Paul got them back on track. “...is missin'.”

“Is, like, POLICE missing,” Tyson stressed. “I've been thinking about him all day. I know it's so stupid to…”

“All right now stop it,” Paul chided, “you're not being stupid it's just… d'ya know anything about this guy? What's he do?”

Tyson shook his head, feeling embarrassed. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.

“All right, well,” Paul gesticulated. “Look, you're not being foolish to worry about 'im. I mean, obviously. I'm just sayin, maybe he's the kind of guy who, y'know… goes missing.”

“What does that even mean?” Tyson protested.

Paul was about to answer when Daniel strode up to the bar. “How's me boys?”

“Good,” Paul smiled politely, grabbing him a bottle of Keith’s. “I'm so tired, but pretty good.” He twisted off the cap and set the bottle down in front of him.

“An’ Tyson?” Daniel nodded at Tyson, picking up the bottle. “Seem a bit gloomy.”

He shrugged. “Yeah I just… got some bad news.” He pushed himself off the wall and jerked his bangs out from his eyes. He managed a civil grin. “I'm fine. Cliff running late?”

“Called in sick,” Daniel growled.

“Shit,” Paul shook his head. “So it's just you tonight?”

Daniel sighed. “Left message with that boy Hugo. Won't be no trouble neither way.” He took a swig of beer, nodding to Paul. “Thanks,” he grumbled, and went back towards the patio.

“Look Ty, I'm not trying to give you a hard time but I mean, y'know… it was a hookup,” Paul shrugged uneasily. “I know it can…”

“I know, man, I know,” Tyson silenced him impatiently. “I just… it felt… more important and like, sincere.”

“Well, maybe it was,” Paul proposed quietly. “Things… aren't always that… I dunno. Straightforward.” He sighed. “Look either way it sounds like you were a total gentleman or whatever… I'm just sayin’ whatever happened you didn't do anything wrong. I hate to say it like this but y’know… maybe you should just, y'know… forget about 'im.”

Tyson groaned. “Don't say that, man…”

“Well I mean bloody look at you,” said Paul, gesturing at Tyson. He had raised his voice and a couple of patrons glanced over at them, so Paul moved in closer and said quietly. “I'm just sayin, you're beating yourself up over… I don't even know, love. It's just not healthy.”

Tyson nodded. “I guess…”

“It's Pride, man,” said Paul. He grabbed Tyson’s shoulder and shook him vigorously. “It's fuckin’ Pride!” he grinned. “And you're the hottest bartender at the coolest bar in the city.”

“Don't say that…” Tyson rolled his eyes.

Paul held up his hands. “Hey, I'm doin fine but you've got a good foot on me and all the, y'know, hair.” He gestured to Tyson’s chest. “Honestly some days I'm amazed they even hired me.” He clapped his hands together. “Anyway. All I'm sayin is it's a time for celebration, you shouldn't be sulking.”

Tyson grimaced. “I'm not sulking.”

“Oh please,” Paul rolled his eyes, “you're the bloody… mayor of Sulk City.”

Tyson grinned bashfully, and Paul returned the smile. “That's more like it.” He slapped the bartop and slipped past Tyson towards the bathroom. “I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead.”

Paul was helping, and he was right. Whatever happened to Blake or wherever he was now likely had very little to do with Tyson. The cops were dealing with it, there wasn't anything Tyson could do about it, and worrying about it, or wondering what he could have done differently, or wondering if everything he had felt had all been unfounded - all of that was pointless. All it did was make him miserable.

If Blake ever showed up again… well, he wasn't really sure what he would do. But that was beginning to seem less and less likely, and he wasn't going to - he couldn't - just wait around wondering what the proper reaction would be. He had to get over the whole thing. That was becoming clear.

“Hey… Hey Tyson! You with us, buddy?”

Andy, the big burly leather daddy regular, had materialized in front of him and was tapping on the bar.

Tyson took a breath, adopted the same smarmy smile that had become reflexive, and set his hands on the bar. “Hey,” he grinned, “what'll it be?”

 

***

After what seemed to Cassidy to be too long a time, they arrived at the restaurant/bar Drew had been aiming at, which was a place called Java House. Cassidy would have assumed it was a coffee joint but it turned out to be some sort of bohemian, vaguely Mexican pseudo-dive.

Drew presented the place like a wizbang salesman, waving his arns dramatically at the banner that was painted over the entrance. “No one's gonna give you a second glance here, man. You're all set.”

The walk over, however, had raised Cassidy's spirits somewhat, and he gestured to the door. “After you.”

Drew looked a bit uncertain. “If you like… want to be alone it's cool. I'm not…”

“Oh my god,” Cassidy rolled his eyes. “Shut up and come drink with me.”

Drew shrugged and led him inside.

It was sparsely populated, and looked like it had one bartender and two servers. The hostess told them to sit anywhere and they slid into a booth opposite each other.

“The food’s pretty good, if you're hungry,” said Drew with a shrug.

“Yeah maybe…” Cassidy slid the laminated menu in front of him. “We got room service but I didn't finish my breakfast.”

Drew nodded but didn't respond, and after a few seconds a waiter showed up. They ordered a pitcher and a thing of nachos.

“So…” Drew said slowly. “Is everything… sorry, it's none of my business.”

Cassidy sighed. “It's fine it was… I dunno, it's no big deal. Like, it was just about last night with Corey… Or, fuck. Maybe it wasn't.” He rubbed his temple and grimaced.

“Yeah… I guess this is, y'know… uncharted relationship issue territory,” Drew surmised grimly.

