muscle-growth Public Relations

[handsomegrad]

Bump!

Hope the author continues this!

[Maximilian]

Part 5: Blake

 

Blake had just chugged two Stellas but was stone sober. His guts were tied up in knots so tight he thought maybe nothing was getting through. Christ, what a terrible idea.

Every time you decide to go on a little solo adventure it just fizzles out into nothing, he reminded himself. What, you’re going to fuck one of these guys? Kim and Nat were right.

Blake looked around the room and sighed. He wouldn’t know where to begin. Plus at the Black Eagle he stuck out like a sore thumb that had been painted neon. This was not a khaki crowd, and his white Lacoste shoes might as well have been glowing n the dim lighting. Everyone’s looking at me, he convinced himself. They don’t want me in here. Although as he frantically cast his eyes about the bar, careful not to linger too long because he thought he might give the wrong impression, it looked as if no one was paying him any attention at all.

He turned and inadvertently locked eyes with one of the biggest guys he’d ever seen, a towering giant with a huge belly and a big bushy beard, crowned with a worn-out Blue Jays cap. His black tank was hugging his swarthy torso tight, and his beard framed a handsome face with a strangely mischievous smile. Fuck, Blake thought, raising his bottle to his lips, that guy would break me in half.

Finding his bottle was empty, he gratefully spun around and leaned on the bar, signaling over the bartender.

Jesus Christ, Blake thought - and not the first time that evening - this barboy is a total hunk.

Covered in fine hair, lean and graceful, the buckles on his harness tinkling with every casually measured move he made. He’s so hot; god, he’s fucking gorgeous.

Maybe diving right into a sea of bears from the slim, bitchy, dancehall queens he was used to wasn’t the best idea, but this guy shooting him smiles as he collected his empty was the perfect compromise. Blake sighed. He’s so cool, too. You can tell. I bet he -- oh shit he’s talking to me.

“Wait, what?” Blake asked.

The barman chuckled. “Another?” he asked, wagging the empty Stella.

“Oh. Yes please.”

When the bartender bent over to get it out of the fridge, his leather pants stretched across his beautifully symmetrical butt and Blake sighed wistfully. He felt a strange sensation in his own ass, almost like it had flexed unbidden and… it was strange. Maybe it was just crying out for attention from this bartender’s… whoa. As the lithe otter stood up from the fridge and turned around, Blake had to do a double take. His pants were doing little to conceal his hefty endowment. The bulge bounced with every step back to him.

The bartender caught him staring. “Ummm…”

Blake’s face flushed. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.”

He laughed. “No problem.”

Blake shook his head. “Sorry, I’m, just… a bit out of it I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey, seriously,” the bartender smiled, “don’t worry about it.” He popped off the cap and set the bottle down. “What’s your name?”

“Blake,” he answered, taking a swig.

“Tyson,” he pointed to himself with his thumb before grabbing some empties off the bartop. “First time here?”

Blake grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

Tyson shrugged. “Just haven’t seen you before,” he pitched a rakish wink at Blake. “I would’ve noticed.” He turned as someone flagged him from the other end of the bar. “Just a sec.”

That smile was so perfect, it made Blake’s knees buckle. Tyson…he whispered it to himself. Man, he’s pure cool. Shit, am I getting hard? Briefly mortified, he shifted his hips a bit. No, still soft. His pants just seemed tighter for some reason.

Tyson returned with a shot. Blake looked up at him. “I didn’t, uhh…”

“It’s on me,” Tyson’s eyes sparkled in the dim light. “It’s a welcoming gift.”

“Thanks,” Blake took it in one gulp, but realized he should’ve smelled it first. He had assumed with was Jager for no reason but it turned out to be Jameson. He coughed.

“Whoa!” Tyson chucked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Easy, big guy.” He filled a rock glass with water and set it next to the Stella. Blake sipped it and coughed again, smiling apologetically. He stopped leaning on the bar and sat down on a stool, shifting his butt around on it. His ass felt so strange, tonight.

Tyson got someone a beer before going back to Blake. "Your night just getting started?"

Blake shook his head. "Nah I was just at Crews and Tango with some friends."

"Oh," Tyson looked a bit crestfallen. "They joining you?"

The image of Kim and Nathalie in the Black Eagle gave Blake a chuckle. "Haha, no they wouldn't be caught dead here, they're..."

Tyson held up his finger. "One sec." He threw together a two vodka tonics with accompanying tequila shots and slid back in front of Blake with a sigh. "They wouldn't be caught dead here, they're..."

"I was gonna say something meaner than they deserve," Blake sipped his beer. "They're lesbians and a bit, umm..." Condescending? Inconsiderate? Sociopathic? "...pedestrian."

Tyson laughed. "Ouch. You always this harsh?"

"I mean I guess they mean well," Blake shrugged. "It's just... it's like they think if I'm not throwing myself at every... Adam Levine clone I see I'm... I dunno, wasting my time or something." He took another draw from his bottle. "Y'know sometimes they're great but sometimes I just... don't think any of my friends understand me at all." He paused ruefully, then remembered who he was talking to. Tyson had a plaintive half-smile on his face as he dried a pint glass.

Blake put his hand over one eye. "Jesus. I'm sorry I don't know why I'm opening up like this."

Tyson smiled. "Cuz you're drunk, Princess." He took the shot glass back, and sighed, whipping his bangs from his eyes. "Look, nobody ever understands each other all the time. No one's a mind reader. Doesn't make it an all-the-time thing."

Blake looked up, splitting his fingers so he could see through them. "Do you always give out sagely barman advice."

He laughed. "Comes with the territory."

Blake stood up. "I'm gonna take a piss. Don't go anywhere."

"I guarantee you you will find me in this five foot radius."

Blake turned and navigated the crowd to get to the bathroom, shouldering past a burly bear in a leather doublet and police cap. He pissed in a urinal, idly glancing backward at the mirror behind the sinks. His brow furrowed, and he looked again.

Man, he thought, my ass looks fucking fantastic tonight!

He was drunk, sure, but so drunk his imagination got the better of him. His khakis looked positively stretched over the two sculpted round globes stuffed into them. He bounced his butt up and down, almost giddy to see it responded. He finished peeing and put his cock away, giving another long look at the mirror before he turned around and washed his hands. Blake grinned at his reflection. Maybe it was something he ate or a bug bite or... Mercury in retrograde or something but whatever had clearly given his ass an upgrade, it couldn't have happened on a better night.

Blake Ouilette, he congratulated himself with a silent nod at his reflection, you are a hot fucking man.

He returned to the bar to see Tyson chatting as he mixed a drink for a tall, middle aged bear with a beach ball belly framed by an open leather vest. Tyson smiled at Blake, and the bear followed his gaze and whistled.