“He just… he's like this with everything. My god, he can be so impressionable. Like, I don't even think he realizes it. But he totally is.”

Drew shrugged. “Nobody's perfect.”

“But I'm like… he wants something impossible, and I'm GIVING it to him. And I'm happy to do it. Like, I'm excited to do it, but then he's not sure anymore or like, he starts thinking about what other people think and…” Cassidy sighed. “No offense to Jamie. I mean I'm glad they reconnected, totally, but like - oh my god - he's so afraid that this has… like, that Jamie doesn't respect him or… thinks he's being silly. And then he second guesses himself.”

“Yeah…” Drew nodded slowly, “I think…” he paused as the pitcher came in the hands of a lanky, scruffy, olive-skinned waiter with a spiky mess of artfully tousled hair atop a crisp fade. He poured two pints as they sat in silence, then set down two side plates with a neat pile of napkins atop them.

“Nachos on the way, guys,” he said, winking at Drew before departing.

“Man,” Drew watched him go. “What is it with waiters winking at me?”

Cassidy grinned. “Oh my god he winked at you?”

Drew waved the query aside. “Nevermind. Okay, so you know how Jamie and I… like I went and stayed with my friend for a bit. Okay, wait. Some backstory. So like…” he paused. “I… I've kind of always had this… I guess attraction… you could call it a fetish, for like, growing into a huge muscle freak.”

Cassidy smirked.

“Since I was a kid,” Drew continued. “Like, I didn't even equate it with anything sexual but like, I found that exciting even before I realized I was into dudes. But…” he paused bashfully. “So I never told Jamie about any of this but like, I found websites for people who were into the same thing and I'd like, roleplay with them and… it was just like this other thing I was doing and I guess… I dunno, I thought about bringing it up to Jamie but it felt like… juvenile, I guess. And like, Jamie's retarded too about a bunch of stuff but I still felt like the same thing as Adam. He'd think I was being silly or shallow or whatever.” He sighed. “So when he told me what happened that night, up at your place, I thought he'd like, gotten into my browsing history and come up with this ridiculous story just to… I mean I don't even know. But I felt like he had violated my privacy and was using this secret I had against me.” Drew shook his head. “It seems so… I said some really awful shit to him.”

Cassidy shrugged. “Well, like… like you said it's pretty uncharted territory.”

“I know but still…” Drew paused. “He isn't holding it against me and every time I apologize he like, won't even let me but I felt so betrayed. Trust has never been easy for me - for either of us - but once we had it between us…” Drew paused mid-sentence, and smiled abashedly. “Sorry I shouldn't be unloading all this.”

Cassidy waved his hands. “Oh my god, it's fine. Seriously.”

“Hey guys,” the waiter returned with a platter of nachos. They cleared space on the table and he set them down. “There we go. Enjoy!” he chirped before sauntering off again.

“Did he wink again?” asked Cassidy.

Drew shook his head. “Must be losing my touch.” He peeled a cheesey nacho off the top of the pile. “Okay my point is: ever since that night we reconciled, I've been opening up more about it. We've played around with size fantasies and… I guess what I'm saying is, Jamie's getting into it now too. I mean last night after you, y'know,” he mimed a flex with a grin, “we had a really great time, and Jamie couldn't get enough of it.” He sipped his beer. “If Adam talked to Jamie about it now? I feel like he'd get a very different impression.”

“Really,” Cassidy sounded dubious.

“Well Jamie can be difficult to predict sometimes so I can't say for sure,” Drew admitted, then shrugged. “But yeah.”

Cassidy leaned forward. “You like the waiter?”

Drew casually turned his head back to glance at the server who was leaning against a doorframe talking to another employee. He shrugged. “Yeah he's all right.”

“He'll be better the next time around,” Cassidy winked.

Drew grinned, his eyes lighting up, and he leaned in. “Seriously?” he asked quietly. “You just like, go around pumping up strangers?”

Cassidy shrugged, wary of disapproval after everything had been going so well. “Yeah…”

Drew giggled. “Man that is so fuckin cool!”

Cassidy smiled in relief. It was fun being able to talk to someone about it who wasn't constantly riding him to tone it down. “Y'know… if you ever wanted something more permanent,” he shrugged again. “I'm game. Just say the word.”

“Oh man,” Drew shook his head with a wide smile. “You cannot do that to me.”

“Oh my god I'm totally serious,” Cassidy protested.

Drew exaggerated a nod, laughing. “Oh I know. You just don't understand what you're getting into, saying that to me.”

“Jamie told you I can do it so it's permanent right?” Cassidy raised an eyebrow. He held up a cautionary finger. “Oh my god, BUT if it's permanent it's permanent. I don't even know how to reverse it. Yet, at least.”

“Dude, shut up. Seriously,” Drew held up his hand. “You’re giving me an erection.”

Cassidy laughed. “Sounds like a yes to me.”

Drew chuckled, then grew a bit more serious. “… I mean I should probably run it by Jamie…”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “God. Like, Jamie's a great guy and all but he's really ruining all my fun.”

Drew shrugged apologetically. “Have you ever… like, done it to anyone before? Made them, like, permanently huge?”

Cassidy's grin widened, and he dug his phone out of his pocket. He swiped through a few menus before he found what he was looking for, then passed the phone to Drew. “Keep the sound off,” he advised. “It sounds like a porno.”

Drew chuckled as he hit play on the video, but almost immediately his brow furrowed. “Wait a minute, I've…” his eyes widened. “Holy shit this is real?”

Cassidy beamed. “Yup.”

“I've seen clips of it all over the forums I go to,” Drew explained. “I just thought it was a really good effects job.”

Drew watched the video of clothes tearing off Josh as he grew too swollen with muscle to be contained, fighting the urge to turn on the sound so he could hear the groans of pure ecstasy evident on his expression.

Drew hastily shoved the phone back across the table, nearly pitching it into the nachos as he went. “If I watch any more I'll jizz myself, guaranteed,” he chuckled under his breath.

Cassidy smiled as he put his phone back in his pocket. He shrugged. “Anyway. You want something similar you know where to find me.”

Drew shook his head. “Man, I still can't get over it. Magic and shit. It's so fucked up.”

Cassidy shrugged. “I dunno. You get used to it.”

Drew laughed. “If you say so.”

The waiter sidled up next to their table, sleeves now hugging thicker arms and pants tight around a modest bubble butt. “Everything all right here, guys?”

They nodded. “All good, thanks,” Cassidy said with a thumbs up.

“Great,” said the waiter, and turned to leave, his ass bouncing along behind him.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “You like?”

Drew chuckled and nodded. “Very nice.”

 

***

Adam lazed around the hotel room trying to distract himself. He played on his phone, watched TV, and perused his Facebook wall but kept wondering what he was supposed to do. Go looking for Cassidy? Send him texts? Just forget about him and do his own thing? He thought about seeing a movie, grabbing a drink, or just going for a walk around the city, but didn't really feel like doing anything. Instead he just killed time and waited for Cassidy to come back, rehearsing lectures and apologies in equal measure.

Fuck, he thought, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Maybe I AM wishy-washy.

When Adam had first proposed going big full-time, it had seemed like such a fantastic idea. He felt so good when he was gigantic. It felt so natural. When he'd wake up after shrinking down to normal he felt so crestfallen, and missed it immediately. Cassidy had been taken aback at first but once he got on board there was no talking him down.
But all these factors that hadn't seemed like a big deal… he'd have to quit his job, and wasn't sure where, if anywhere, he could get a new one. They'd probably have to move. They'd have to get his entire wardrobe - not to mention utensils, computers, hell even his phone - custom made… Cassidy kept insisting that funds were no issue but he'd grown up a rich kid and had a fucked up idea of money and virtually NO idea how much things actually cost. Becoming a giant was an incredibly expensive prospect, aside from all the other practical problems it would entail, and aside from all the attention he would inevitably get that he didn't want.

There was a knock at the door and he glanced over at it. “Cass?” he shouted. Maybe he'd forgotten his key. Adam rolled off the bed and padded barefoot over to the door. He opened it to find two people standing outside and thought for a split second they were hotel staff inexplicably dressed in casual clothing but then he recognized them.

“Mahtab? Russell?” he frowned. “What- hey!”

Mahtab roughly shoved him back in his room and Russell closed the door behind them.

Adam rubbed his chest where she had hit him. “What the fuck, Mahtab?”

“Is he here?” asked Mahtab. Russell pushed by him and checked the room, peeking his head in the bathroom.

“Cassidy?” asked Adam, bewildered. “No, he…” Adam shook his head. “Look, whatever. Get out of my fucking room, you psycho!”

“Adam, we are not fucking around. Where is Cassidy?” Mahtab asked again. Russell had stepped up next to her, arms folded and head raised archly.

Adam glanced back and forth at them, agape. “Look… I don't…” he thought back to that last day at the dojo, with Harry fuming at Cassidy and Adam briefly scared he was going to kill him. He shook his head. “I'm not telling you shit. Get out of my room. What… who do you think you are?”

“We have to talk to Cassidy,” said Russell. “Just talk. For now, anyway.”

“Oh yeah, THAT sounds encouraging,” Adam spat.

“Hey!” Mahtab pointed a finger at him so close to his face he leaned back. “This is serious!”

Adam was at a momentary loss for words before he managed to clumsily blurt out: “Why?”

Russell glanced apprehensively at Mahtab, who vigorously shook her head. Russell seemed to protest, raising his arms in supplication, but Mahtab was apparently not budging, and folded her arms with an arch glare. Russell sighed, and turned to Adam. “Look, lives are on the line.”

Mahtab batted him across the arm. “Jesus, Russell!”

“Well what are we supposed to do here?” asked Russell. “Let's assume for a second that we're right about Cassidy. Either Adam is in on it or he's in the dark.”

“You guys know I'm standing right in front of you, right?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

Mahtab sighed with annoyance. “Look… people have been going missing, and… well things ended badly between Cassidy and the rest of the coven so....”

“Wait what?” Adam blinked. “Who's missing?”

“Roddy, Mohan, Sarah…” Russell listed them off.

Adam shook his head. “Roddy’s in Mexico for the summer.”

Mahtab clenched her teeth. “No he's not! Look we've been looking into this for a while now and…”

“What about the Circle?” asked Adam. “It's the fucking Circle. Leave us alone.”

Russell sighed. “It's not the Circle, they've been losing people too.”

“Then what…” Adam stopped, and sat down on the bed. He paused for a moment, then looked up at them. “Is Liam alright?”

Mahtab looked dubiously at Russell. “Yeah. He's fine.”

“I just…” Adam looked between them. “I mean I know things got… strained, but… I mean c'mon guys. You really think Cassidy would do anything to hurt any of you? After everything?”

“According to Corey he was pretty brazen about practicing in public.” Mahtab put a hand on her hip and gestured with the other. “Like he doesn't give a shit about any of our codes.”

“Well sure he doesn't,” Adam shot her a glare, “but that's on Harry. You guys kicked him out; why should he have to follow all your rules?”