"Well, Tyson, no one can accuse you of being inconsistent."

Tyson threw up his hands in annoyed bewilderment. "What the fuck, Andy?"

The bear collected the mixed drink and the full pint next to it with a grumbling chortle that bounced his gut, "C'mon, Ty, if you're gonna be a slut at least own it." He laughed as he lumbered off.

Tyson wiped some spilled beer off the bar, smoldering for a moment. He brightened some as Blake took his stool back. "These guys like to act all alpha macho and shit but it doesn't stop them gossiping like a bunch of thirteen-year-old cheerleaders."

Blake put a ten dollar note on the bar. "Can I get another Stella?"

Tyson nodded, taking the bill. Blake leaned forward. "Hey. You don't have to... like explain... or..."

"No I know, I just..." Tyson popped off the cap with a sigh. "Reputations, man."

Blake took the bottle from him. "I don't think you're a slut."

Tyson returned a halfhearted smile. "Thanks."

Blake took a sip of beer, a little nervous about what he was about to do, but then he remembered the bubble butt he was sitting on and all his anxieties melted away. "But... we are gonna make out later, right?"

"Make out?" Tyson laughed. "You've been hanging out with those pedestrian lesbians too much." He leaned in and gave Blake a peck on the cheek, and Blake felt Tyson's  hot breath on his neck as he said softly, "You and me are gonna fuck."

 

***

 

Blake leaned against the wall of the Black Eagle, inhaling off his vaporizer, looking back at the bulldozer of a bouncer who had been glaring at him for the last five minutes. He nodded in greeting. The bouncer gave him one of those up-nods. Blake didn't know if they were called something else.

Tyson emerged from the front door shoving earbuds into backpack, having changed out of his leather accessories into a light blue tank and black jeans. With the denim jacket and backwards ball cap he looked like a whole different person. The taller, black bouncer followed out the door.

"No harness, eh?" Blake raised an eyebrow. "Y'know what? I'm gonna take off, have a good night man."

Tyson giggled, punching him in the shoulder. "Fuck you."

"Hey!"

They both turned to see the bouncer who had been eyeing Blake suspiciously continue to eye him suspiciously. "You need me to walk you to the bus stop, Tyson?"

Tyson sighed. "We're gonna grab a cab, but thanks Cliff!" He waved. "You guys have a good night."

"See ya," Cliff returned humourlessly. His colleague bid farewell with a silent, stoic nod.

Tyson rubbed Blake's chest reassuringly. "Don't mind him he's new."

Blake chuckled. "Doesn't like my look?"

"Yeah maybe you should stick to your own kind at Buddies or, like... Starbucks."

It was after three AM and streets were all but deserted. They flirt-bickered until they flagged a cab, where they quieted down in the indifferent presence of the driver. Blake leaned back in his seat swimming pleasantly in his own fuzzy drunkenness, looking over at Tyson, who was looking over at him, and drinking in every detail of his impossibly perfect face. God, he thought, I am so fucking lucky.

Blake slid his hand onto Tyson’s thigh, causing his smile to widen.

Tyson insisted on paying for the cab. on the grounds: “You’ve been tipping me like a maniac all fucking night,” and Blake stumbled a bit getting out of the back, laughing at himself as he stood up and stretched, looking around. They were in a little roundabout which connected three towering apartment buildings. He tried to spot some kind of landmark but the apartments blocked the view in pretty much every direction.

Tyson thanked the driver as he backed out of the cab, slinging his backpack over his shoulders, and ducked into Blake’s elbow, holding it in place around his neck as he stood upright. “Steady as she goes, big guy.”

“Where are we?”

Tyson pointed to the street behind them, and then to the north. “That’s River Street; that’s Gerrard.”

They waited for the elevator next to an ancient little fat Greek lady, and it seemed to take forever. Blake slumped against a pillar and Tyson stood in front of him, dancing mildly to silent music and playing with the hem of his sweater.

Blake groaned. “Does this elevator always take this long?” he mumbled.

“Only when I’m horny,” Tyson answered without missing a beat.

The Greek lady pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Finally the elevator dinged open and a girl came out with a cute little dachshund puppy who darted one by one to all their shoes, taking one sniff at each, before scrabbling for the lobby door.

Blake threw himself into a corner and Tyson stepped in front of him, before the wall of buttons. “Floor?”

“Nineteen,” the woman answered unsmiling, settling into the opposite corner. “Thank you.”

They got off at ten.

"Man it's three in the morning," Blake giggled quietly. "Where the hell was she coming from?"

Tyson’s apartment was tiny and a total mess. After a short hall with the only apparent closet space in the apartment was a small kitchen to the right consisting of a fridge, sink full of dirty dishes, and stove with no evident counterspace, and beyond that a bathroom. The rest of the apartment was a single room that had been divided by a curtain. The bedroom portion was a bed and nothing else, and the living room portion was a futon covered in a taupe afghan, side table, and TV. DVDs, video games, and books were crammed all mixed up with each other on a fairly vast array of shelves that covered every visible wall, and there were two foot piles of clothes scattered every few steps on the floor.

Tyson let Blake in and locked the door behind them. “Well, this is…”

He was interrupted as Blake took the backpack off him from behind, spun him around, shoved him against the door, and slammed his tongue into his mouth. Their lips stayed locked together as Blake slid his jacket off, but they had to break off to take off each other’s shirts, kicking off their shoes as they did so. Tyson leaned forward and clacked his teeth in front of Blake’s nose, then whisked down the hall, sliding out of his jeans as he did. Blake was out of his khakis in record time, and took off his socks as he followed him. He found Tyson already splayed naked on the futon, grinning and rubbing his half-hard cock. He threw his hat at Blake but it didn’t even come close.

Blake climbed on top of him, and Tyson received him with both arms, pulling him down and kissing him as they rubbed thighs against each other. Blake ran his hand up Tyson’s torso, feeling his fine hair in his fingers, the taut flesh beneath, the hint of sweat. He ran his thumb over the stiff nipple and then departed to stroke his hard cock.

“Oh god, man, this dick is fucking legendary,” Blake smiled.

Tyson chuckled. “You’re such a fag.” He moaned as Blake descended with another kiss, rubbing his back and hooking their ankles together. Tyson hesitated for a moment, and glanced down. “Holy shit my dick is huge!”

Blake laughed, letting go of his cock for a second. “You’re surprised?”

Tyson grinned. “You must make me harder than usual.”

“Yeah, you probably say that to all the girls.”

“Probably be a loose fit anyhow,” Tyson clapped his hands on Blake’s supple cheeks. “Boy as cute as you with an ass like that? In a town like this? Mmmph,” he bit his lip, shaking his head. “I saw that thing bouncing away to the bathroom and was like ‘oh, that’s mine.’”