“What?!” Mahtab shouted. “Adam, if you guys went public it would put us all at risk. It can't be a decision you make on your own.”

“So instead it's a decision the rest of you get to make for us?” Adam pointed a finger at her. “Y'know, Cassidy would sit down with Harry if he came to him. But there's been no outreach, no peace offering, there's been dick all. It's almost a year now.”

“I don't see anything come out of your camp,” Mahtab countered.

Adam ignored that and continued. “We're on our own. That's pretty clear. You don't want to have anything to do with us, that's fine. Whatever. But don't come to us asking for our dues.”

Mahtab sneered and was about to shout back at him but Russell intervened. “Okay wait. Calm down. This isn't what we're here for.”

Adam shook his head. “What's it say about you that you think your friends turn into psychos and monsters the moment your back is turned?”

Mahtab’s expression softened. “It's been a while, Adam. This wasn't just… I dunno, a little spat. We thought if Cassidy felt he was in danger he might… protect himself.”

“IS he in danger?” asked Adam pointedly.

“No. Well I don't know,” Russell admitted. “But the only people who would be moving against our coven AND the Circle would be someone working outside both of them.” He crossed his arms. “You know any other practitioners who are?”

“What about Robyn?” asked Adam. “I mean she never made it official but she was definitely talking about going out on her own.”

“She's gone missing too,” Mahtab reported.

Adam grimaced. “Doesn't rule her out.”

“Then help us rule HIM out,” said Russell. “If he's not involved then he should be aware of all this anyway.”

Adam paused, biting his lips, glancing between them, before he sighed dejectedly. “Look I don't know where he is,” he admitted.

Mahtab rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh?”

“I'm serious,” Adam insisted. “We had a bit of a fight and he stormed out.”

“What about?” asked Mahtab.

“Well we got into a pretty heated discussion of none of your fucking business,” said Adam, throwing up his middle finger at her.

Russell got between them. “Do you know where he went?”

Adam sighed, looked at him flatly. “Do you normally give people your itinerary before you storm off in a huff?”

Russell held up his hands. “All right, I think you need to cut back on some of this sass.”

“Fuck it,” Mahtab shrugged. “We're staying here until Cassidy gets back.”

“Cuz that's not awkward at all!” Adam threw up his arms.

Russell pointed at him. “What'd I just say about sass?”

Mahtab strode over to a chair, scooped some clothing off it, throwing it on the floor, and sat down, defiantly crossing her arms.

Adam shook his head. “Fucking god,” he grumbled, and lay down on the bed.

Russell leaned against the desk, and the three of them sat there in silence for a minute until finally he proposed: “You guys wanna order a pizza?”

Mahtab and Adam exchanged glances. They shrugged in unison.

“I guess.”

“Yeah sure.”

 

***

Cassidy leaned against the wall of an alleyway that led to a complex of back entrances to shitty-looking apartments attached to buildings with storefronts on the streets. The odd passerby shot him a curious glance but generally he was ignored. He was too preoccupied with his phone to care one way or the other.

im so hard right now, one of Cassidy's Grindr chat partner reported. Cassidy sighed, and dutifully replied: Hot.

The Grindr guy operating under the handle “Amigo” continued: im so thick U want to watxh me jerk it??

Cassidy made a face. Who the hell says “jerk it”? Nevertheless, that was the response he'd been hoping for so he typed with a grin: Fuck yeah

“Any luck?” Drew called as he approached from down the alley, a plastic grocery bag swinging from his hand.

Cassidy grinned. “Oh my god! Plenty! Grindr is like, clearly experiencing the Pride effect. This one guy's about to send me a link, I'm pretty sure.”

Sure enough, the next message was a hyperlink, which Cassidy triumphantly followed to a video chat invite, but first he had to create an account with the website and it needed his credit card information.

Drew made a face as he fished a mickey of Canadian Club out of the bag. “Fuck that.”

“Right?” Cassidy agreed. “It's okay I had another guy… yeah here.”

Drew took a swig from the mickey and passed it to Cassidy, then opened a bag of all dressed Ruffles chips and offered them to Cassidy.

luv showin off my big cock, Grindr User informed him.

Cassidy took a shot from the mickey, typing: I bet a stud like you puts on quite a show

Like nothing u ever seen, Grindr User confidently replied.

Cassidy smirked. “And away we go!” he chirped, typing: Show me

Drew munched a handful of chips as they waited for Grindr User to respond. “Go to his profile?... Whoa. Holy abs.”

“Right?” Cassidy rolled his eyes. “I totally would've preferred the last guy with a face pic but like, y'know,” he shrugged. “Grindr be grindin’.”

Drew chuckled.

“Oh my god, jackpot!” Cassidy exclaimed as a hyperlink popped up. He followed it to a still shot of a familiar set of abs and a countdown on the expiration of their invite to join the video chat. He needed to set up an account first but this one didn't require any credit card information. Before long they were signed in and ready to go.

The blurry image of Grindr User’s chest came into focus before he turned the webcam up to his face. “Yeah you want a show, huh? Mmm,” he licked his lips theatrically. He had some kind of Scandinavian accent, though it was fairly mild. He was sitting naked in what looked like a dimly lit basement apartment. There was a Death Becomes Her poster next to what looked like a Green Bay Packers calendar on the wall behind him.

Cassidy typed: Dazzle me

Peering over his shoulder, Drew laughed. “Dazzle me?”

“Yeah I'll dazzle you,” he said breathily, then he image shuddered as he adjusted the webcam down then rolled backward on his desk chair so they could see him splayed across his desk chair stroking his erect cock. “This has fireworks going off in your crotch, yeah?”

Cassidy smirked, typing: Yeah it's not bad, I guess

“Ha! Not bad?” Grindr User laughed, holding his cock against his abs and letting his hand continue past the tip and along his abs. He smirked confidently, licking his lips again. “Admit it. This is the most beautiful cock you've ever seen.” He waved his hand at his five inch cock like he was presenting a work of art.

“Jesus, this guy really gets into it,” Drew noted.

Cassidy held up his finger. “Okay now pay attention,” he said, typing: It could use some work

Gindr User’s expression faltered for a moment before he laughed again. “You want me to work my cock, eh?” He shifted in his chair, stroking his shaft slowly. “You… you want…” he paused, looking down at his cock, and it suddenly throbbed larger in his hand. His eyes widened as it lengthened to nearly a foot long and grew as thick as a beer can. “What the shit?!” he exclaimed.

Drew covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed aloud.

now THATs a beutiful cock, Cassidy typed, and quickly shut down the browser and Grindr before he could respond.

Drew glanced down, “Fuck, well, now I’m hard,” he observed. He laughed again. “Man that is so hot! You must do that all the time!”

Cassidy chuckled, shaking his head. “Like, only when I’m in a real good mood.”

“Thought you were in a bad mood,” Drew winked at him.

“The afternoon really turned things around,” Cassidy smiled.

“Yeah man it's been fun hanging out with you,” Drew nodded, then tilted his head. “On that note though I should probably get going. As much as I'd love to watch you blow up guys all day.”

“Aww,” Cassidy pouted. “You guys doing anything tonight?”

“Nah we got Fit Primpin tomorrow so we're gonna take it easy tonight. Stay in, smoke a joint, watch a movie,” Drew shrugged. “Hope to cap it off with a nice dirty fucking.”
Cassidy laughed. “How romantic.” He sighed. “Well, like, thanks for cheering me up. You've got, like, a very refreshing attitude.”

“Add me on Facebook man, we should hang out again sometime.”

“Oh my god totally!” Cassidy opened his arms for a hug. Drew came in for it but as he went to put his chin over Cassidy's shoulder, Cassidy suddenly moved to intercept and their lips locked in a kiss. Cassidy moved his hand down to Drew's crotch, feeling the hardon under his shorts. Drew shuddered as he felt his cock grow heavier and snake down his thigh.

He drew his lips away. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Don't worry,” Cassidy assured him, glancing around the alley. “Jamie will be fine with it.”

Drew leaned back with a moan, dropping the plastic bag as he felt his torso thicken, arms tightening up into guns that stretched his T-shirt, thighs inflating with beef, chest heaving into two slabs of muscle. Cassidy seemed to dwindle in front of him as he felt his vertebrae rubbing against each other as they stretched longer, inching him taller. His feet strained the straps of his sandals.

His growth subsided just as he was about to burst out of his clothes, leaving him dressed in a far too small T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts that looked almost like posers painted over a supple bubble butt and a slightly obscene bulge. He was even bigger than he'd been the night before.

“Wow,” he breathed. “I never get tired of that feeling.” he ran his hands down his newly formed abs, exposed an inch or two at his midriff.

“Glad you like it,” Cassidy smirked. “Though, like, try not to bend over or flex too hard on the way home,” he added.

“Good advice,” Drew agreed. “Umm… with that in mind could you grab that bag?”

Cassidy chuckled as he scooped up the bag, pausing to help himself to one last hit from the mickey and a final handful of chips. “There's totally Skittles in here!” he noted as he handed it back to Drew.

“Shit I forgot the Skittles,” Drew frowned. He looked himself over again. “Glad I don't have far to go. Thanks a ton, man.”

“Oh, my pleasure,” Cassidy purred. “Have a good night.”

“Later, Cass.” Drew resisted the urge to wave and instead just nodded, then turned and walked stiffly out of the alley, feeling his clothing ready to give out with nearly every move he made.

Cassidy chuckled to himself as he watched him go, congratulating himself on his handiwork, but severing the link as he found himself tempted to give him another boost. He had to keep a leash on things when he'd had so much to drink.

It was so nice to just hang around someone who was as into his abilities as he was. He leaned against the wall and glanced back at his phone.

Noting the time, he realized he'd been gone from the hotel since the morning. Adam was probably worried but didn't want to be the first to break radio silence. Cassidy sighed. Frustrating as he was, Adam didn't deserve that. He decided to be the bigger man.

Hey

We'll talk when i get back

I'll be like an hour or so

He sent the texts one handed, finishing the remaining chips in his other hand as he did. He waited a few moments staring at his phone, and just as he went to put it away it buzzed in his hand.

Cool, Adam replied.

Cassidy rolled his eyes and put his phone in his pocket. “God like don't gush or anything, Adam,” he muttered, clapping all dressed flavour dust from his hands.

“Hey Butch.”

Cassidy froze, feeling a chill run up his spine. He turned to see a big burly guy wearing a huge white shirt that draped loosely over his thick muscles cushioned by a fair layer of flab. one hand was in his pocket and the other was smoking a cigarette. Cassidy recognized him but couldn't quite place him. He called him Butch. Cassidy had already been staring at him too long.

“Like, are you talkin to me?” he asked, tapping himself in the chest.

The big man took another sidling step towards him, the hint of a grin on his otherwise glowering face, equal parts mischievous and triumphant. “‘Course I am, Butch. You don't remember me?”