Blake moaned and took Tyson’s head in both hands. “So shut the fuck up and take it.” He kissed him again. Tyson had freshly applied deodorant before he left the bar but the long night had taken its toll regardless. Whenever he got close Blake could smell his musk, and it was driving him wild.

Tyson pushed him up so he could bend over the side of the futon and grab a box of condoms from beneath it, fidgeting one out of its wrapper. Blake filled the time by grinding his cock and balls against Tyson’s ass, kissing the base of his neck and shoulder blades.

Tyson returned but before he could apply his condom Blake pulled him upright, then straddled across his lap, his knees at his hips. He leaned up, running the tip of his erect cock up Tyson's sternum, leaving a slug trail of pre on his hair. Tyson reached behind him, and worked the condom over his cock. He grunted and winced. "Fuck that's tight."

Blake chuckled through a moan as he bent down and kissed Tyson on the top of his head. His scalp smelled like dust and coconut.

There was a final rubbery stretch and a snap of elastic. "Ah!" Tyson gasped with a start. "There we go." He slid his hands up Blake's thighs and massaged his ass. They moaned in unison and giggled. Tyson guided him back, and Blake drew up his knees, planting his feet on either side of Tyson’s hips as he felt his thick, throbbing dick sliding along his crack.

Blake held his breath as he felt Tyson begin to enter him, trying to keep his ass from flexing of its own accord. They both let out a moaning sigh as Blake lowered himself onto it. Tyson took Blake’s dick in his hand, giving it a squeeze before rubbing it between his fingertips and thumb. Blake put one hand on Tyson’s shoulder, reached back and put the other on his knee, and began lifting himself up and down on his cock.

Christ, Blake thought to himself, this is one of the biggest dongs I’ve ever had in me. His own dick was hard as a rock, throbbing in Tyson’s hand with every bliss-soaked breath he took.

Tyson’s mouth hung open, looking up at Blake through fluttering eyelids. His free hand gripped the afghan, his strokes on Blakes dick sticky with pre. Blake looked down at him, took his hand from Tyson’s shoulder to run his fingers down the side of his face. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

Blake was so lost in the moment that he had already started cumming before he realized it, splashing strings of semen across Tyson’s hairy chest. Tyson convulsed and grunted through clenched teeth as Blake felt him release within him. He flexed his ass around Tyson’s softening cock, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Tyson’s as they mutually descended from their climaxes.

When Blake began to slump sleepily off him, Tyson maneuvered himself to lie on his side across the futon with Blake in front of him, both resting their heads on the armrest as their faces dominated each other’s view. Tyson had a little acne scar on the side of his nose, what looked like a tiny white scar in the centre of his chin, and archipelagos of barely visible freckles floating on the outside of his eyes.

They lay there for a while, drifting in and out of half-sleep, until the windows began to brighten with a hazy pre-dawn glow.

Blake leaned in. “I should go.”

Tyson moaned, drawing up his shoulders and squinting out of sleepy eyes. “Yeah?”

Blake nodded, and rolled off the futon onto the floor with a thud. Tyson reached out. “Hey.”

Blake smiled, took his hand in his and daintily kissed it. “Hey.” He stood up and went about collecting his clothes, dressing as he went.

Tyson sat up, leaned over to grab his jeans off the floor and searched through the pockets. "Gimme your number."

Blake rhymed off the digits as he buckled up his belt, and watched Tyson sit naked and cross-legged as he saved them into his iphone. "Text me so I can get yours."

"Will do," Tyson slipped into his briefs and stood as Blake retrieved his sweater from a pile by the door.

"Hey," Tyson came up behind him and turned him around, leaving his hands on his hips. "I wanna see you again."

Blake leaned down and kissed him. "Good. You doing anything this weekend?"

Tyson smiled, eyes sparkling. "I think I'm off Sunday. I'll let you know."

Blake kissed him again and turned to leave. "Be in touch. Take it easy."

"Hey," Tyson turned him back around, and hesitated. "I mean it. I like you. I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I got that impression," Blake grinned. He pulled him close and kissed him long and deep, getting a final dose of his scent. Smell of sweat and grapefruit. Taste of whiskey and hot peppers. He pulled his lips away and touched his forehead against Tyson's. "I like you too."

Blake turned out of his arms and opened the door. "Sunday. Maybe."

Tyson smiled. "Night, Blake," and closed the door after him. Blake heard the deadbolt clack into place.

The air was cold outside but there was no wind and with the birds chirping and the sun warming the eastern horizon and having just been so splendidly fucked by a gloriously beautiful stud, Blake felt like he was basking on a hot summer day. He fished his vaporizer out of his back pocket and felt his phone vibrate. He inhaled as he checked the message.

Unknown number. "Get home safe."

That raised a good question. It was still too early for the streetcars and Blake was pretty sure there was no Blue Light bus on Gerrard. He was hoping to avoid a taxi but... he brought up chrome on his phone and checked to see how long it would take to walk to the Annex.

Out of nowhere, Blake felt a sudden pressure in his stomach. Almost like he had been punched or... it was like something was pulling his guts inward. And it was still going... maybe he was drunker than he'd thought.

His phone slipped out of his hand. It had just suddenly got strangely cumbersome. The vaporizer fumbled its way out of his fingers too.

"What the fuck," he muttered aloud, and went to pick them up but got a strange head rush that almost brought him to his knees. He took a step forward and his shoe slipped off his foot. He looked back at it and it looked two sizes too big for him. It wasn't until he felt his pants sliding off that he saw the hem of his sweater hanging loose off him, sliding lower and lower down his pants.

"What the fuck?!"

He was shrinking. It had started slow but was going faster now. He tried to run back to the apartment but his pants fell down and tripped him up around his knees. As he caught himself in the ground, he saw his sweater sleeves hanging off his arms like a loose robe. He cried out but it was getting faster and faster. His sleeves crumpled around his diminishing arms, legs sliding out of his pants and leaving his socks within. His sweater was becoming a thick awkward blanket that weighed heavy on his back. His arms gave out and he fell onto his chest. His sweater billowed out over his head, smothering him. He squirmed forward. It was so hard to breathe. He found the collar, grunted with exertion as he lifted it and stuck his head out, trying to gulp down mouthfuls of air.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the monstrous silhouette of a gigantic hand, blocking out the sky as it rushed towards him.

[Maximilian]

Part 6: Tahar

 

There was a dimly glowing ember of consciousness left in him that made it seem like he had never actually gone to sleep at all. He was so hungover he thought he might be paralyzed. As sensation crept back into his leaden limbs, he almost wished he was. Everything was aching. God, what the hell had he even done last night?

He remembered… driving? It was too patchy and indistinct. What he was doing barely constituted thinking. He resolved to get himself some water to soothe his dry and aching tongue.