It was that bouncer from the Black Eagle. It came to him suddenly. Cliff. How could he know? It was impossible. He couldn't know.

“Like, sorry man,” Cassidy forced a chuckle. “Think you got me mistaken for someone else.”

“Naw man don't be like that,” Cliff took another step closer, flicking his half-finished cigarette away. “Let’s catch up, man. You remember what you did to me that night we met? Cuz fuck, man. I sure as hell do.”

The alley was beginning to feel very claustrophobic. Cassidy shrugged. “Sorry man. Like, I don't know what you're talkin about.” He turned and headed for the street as evenly as he could, the booze suddenly hitting him harder than he'd anticipated.

He felt a thick hand clasp around his arm, and before he could twist free, a second hand clamped a rag over his nose and mouth and pressed him tightly against the burly body.Panic set in immediately, but the chemical fumes flooding his lungs plunged him into a haze. Cassidy tried to collect his energies, make himself bigger so he could escape, but already consciousness was slipping away from him. He tried to fight it but the strength left his limbs and he felt his body go limp in the grasp of his captor before sensation left him entirely.

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Part 12: Tyson

Act III: Night

 

The Black Eagle was fucking packed. Everyone was drunk, frenetic bass-heavy dance music reverberated through the bar, and a steady cacophony of gabbing queers had transcended into white noise. Tyson had entered into a state of mind where he was barely conscious of his actions, operating on a form of autopilot where thinking actively about anything had the potential to disrupt his rhythm and fuck up the whole rest of the night. He’d changed into his harness, but Paul had opted to stick to the black T-shirt.

Hugo - bless him - had had the presence of mind to bring some coke, and the two of them and Paul did a line each in the keg room for a pickup earlier. It had been a real lifesaver, but it wasn’t that late and he was already beginning to feel burnt out. He’d been getting hit on all night and Paul had been encouraging him to take someone up on it, but at this rate Tyson suspected that by the end of his shift, an empty bed in his apartment would be the most exciting prospect on the table.

After pouring a pitcher, mixing a pair of tequila sunrises, and serving five shots of Jager without missing a beat, he afforded himself a half-second to yawn.

“Awww, feeling sleepy?” Andy teased with a laugh. His considerable girth had been stuffed into a large leather vest that even now strained to contain it. His on-and-off drinking buddy/slave Kero, wearing nothing but a codpiece and chaps and leashed to Andy’s belt by a spiked collar, chucked beside him.

Christ Andy, don’t you ever fucking go home? Tyson thought to himself but shook his head cheerfully and leaned over the bar. “Nah just catching my breath. What can I get you?”

“Don’t worry, Princess, Paul’s already got me,” Andy smirked, pointing with his elbow at Paul who was busy at the taps.

Tyson resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded, turning to the next patron in line. He nodded at him but he didn’t place an order, just standing there smiling at him. He was short, a bit squirrelly, near-bald with a fine buzzcut, and wearing a smirk that seemed nailed onto his face. After a second, he recognized him as the guy from the night before.

“Oh, hey man,” Tyson greeted. “You recover from last night?”

He laughed. “Naw, man, s’all good. ’Ll have a shot of Jack Daniels.”

Tyson nodded and grabbed a shot glass from under the bar and the bottle from behind him.

“Ya seen Tahar here, man?” he asked.

“Hmm? No I don’t think so,” Tyson replied. He smirked. “You guys hit it off?”

The guy grinned, putting a bill on the bar as Tyson slid him the shot. “Naw man s’not like that. Jus’ wanted to thank him. You too, man.”

“Me?” Tyson took the bill, grabbing him change as the guy downed the shot. “I didn’t do anything.”

“More’n you know, guy,” the guy gave him a wink and left the change on the bar. “Have a good night,” he bid with a nod, and turned back into the crowd.

“Fuck, Tyson,” Andy noted as Paul came back with his drinks. “You should get these guys to take a…” he trailed off as a look of tension crossed his face. His cheeks reddened.

“Andy…?” asked Paul. “Andy, man, you okay?”

Kero shook him by the shoulder. “Andy?”

Suddenly, Andy’s vest began to pop open. Tyson raised an eyebrow, thinking for a second that Andy had forced his gut forward, but Andy’s already ample body was expanding outwards at all sides right in front of him. Kero released his shoulder and jumped back, exclaiming a profanity in some other language. Andy groaned as the pounds piled on, his jeans filling out with thickening thighs. The waist of his jeans blew out. Other patrons had begun to notice, and gasps of alarm and awe rippled through the crowd.

“What the hell is this?” asked Paul. Tyson just stared and gaped. It had to be some trick… maybe an inflating bodysuit? But it looked way too real and was growing way too fast. Andy's face was shifting back and forth from worried to content and back again. He put his hands on his growing belly and gasped as it lurched out one last time.
Andy had gone from big fat leather daddy to huge sumo wrestler squeezed into too-small clothing. He stood still for a moment, as if anticipating another expansion, then let his shoulders drop with a disoriented moan.

Kero knocked on the bartop. “Hey! Hey! Call an ambulance!” he shouted at Tyson over the music still blaring before turning back to Andy. “Are you all right?”

Andy was running his hands over his new size. “I'm… I....”

“Argh!” Paul suddenly cried out, dropping a bottle of beer and Tyson looked over, eyes going wide as he watching Paul sprouting taller and taller, his shirt sliding up his torso. “What the fuck?!” he shouted, looking over to Tyson with panic in his eyes. No bodysuit could pull that off. Paul was staring at his hands, watching his fingers grow longer. The rest of his fit body seemed to be growing in proportion. As he surpassed Tyson's height - meaning he had grown at least a foot taller - he suddenly winced and stumbled, leaning against the bar, and a tearing sound from below drew Tyson’s rapt gaze to his feet under the cuffs of his jeans now hugging his calved, which were quickly tearing their way out of his shoes.

“What the…” Paul panted. “What the fuck is happening?”

Was he dreaming? Was he on a drug trip? Had Hugo cut the cocaine with like bath salts or something? Tyson shook the doubts from his head, and put a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “I'm gonna call a… a…” he trailed off as a strange feeling began to flood his system.

His muscles tensed. His whole body felt like it was on fire but it was almost soothing. Tyson felt flushed, aroused, and sensual. He took a sharp breath. What was happening to him?

“Holy shit!” Paul exclaimed beside him, and Tyson glanced over to see Paul gaping at him. Tyson looked down just as everything began to feel tighter.

His lean, toned physique was inflating with muscle. His slim-fit black jeans were quickly overwhelmed by thick, powerful thighs. His arms had already grown twice as big and still expanding. His hairy chest swelled, the sturdy leather harness digging into his torso as it surged thicker and heavier - the rising traps and broadening shoulders not helping in that regard. He winced as the buckles pinched his growing flesh, feeling almost strangled by the harness until finally his body became too huge for it to handle, snapping first one strap and then another, leaving dirty purple welts where they had been particularly constrictive.

With his jeans split to shreds, and the harness in a heap at his feet, he felt the sensation subside, but the size he had gained remained. Panting, and suddenly exhausted, he looked over at Paul to see his reaction, but Paul was distracted, staring in shock out at the bar. Tyson followed his gaze.

The blaring music had drowned out the noise but no longer distracted by his sudden growth spurt, Tyson heard the rabble of commotion accompanying the bizarre scene before him.

All across the bar people were transforming before his eyes - regulars, first-timers, and staff alike. A pair of slim twinks swelled into amateur bodybuilders; big bald Hank suddenly sprouted a head of thick, luxurious hair that fell down past his shoulders; Mistress Gerta threw her hands to her chest as her inflating boobs threatened to pop out out of her bodice; a first-time skinny hipster kid suddenly blew out into a full-blown bear; Kero had gone from skinny short sub to wide, thick fireplug (his neck so big it broke his collar); pudgy little Walter had grown two feet taller and a thick dark beard… there was so much going on it was all impossible to take in.

People were freaking out in every corner of the bar as the sounds of ripping jeans and stretching leather accented the pumping bass still blaring through the bar. He heard Paul shouting at people to calm down, announcing that paramedics were on the way. He heard Daniel trying to shout over the din. But for Tyson, the initial panic had subsided, and he found himself reveling in the absurdly impossible, totally chaotic, and erotically fantastic scene he had found himself in. If it was a dream or a trip, all he could do was ride it out. He sighed, leaning back against the bar, startled a little bit by the wider back he now possessed, but then he just sat back and watched the show.
He looked around for familiar faces, to see what they had become, and as he catalogued the various changes - some minor, some rendered barely recognizable - he remembered the little guy from last night. The one who'd been asking about Tahar. Now he was probably twice as tall, maybe even more ripped than Tyson had become. But as he scanned the bar, he couldn't find him.

Oh well, Tyson thought, there's plenty more to see. He grabbed himself a bottle of Tankhouse and cracked it open, sighed contentedly, and watched the Black Eagle explode.

 

***

These were Drew's third favourite shorts, so he was very cautious as he drew his keys from his pocket, careful to stay as upright as possible. The journey home had taken twice as long in his effort to keep them intact, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he extracted his keys and carefully slid his card into the lock, and quickly slipped inside as he heard one of his neighbours coming down the hall, and didn’t want to have to pretend to be his own brother or something.

“D?” Jamie called from the living room.

“Yeah hey Jamie,” Drew replied, dropping the plastic bag and beginning to maneuver out of his shoes but feeling his shorts strain as he bent his leg.

“D get in here!” Jamie shouted.

“Umm… actually I could kinda use a hand here,” Drew called back.

“Drew seriously get the fuck in here!” Jamie insisted.

Drew opted to leave his shoes on and carefully picked his way over the pile of shoes and through the kitchen to the living room. Jamie was sitting on the couch watching CP24. Oprah was playing with the cat toy hanging off the third tier of her cat tree in the corner. “What’s the emergency?”

“D, look at this!” Jamie glanced over and did a double take. “Whoa…”

Drew blushed as he saw Jamie drink him in. “Yeah, I uhh, ran into Cassidy. We hung out for a while. Actually…”

Jamie snapped back to the television. “That’s cool, but seriously, check this out.” He picked up the remote and turned up the volume.

“Jamie can you help me out of these clothes? I don’t wanna lose these shorts.”

“In a second. Look.” Jamie pointed, and Drew looked.

President Barack Obama was leaning on the podium with those windows behind him, flanked by an American and presidential flag. He was in the middle of a speech.
“...will end the patchwork system we currently have. It will end the uncertainty hundreds of thousands of same-sex couples face from not knowing whether their marriage, legitimate in the eyes of one state, will remain if they decide to move - or even visit - another. This ruling will strengthen all of our communities by offering to all loving same-sex couples the dignity of marriage across this great land.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open. “Is this…?”