Cassidy swung his legs over the bed, and realized as he set his feet down on Tahar's faux fur throw rug that he wasn't at home. As he reached for underwear far too big for him, it all came crashing back chased by an intense headache that lanced through his brain, and he remembered he had spent the night as Butch. Seeing his own skinny arm, he further realized that he returned to his usual form as he slept.

Tahar shifted in bed, and Cassidy froze. He had a change of clothes in the car, but everything here would slide right off of him. Tahar’s alarm clock informed him it was almost seven AM. If he changed now, he’d be stuck as Butch all day. Just the thought of trying to concentrate only made his headache worse. He wouldn’t have tried to change anyone in his state, and doing it to himself was only more difficult. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but one thing was certain. He had to get out of this apartment as soon as possible. He could figure everything else out later; leaving was red hot priority number one.

He quietly lifted off the bed and crouched, collecting his clothes. But as he picked up his jeans, he grabbed only one leg and they unfolded and flopped to the floor, the heavy metal belt buckle (an ox skull design) clattering noisily against the hardwood floor.

Tahar groaned and sat up. "Hey, everything...?" he switched on his bedside lamp and groggily rubbed his eye, then started in shock at the diminutive skinny kid standing hunched over and naked in his apartment, wide eyed and terrified.

"What the... who... BUTCH?!" He turned and shouted into the apartment, pulling his covers over himself.

Cassidy dropped the clothes and held up his hands. "Wait, look, just gimme a second."

Tahar sat up and drew himself back, looking fearfully at Cassidy as he tried to search the apartment. "BUTCH?!" he shouted louder.

"Hold on. Look," Cassidy stammered. "Butch isn't coming."

Tahar paled. He yanked open the door on his nightstand, but failed to find anything appropriate, so instead he picked his lamp up off the table, rearing it over his head. The cord snapped out of the wall and darkness fell upon them again. "What did you do with Butch!"

"Tahar!" Cassidy hesitated a moment, but it was all he could do. "Tahar, it's me!"

"Who the fuck are you?" Tahar faked a throw, and Cassidy drew back with a flinch.

"I know it sounds crazy, Tahar, but it's Butch! I'm Butch!"

He could hear desperate fear tightening Tahar's voice. "What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?"

"Your name is Tahar Mazoud, you're forty-five, you were born in Lebanon and came to Canada with your boyfriend Samuel ten years ago and you were going to get married but he, like, kept putting it off and eventually you broke up and he moved to Seattle."

Tahar had narrowed his gaze but said nothing. Cassidy licked his lips and went on. "The first time we met was three years ago at... like a Pitbull thing at the Eagle. We sucked each other's cocks in an alley and we were gonna go further but we slipped on some grime and you like, smacked your head on a fire escape and started bleeding and it kinda nixed the mood. But then we hooked up over Pride which was only like a week or two later. You were seeing a younger guy... something like Kyle or David or something. He was being a total dick to you and you called him to tell him it was over while we waited for the elevator. This was at your first apartment, the grungy one at King and Dufferin."

Tahar has slowly lowered the lamp until it was resting on his lap. "How do you know all that?"

"I told you..." Cassidy sighed. "I'm Butch."

"That's bullshit," Tahar shook his head.

"It's not," Cassidy insisted. "Look, I can explain everything to you, I swear. I can prove it too just not like... Oh my god I'm just so hungover." He massaged his brow.

Tahar plugged the lamp back in and it flickered to life. He peered at Cassidy intensely. His eyes were the same, Cassidy knew. He hoped Tahar could see it. Tahar set the lamp down on the table. "I'm forty-four."

"Oh. Sorry."

Tahar paused, and sighed. "Who are you?"

"I'll tell you," Cassidy nodded. "I'll tell you everything."

 

***

 

The alarm on Drew's cell phone erupted with a blast of mid-era Peter Gabriels and he swiped it off with a sigh. Jamie turned over next to him, pulling the duvet off his shoulder. Drew let him have it, throwing off the covers and sitting up. He yawned, stood, stretched, scratched his ass, yawned again, and grabbed some clothes out of the dresser before departing to the bathroom.

Oprah nuzzled his ankles affectionately until he turned on the shower, then she bolted out the open door.

Drew stepped into the hot shower and thought about how it was supposed to rain all week and how he should probably wear a jacket. Then he thought about the sex they had had last night.

Drew had thought it was so hot. Jamie had given him a massage during the end of The French Connection which had progressed into a makeout session during the credits. Drew sucked Jamie off on the couch, and though he stayed hard, Jamie never came. They took it into the bedroom where they sucked, stroked, and fucked for ninety minutes straight. Drew managed to cum twice. Jamie, though...

He didn't know how to bring it up. Maybe you should talk to someone? Maybe we can get some pills? Fuck. There was no way to frame that conversation in a way that didn’t make him look weak, at least from Jamie’s perspective. He had a lot invested in his… well, it was a very specific version of integrity. Mostly he thought relying on modern contrivances were a bad call. An absolute last resort. So any sort of medication, or psychiatric help, would never fly.

He was perfectly reasonable about other people needing help, but the standards he applied to everyone else had always been vastly removed from the ones he set for himself.

Jamie was complicated. He had always been complicated, which made it hard to talk about this kind of thing with him. Whenever Jamie said "you wouldn't understand," Drew generally took it for granted. But lately it wasn't a matter of what Jamie couldn't say, and more what he refused to say. Drew's consultations with Dr. Google had informed him that sudden changes in routine or living arrangements could contribute to depression, the most recurring non-physiological reason for erectile dysfunction. He didn't want to make it a confrontation, and he didn't want Jamie to blame himself - which he was probably doing already - but until Jamie came clean with whatever he wasn't telling him, Drew didn't know what he was supposed to do. He had never been able to make Jamie see himself the way Drew did. He didn't know if that would fix anything but he was sure it would at least help.

Drew stepped out of the shower and dressed, looking at himself in the foggy mirror. He wiped it clean to tie his tie. He sighed, looking down at his suit hugging tight around his middle. Maybe he was the problem. Maybe Jamie had finally noticed Drew wasn't the slim, fit gym twink he fell for. Drew had to figure something out. This line of thought was making him feel like shit.

He finished up in the bathroom and grabbed his jacket off the chair he'd thrown it on the night before. He thought about going in to kiss Jamie goodbye, but grabbed an apple and left without going back to the room. He'd probably still be sleeping anyway.

 

***

 

Tahar had set his jaw, but felt like he would shatter his teeth at any moment. He was keeping it together and Cassidy seemed oblivious, but Tahar was absolutely furious.

The man in front of him had started out sullen and apologetic but after a cup of coffee and as he got further into the story, Cassidy had become lost in the telling. He sounded almost proud of himself. It was just too much. It was a ridiculous fantasy that didn't make any sense. But Tahar kept noticing things. He heard hints of Butch in his voice. He spotted little details - the little pink scar under his eye; the mole behind his ear; the shape of his nose - things he would remember about Butch when he saw him again after a long absence. This stupid child was Butch. Had always been Butch.

Cassidy’s boyfriend had told him his fantasies of growing into a hulking giant and so he had decided to make it happen. But he needed to experiment on a bunch of people he didn't give a shit about first in case it was dangerous. So he began making trips into the city, hanging around Church Street and using his powers to make guys more attractive before he fucked them. That's not how Cassidy had explained it, but it sounded like that to Tahar.

And who was Butch? Butch was a mask Cassidy could wear to escape any notice, so if anything ever had gone wrong he could sneak off undetected and never have to answer for what he'd done. According to Cassidy, that had never happened, and he had gotten good enough that that wasn’t even a concern. The subterfuge wasn't really necessary anymore. But from the sound of it, he had come to like being Butch. Why wouldn’t he? Butch was cool and this asshole was a loser.

He was fucking married? Tahar was this psycho's guy on the side? Thinking of all the things he had done with Butch, all the things he had told him, all the things he had felt about him. None of it had been real. It was just a game this pompous little shit was playing.

He just went on and on, a self-satisfied smirk as he listed off his accomplishments, sitting there in Tahar's black cotton bathrobe that hung loose off him but would've barely gotten around Butch.

"Oh my god, last night I tried a bunch of new things. It's coming easier and easier. Like, I was able to grow someone without looking about them. I managed to change like six or seven people without them noticing."

Tahar looked at him. "Have you ever done anything to me?"

Cassidy leaned on the table, furrowing his brow. He allowed himself a thoughtful pause. "No, actually."

"How come?"

Cassidy cocked his head, then leaned back in his chair, perplexed. "Y'know I honestly don't know. I mean you're already so hot, Tahar."

He really didn't like hearing Cassidy say his name. He shook his head. "You've been waving your wand around at a lot of very attractive men. Why not me?"

Cassidy shrugged. "I mean it, I don't actually know... like, I don't think it ever occurred to me. And, well like, that first night I was already too drunk by the time I met you and..."

"Are you sober now?" asked Tahar, sipping his coffee.

Cassidy grinned and raised his mug of coffee. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Tahar set down his cup. "Can you do it now?"

Cassidy frowned. "What?"

Tahar had already begun unbuttoning his shirt. "You said you made your husband ten feet tall."

"Yeah..."

Tahar slipped out of his shirt and threw it over a chair. "Prove it."

"But..." Cassidy glanced at the bronze clock on the wall. "Don't you have work?"

Tahar shrugged. "I'll call in."

Cassidy smiled apprehensively. "I don't know if..."

"Really?" Tahar put his hands on the backrest and leaned down. "Really? After all that, you're not going to let me see it? You don't think you owe me that? And then some?"

Cassidy looked down, his cheeks flush. "I... how... what do you want me to do?"

"Grow me. Can you even do anything else?"

"Not really," he shook his head. "I mean not without a... map or something. Well, I call it a map, anyway. Some people--"

"All right then," Tahar stood up, spreading his arms. "Show me some magic."

Cassidy looked up at him, still uncertain. "Like how... big do you wanna get?"

"Bigger than you've ever made anyone," Tahar replied without missing a beat.

Cassidy started with a chuckle. "I don't know about that. That's like, pretty big."

Tahar didn't say anything, just spread his arms wider. Cassidy smiled smugly, then sighed in acquiescence.

Tahar felt a strange tickle run down his spine. “Is that…?”

“Yeah it’s like… well I call it a ‘link.’” Cassidy took a deep breath and grinned. “Was there somewhere specific you wanted to get it started?”

Tahar shrugged. “You’re the expert.”

Cassidy’s grin widened.

Tahar felt his body getting warm. He looked down and saw goosebumps rising on his arm. He felt strangely energized. This couldn't all just be placebo effect. But there was no way this was actually going to pan out. Tahar kept half-expecting this elaborately orchestrated ruse to reveal itself. Butch to pop out of a closet and deride him for believing this nonsense. But as he continued feeling these strange sensations undulating throughout his body, he knew it wasn't bullshit. This was happening.

Tahar drew a sharp breath as he felt his crotch suddenly grow heavy. He looked down and saw his bulge inflating in his jeans. His dick was tingling, radiating  throbs of pleasure up his torso. He quickly unzipped his fly and squirmed out of his pants, watching his briefs fill up with his swelling cock and balls, their outline becoming more and more pronounced with every passing second. It felt amazing and he knew it was making him hard, but it was already well over the thirteen centimetres he usually peaked at, easily on its way to thirty with no signs of stopping. He reached into his briefs, gasping as he felt its weight in his hand, and hauled it out. It was half-hard, a foot long, and thick as a beer bottle. His bulging head was still mostly cloaked in foreskin. It pulsed larger and harder with every heartbeat, and Tahar felt it hanging heavier and heavier off of his body. It felt so good, and he felt more aroused than he thought had been possible. His cock continued swelling and stiffening, his dark vein throbbing thick along his shaft, his gleaming head fully exposed, until it stuck out perpendicular from his body, nearly two feet long.

Tahar laughed with bewilderment. "This is...impossible!"

Cassidy chuckled. "Oh my god, we are just getting started."

Tahar staggered suddenly, his footing having become uneven as his feet jumped three sizes bigger. First one, then the other. He looked down, saw his toes bunching up as his sole slid across the floor, getting wider and longer. He lifted his feet up, standing on his heels, and stretched out his toes, slapping the balls of his feet back down on the floor. There was a strangely gratifying ache of growing pains humming through the bones of his feet. He felt it shoot up his fibula as his calves lengthened, pushing him taller. His pelvis widened, his back arched as every vertebrate popped larger in rapid sequence. Tahar looked down, still holding the back of the chair, and watched his elbows angle sharper as his arms stretched longer. He pushed himself up, and looked down at his gangly body, stretched out and skinny save for his fat throbbing cock trembling a foot above the tabletop.

Warm, thick, juicy muscle began to radiate along his limbs, oozing along his bones. The ache and strain of too little flesh stretched thin was washed away in waves of wet, hot heaviness. His arms thickened into their usual proportions then grew beyond them, his caramel skin stretching over swelling globes of solid brawn.

He gasped as he felt an intense tingling in his anus as his cheeks inflated like balloons, pressing harder against each other as they grew bigger and bigger. Muscles blossomed up his back like sinewy branches of an oak tree, and he felt his lats fattening up with hard thick beef that began to push against his biceps. God it all felt so amazing. He couldn't believe any of it. When was he going to finally wake up from this ridiculous dream?