Jamie shushed him as Obama continued: “In my second inaugural address, I said that if we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well.” He paused. “It is gratifying, to see that principle enshrined into law by this decision. This ruling is a victory for Jim Oger...full” - he struggled briefly with the name - “and the other plaintiffs in the case.It's a victory for gay and lesbian couples who have fought so long for their basic civil rights. It’s a victory for their children, whose families will now be recognized as equal to any other. It’s a victory for the allies and friends and supporters who spent years, even decades, working and praying for change to come. And this ruling is a victory for America. This decision affirms what millions of Americans already believe in their hearts:  when all Americans are treated as equal, we are all more free.”

“Holy shit…” Drew whispered.

Jamie turned it back down. “This morning, man,” Jamie grinned at Drew. “Gay marriage is legal from sea to shining sea.” He stood up and stepped over to Drew, throwing his arms around him. Drew leaned down to kiss him and they held each other, smelling each other’s familiar scents, Jamie tasting the whiskey and Ruffles on Drew’s tongue; Drew the green curry on Jamie’s.

“We should celebrate,” Drew suggested as he broke away from Jamie’s lips.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You really want to go out like that?”

Drew hummed to himself in mock pensivity. “I can think of a few ways to celebrate right here…” he grinned rakishly.

Jamie chuckled and leaned into Drew, nuzzling his pecs through his shirt.

Drew paused awkwardly. “...Seriously, though, I need your help getting out of these clothes.”

“Oh, uhh…” Jamie pulled back and looked Drew up and down. “All right. Suck in, buddy.”

Drew took a deep breath.

 

***

Cassidy groaned in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering, his head throbbing in agony with every heartbeat. Fuck, he thought, how much did I drink? He tried to roll over but found that he couldn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even in bed. He was sitting upright. His legs had been duct-taped together, and his arms had been duct-taped to his sides. In spite of the headache, he tried to concentrate on making himself big enough to shred the duct tape and pummel whoever had done this to him - Cliff, he remembered now - into a stain on the carpet.

But… nothing happened. Nothing even started to happen. He tried to reach out with his mind, find those energies that had allowed him to work his magic before but they were just… gone. It was like he was falling through an endless void, and however far he could reach, he just grasped at empty space.

“That’s not gonna work,” the gravelly voice of his captor came from behind him.

Cassidy slowly cracked open his eyes. What little light there was in the room was glaring, and his entire field of vision was so blurry he may as well have been looking through gauze.

“Where am I?” he mumbled incoherently, but Cliff, who had moved to his side, seemed to make it out anyway.

“It doesn’t really matter,” he replied. “You won’t be going anywhere for a long time.”

Cassidy tried again to grow himself, and Cliff laughed aloud.

“I told you… that’s pointless,” he said, coming around to the front of the couch Cassidy was sitting on. His vision was starting to clear, and he looked up at the beefy form of Cliff looming over him. “See, that thing you do?” Cliff grinned down at him, and as Cassidy watched, he swelled larger, his bulk expanding to fill out his once-loose T-shirt. “It belongs to me. Now it’s the thing I do.” He chuckled, raising his arms and flexing them, feeling his thick chest through his shirt.

As Cassidy’s periphery came into focus, he became aware of other figures in the room. Some standing, some sitting. There were quite a few of them, actually. All of them silent and still. It was too dark to make them out.

“Y’see, Butch,” Cliff moaned as he bounced his pecs, “while the rest of you fucking idiots were out there, spending years learning one thing, the thing I learned was how to take that away from you, and now?” he grinned, “while all of you are bitchin at each other for scraps, I’ve gotten better than all of you put together. If you dumb pukes had any sense you’d get down on your knees and fucking worship me.”

With a start, Cassidy realized someone was sitting next to him on the couch. He turned to look at him but in the darkness it was difficult to discern his features. His face was contorted in dismay, but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even breathing.

“It wouldn’t matter, though. I can get anyone to worship me,” Cliff shrugged nonchalantly. “All of you? You’re all going to end up the same. Maybe here… though it’s beginning to get a bit crowded.” He sniffed, and wiped his nose. “I’m not worried, though. Won’t be long before no one can stop me.”

Cassidy tried to elbow the guy next to him but ended up falling against him. Beneath his shirt though, the man was hard and stiff and cold. Like he was made of....stone. Cassidy looked around the room with horror. They were all stone. His vision had returned enough that he even recognized some of them. A stone statue of Mohan was tied to a chair across from him. Oded from the Circle was standing in the corner, looking back over his shoulder with a look of surprised. Robyn was handcuffed to a radiator, frozen in mid-struggle to break free, her face in the middle of shouting some profanity.

“No…” Cassidy began to feel a deathly cold creeping up his legs.

“Fraid so, Butch,” Cliff nodded in mock sympathy. “Y’know how thrilled I was when I realized what you did to me that night? I knew there was something about you. I could tell. And then you even made Daniel taller? Like I wouldn’t figure that out?” he shook his head. “Oh, and then, the next morning, I wake up and it’s all gone? What kind of fucking asshole does that?”

The feeling had completely abandoned his legs. Cassidy took deep breaths, beginning to panic. “Please… you don’t have to do this, we can…”

“But I CAN do this, don’t you get it?” Cliff asked. “Why would I negotiate with you when I can just take everything you’d offer me?”

It had crept past his crotch. His fingers hung leaden off his hands. He felt his insides clanking against each other.

Cliff chuckled down at him as Cassidy felt the cold climb up his chest, slither up his neck. “Thanks a lot, Butch,” he laughed.

And then, all he felt was the cold.

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Consequences finally caught up with Cassidy. ^^;;

I do hope that Addam will find Cassidy soon and that once everything is better again that Cassidy will have learned his lesson. ^^;;

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