Tahar had already had a ghostly outline of a six pack and adonis belt but he felt them materializing into firm tight specimens of perfection, abs popping out of his flat stomach one by one. The deep rivulets forming on his back sprang up to his neck, raising his traps from their long sleep and inflating his shoulders bigger than basketballs.

His pecs stretched huge from his ribs, curtains of muscle falling from his collarbone, layer after layer after layer, his nipples hardening as they angled further and further downwards, until he had a chest he could have rested his mug of coffee on.

He panted, feeling sweat beading on his brow as he felt the changes finish. He turned his head upwards and threw up his arms into a double flex, closing his eyes and just letting himself feel his own hugeness, his biceps bulging against his meaty forearms.

What would those meatheads at the gym think if they saw him like that? He imagined them lining up to service his massive dong. The thought was so titillating he felt his cock twitch as a bead of precum began to form at the tip.

Cassidy giggled, pulling him halfway from his reverie. "It almost looks skinny now..."

Tahar shuddered as he felt his cock bloat to nearly twice its girth. He dropped his arms and looked down at Cassidy. "Mmmm.... more."

"Bigger dick? Really?" Cassidy smirked.

Tahar shook his head. "Everything."

Cassidy's self-satisfied grin faltered. "Are you... I don't know, Tahar. I mean... this could be getting dangerous. I read about..."

Tahar reached down and yanked his dinner table off the ground like it was a board game, sending the two mugs of coffee clattering to the ground and dashing their contents against the baseboard. He tossed it idly into a corner of his apartment, smashing a floor lamp and snapping two legs from the table in the process.

Cassidy sat frozen, his eyes wide, his face pale, his knees pressed together in exposed terror. Tahar took two deliberate steps to close the distance between them, his huge form casting a dark shadow across Cassidy, his hard cock looming over his head like a clenched fist.

"Shut the fuck up and do what I tell you."

Cassidy cowered away, transfixed with shock, horrific realization blossoming on his face. He was shaking his head in slight, quick movements, which Tahar first thought to be protests against his commands, but the more he watched Cassidy it seemed to be more of him fighting against himself, of trying to clap shackles back on something that had been unleashed.

Waves of hot scintillating arousal seeped out from his crotch, and Tahar moaned as he felt his body expanding once more. Squelches and sounds like stretching rubber issues from all over his body, muffled by increasing mounds of thick hard flesh. It was all happening at once, so fast he had trouble keeping track of everything. His already massive biceps were inflating with even more size, his abs shuffled against each other as his torso stretched taller. his pecs swelled almost up to his chin, obscuring his view of Cassidy. His feet bulged larger, and he briefly lost balance, leaning against the wall for support with a hand that was twice the size of his wall clock and still pumping larger. He shuddered, jolts of pleasure bouncing through his body, as his cock rose up over the horizon of his pecs, shining head varnished with a thick coat of pre.

Still growing, Tahar lowered himself to sit on the floor as carefully as he could, but knocked over another lamp and an accent table as he went. He planted his feet on the floor. His shoulders were touching picture frames he had had to reach up to hang. He had to be over ten feet tall now. He massaged his pillar of a cock with both hands, now too thick for only one, and craned his neck forward, puckering his mouth for his cockhead. It was still too far to reach, until it surged up to meet his lips, and he stuck his tongue down his own gaping urethra. It was like an explosion of white fire in his brain, careening through his body until every part of him was alight.

It took nearly every ounce of will he had, but he forced himself to stop. Panting for air, dazed in pleasure, he felt as though he had lost virtually all bearings of who or where he was. But he had to take care of something first.

He had stopped growing. He couldn't be sure when, but his head nearly reached the ceiling even sitting down, and his legs, even with the knees bent, were sprawled across the entire room. Cassidy had stood and put his back to the kitchen counter, seemingly trying to flatten himself against it, but his limbs were poised to dart off at a moment's notice. In the loose fitting bathrobe he looked like a scandalized leading lady from a 50s drama. The empty chair alone and toylike in the middle of the room.

Tahar took a deep breath. "You can go now."

Cassidy trembled. "Wh... what?"

"Did I stutter? Fuck off out of my house."

"Tahar... c'mon I..."

"Don't say my name like we're fucking buds. Do you even realize what it is you've done?"

"But I... Tahar we ARE friends."

"No we're-- yknow what? Fuck you, fuck your dumb chump of a husband, and fuck the man you made up for me to.... look just leave. Or did you want me to make you?"

Cassidy stood his ground for a second before Tahar raised his hand. Then he bolted for the bed, scrabbling his clothes into a bundle and racing for the door, kicking his oversized boots ahead of him.

"Hey," Tahar called as Cassidy was about to open the door. He turned around, a hopeful look on his face. "If I ever, EVER see Butch again? I will make it my personal mission to ruin your fucking life."

Cassidy looked for a moment like he was going to object, but his jaw was quivering and his knees were shaking, and he spun out the door, slamming it behind him.

Free of his troubling distraction, Tahar moaned contentedly as he returned his attention to his fantastically oversized cock. The fire returned with new vigor as if the brief lapse had only been stoking the embers. He leaned back against the wall, felt his thick wide back spread across it, hugging the shaft of his dick into the deep valley between his prodigious pecs, so that every breath he took he couldn't help but stroke himself. Every heartbeat brought him a fraction closer to his completion, and his heart was like a jackhammer in his ribcage.

He was enormous. He had to be the biggest guy who'd ever lived. It was hard to guess from his sitting position, but he felt like looking into a second story window would had just gotten a lot easier.

And he was strong, powerful. He took one hand from his cock to flex his bicep, bulging obscenely massive, and scraped his knuckles against the ceiling. He loved this feeling. So heavy, thick, and big. Those boys at the gym would bug out the moment they saw him. He could picture them even now, gaping at him as he put on a flexing show for him, stroking his massive dong and maybe giving them a taste if they asked nicely.

Tahar felt the pressure building. He returned his second hand to his shaft and his tongue to the slit on his cockhead.

To call what followed an orgasm would not do it justice. As his watermelon-sized balls shot a geyser of cum out of his column-sized cock, he lost, for a moment, all sense of where, who, and what he was, as if everything had been stripped away and left nothing but an essence of pleasure and ecstasy, removed from any physical anchor at all. He knew things were going on around him, like the nonstop firehose of jizz still spraying his face and chest, or the dents in the floorboards his heels were leaving, but he wouldn't have been able to even begin thinking about reacting to it even if he could. He was paralyzed in bliss.

As his overwhelming sensory explosion settled into warmly befuddled afterglow, Tahar entered into a state of sublime contentment and tranquility, where all the most dire problems in his life and the world were trivialities; where all his greatest fears and traumas were just distractions he had blown out of proportion. He saw his life up to then - maybe the whole world itself - from a high vantage point greatly disconnected from them yet through a lens of such clarity it could not be refuted. And it was beautiful, vital, and good, from its war-ravaged ruins to its islands of trash to its putrid fields of poisonous tar.

Where moments before they had been sources of tremendous power, Tahar felt suddenly the impossible weight of his oversized limbs, pulling him down into a soft and welcoming slumber. He leaned back, smacked his lips, and let sleep take him. And as he drifted into that warm, still ocean, he thought to himself: "Maybe that Cassidy's not such a bad kid."

[spacevlad]

Ho-ly shit. An all-time classic.

[spacevlad]

I just want to underscore how amazing the last two chapters were. I can't stop thinking about them. Blake's chapter was sweet and fun and sexy, and I can't wait to see who shrunk him and what's going on there. The Tahar chapter was thrilling, unbelievably hot. Your descriptions of growth, the way people say the things they say, the hunger for more and reveling in the power and size he has...and just how enormous he gets, the description of that orgasm...man. Your writing is awesome and this story premise is so great.

I wait with bated breath for the next chapter, whether it's about Butch, Brent, giant-sized Tahar, or whoever.

[Hanugumo]

I think you should write a chapter about Cassidy and how he rethinks everything he has been doing while he pretty much had been cheating while he's married, hurt the feelings of the person he had been cheating his husband with and also how he has not even thought of the feelings of the people around him in all this. How selfish he had been and everything. And also how probably stupid he has been in making Tahar a giant, who probably would not mind taking Cassidy for himself and forcing him to grow him even bigger and everything. <=3 I bet that would be quite the great chapter. ^^

I dunno if it will be as great as this one though man. Wow. 8D <3

[Maximilian]

Really appreciate all the feedback and encouragement, gentlemen. Glad you're enjoying it.

No transformative growth in this chapter. Hope you like it regardless.

 

 

Part 7: Brent

 

Brent shuffled through the turnstile and adjusted his gym bag on his shoulder as he pushed the glass doors open and walked out into the morning air. He had foregone a shower and the heat wave wasn't helping, but he wasn't going to spend a minute in that locker room that he didn't have to. He could grab a quick shower back at rez before he headed to the library.

He didn't have to deal with this crap. His class load for second year looked like it would murder any free time he had, and that was assuming he could squeeze a pass out of Argumentative Theory, which was hardly a guarantee. If he made the team it would suck up any free time he had left, and he had no desire to spend it with a team full of guys who hated him.

Brent pulled out his phone to check the time. It was going to be tight. He checked a text message from his brother. Below it was the draft of an unsent message to Mahtab.

Im sorry can we plz talk

He held his thumb over the send icon.

"Yo Brent wait up!"

Brent put his phone to sleep and back in his pocket as he turned to see spritely little Nate jogging up from behind. Brent cringed. Nate hadn't joined in on the passive aggressive hostilities and veiled homophobic slurs but Brent doubted he had anything nice to say.

Nate smiled that crooked mischievous, dimple-pinching smirk he always wore as he caught up to Brent. "Shit dude, you can really move. That beef don't slow you down too much." His reedy Kentucky drawl seemed friendly enough, but Brent wasn't in the mood to extend the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah," he mumbled, turning and continuing on his way. He sighed impatiently as Nate fell in step next to him.

Nate chuckled. "You were outa there in a hurry, man."

"Can you blame me?"

Nate waved his hand. "Pfft. Don't let those pussies get to you man. You seen the record this season? Fuckin losers oughta find a new hobby, ask me. You don't need to deal with that crap." Nate pulled a pack of Pall Malls out of his gym back and fiddled a cigarette out. Nate was a head shorter than Brent, probably five-six or seven. He was one of the shorter guys on the team but he was fast and could still do some damage.

"Yeah well..." Brent tread carefully. He felt like he was being set up. "I don't know if it's about that, and... I dunno." Except that he did know. Everyone was angry about what happened to Tyler and Farhan.

Nate offered a cigarette to Brent, who shook his head, and Nate fired up a lighter. He shook his head with a groan once he had the cigarette lit. "What, Ty and Farhan? Whatever man. Not your fault Ty was juicing and Farhan's a cokehead."

"Maybe. But who the hell screens for drugs at the END of a season?"

Nate took a drag. "Fuck that. Not your problem."

Brent sighed. "Someone else's problem but still my fault."

Nate chuckled. "You really did blow up overnight, man. Was somethin else. How'd you even do that 'nyway? Legit workout plan or what?"

Brent knew better than to tell the truth but "I don't know it just happened" had started wearing thin, even after his drug test came back clean as a whistle. He couldn't help but think back to the night at the Black Eagle, as he stared down as his growing cock, swelling pecs, that big guy next to him making great strides not to look at him... Well, Nate, I'm pretty sure it was a magic spell. Which sounded better?

Nate stifled a strange giggle. "Oh man."

Brent looked at him. "Huh?"

Nate took another puff from his cigarette. "Nuthin. You don't have to tell me tho, man, I like the mystery."

"Seriously, Nate, I really don't..."

"S'all good, man, don't worry 'bout it," Nate chuckled. "Looks good on ya, by the way."

Brent raised a suspicious eyebrow. "... Thanks?"

Nate smirked. "You got any exams left?"

"Just Argumentative Theory on Friday."

Nate laughed. "Aww man, modes o' reasoning? Good fuckin luck dude."

"Yeah I'm not looking forward to it."

"What about after?" Nate asked. "Stayin around for the summer or... you're from Thunder Bay right?"

"Yeah," Brent nodded, though he didn't recall ever mentioning it.

"That far?"

"Yeah it’s like a day’s drive. I'm stayin in T-dot. Subletting an apartment on Sheppard." Brent liked that they weren't talking about the team anymore but couldn't shake the feeling he was being tricked somehow. "What about you are you going back to the States?"

"Naw man, I'm stayin on rez for the summer." Nate flicked ash from his cigarette and examined how much was left. "In Winters. Should come party sometime."

"Uhh... yeah. Sure." Couldn't hurt.

"N'fact you doin anything tonight? We should grab a drink at the Underground or something."

Brent frowned. Not he was sure this was a trap. Nate laughed. "Would you stop with that man? Lookin at me like I'm about to mug you or somethin."

"Sorry I uhh... I can't though I gotta study for this exam, man."

"All fuckin day? It's like ten AM!" Nate scoffed.

"I really sucked at this class dude I can't afford to..."

"Naw man, you're not gonna retain any of that shit if you just go nonstop." Nate gave him another impish smile with his eyes sparkling. "Aright look, why don't you go back to rez, study all day, then meet me at the Underground at like seven, right? Have a few drinks, take a break, go back and get some more readin done so you can dream 'bout strawman arguments and fallacious appeals to authority. An' if you ain't there I'm gonna drag you outa your room. Outa concern for your mental health." Nate gave him a smack on the shoulder and jogged across the street. "See ya then man."

Brent felt himself grinning for the first time that day. "You don't even know where I live."

Nate had turned up the traffic circle around campus but turned, walking backwards as he shouted back. "Stong; ninth floor! Seven sharp, bro!"

Brent furrowed his brow, shrugged, and continued on his way, crossing his fingers and hoping a shower was free.

 

***

 

"Mister Dietrich?"

Jamie looked up from reading the back of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies and at the little girl he'd swear he'd never seen before who apparently knew his name. It wasn't until he looked her over and saw that her right arm ended just above the elbow that he clued in.

"Abbie? Holy shit Abbie?"

She smiled and nodded, glancing behind her. "Yeah."

"Oh wow I didn't recognize you at all." He put the book back on the shelf and stepped towards her.

"Yeah I, uhh... I've been dying my hair for a while." She had a weird look in her eye and took a step back.

Jamie stopped. "Are you... is everything ok?"

"Yeah just..." she looked back and forth. "Daddy uhh... Daddy said I'm not supposed to... talk, to..." she trailed off.

What the fuck? Jamie raised his head, scanning for a face he'd recognize among the other patrons of the BMV. "Is he here?"

Abbie shook her head. "No I just..." she dropped her eyes to the floor.

"Hey, it's all right." Jamie wanted to reassure her but didn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable. He paused. "What did your dad say about me?"

Abbie shook her head. "I'm sorry. Seriously, I didn't believe him."

"It's okay, hon," Jamie sighed.

"He said... he said there was something wrong with you. Mom thinks you're crazy."

That fucking Sheila Morris. Now that was a pot to kettle scenario if he'd ever heard one. Jamie felt himself getting angrier and angrier but kept his cool. None of that was Abbie's fault.

"Is that... he told you that's why I'm not working with him anymore?"

Abbie nodded. "He said you had a.... a nervous breakdown?"

Christ what a fucking tool. Jamie shook his head and leaned on the bookshelf. "Well Abbie I know I don't need to tell you your dad's a bit of a dick sometimes."

Abbie smiled. She took a step forward and put her only full arm around him. "I'm sorry. I missed you."

Jamie hugged her back. "Me too hon." They embraced a moment before she stepped back again, fiddling with a charm hanging off her backpack.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"P A day," she replied with a shrug. "I'm  meeting Laura for a movie. Furious 7." She rolled her eyes. "Gonna be so dumb. "

Jamie shrugged. "Yeah probably."

"Daddy's been such an asshole. He won't let me watch the Sopranos. He hid his boxed set."

"I'm tellin you, Abbie, learn how to torrent and you'll be the most popular kid in school."

Abbie smiled. "I should go, the movie's at one."

Jamie pointed his thumb behind him at nowhere in particular. "Yeah I'm meeting someone too."

Abbie waved and turned to go. "I'll add you on Facebook. My dad can go fuck himself."

Jamie put a hand to his heart. "Aww, that's so sweet. Bye Abbie."

He felt his fist clenching at his side. That fucking garbage asshole son of a bitch Harold Morris could eat a shit sandwich and die. Jamie had already encountered vestiges of some rumour about him when he had gone for interviews at new agencies. He had assumed it wasn't all total bullshit. But if Morris wanted to ruin his reputation in the industry, that was one thing. Involving Abbie was just fucking gross. Jamie had babysat her for years. He'd had to tell her what periods were. He'd introduced her to the Powerpuff Girls. They were friends, and Jamie had always been proud that she had an adult she trusted when she felt she couldn't go to her parents.

What's more, he had been friends with Morris too. They hadn't spoken since Jamie left the agency but he'd always hoped they'd be able to put it behind them at some point.

Jamie rehearsed lectures he'd give to Morris as he left the BMV. It was beautiful out. There was supposed to be a high of like twenty-three or something and even his light jacket seemed too much. He tried to forget about Morris and by the time he got to the Green Beanery, he had pretty much succeeded.

Adam was already there. They waved to each other but Jamie got a coffee - from a barista he was fairly certain he'd slept with years earlier - before going over to the table.

"Hey man," Adam smiled as he took out his earbuds. "How's things?"

"Hey." Jamie nodded and threw his jacket over the seat back before he sat down. "Good. You?"

"All right. I was just at U of T, I'm gonna take a couple courses in the fall."

"Awesome." Jamie tried to take a sip of coffee but it was still way too hot. He leaned over the table. "Hey do you remember that day we met up at Java and I brought the guy I'd been hanging out with?" He whispered conspiratorially.

"Uhh..."

"You were with Melissa and Jenn. It was Nuit Blanche that night."

Adam nodded. "Oh yeah, okay."

Jamie tilted his head towards the counter. "Was it that guy?"

Adam glanced over and grinned wide. "I think it was."

Jamie nodded. "Just checkin."

"Hey so... I just wanted to apologize again for that night it was..."

Jamie sighed. "Don't worry about it, Adam. It was a shock but.... it's fine, honestly. It's been, uhh, interesting knowledge to carry around." He tested his coffee again. Still too hot. "You still... doin that?"

Adam nodded with a chuckle. "Fuck, dude. Nearly every day I don't work nights. Cass is getting better and better, too. It's amazing."

"Does anyone else know about it?" Jamie asked, dusting some sugar from the tabletop.

"Some of Cass' friends. I've wanted to tell my buddy Keith but... I dunno.” Adam shook his head. “Well, actually, this is kinda the reason I wanted to talk.”

Adam looked around, and grabbed his bag up from off the floor and onto his lap. He fished a notebook out of it. “I… well maybe it’ll be easier just to read it.” Adam flipped the cover open and handed it to Jamie.

Scrawled all over the page was a letter written in Adam’s handwriting. The paper was worn, and the letter had been exhaustively edited, with multiple words replaced and whole paragraphs scribbled out. Jamie was about to ask why he didn’t just write in pencil but suppressed the urge. It read:

“Hi,

You’re receiving this because you’re a friend, colleague, or family member of myself, Adam Fauvelle. I’m writing you to prepare you for what may seem like a shocking and sudden transition, which may defy conventional logic.

I know it might seem silly or juvenile, but I always wanted to be a much physically larger person, but it had always seemed impossible. I’ve discovered a way I can realize my dream, and have decided to go through with it. This is not a surgical procedure, and I can assure you it is safe and there is no risk of danger.

There are going to be some logistical issues with being this size, but please be assured that I have put a great deal of thought into this and understand these issues. This is what I want, and I hope that you care enough about me to respect my decision.

If you would like to ask me anything about it, feel free to do so and I will answer your concerns as best I can.

Thanks for reading.”

Jamie set the notebook down, closed it and paused. “So wait… you’re talking about being that size… like in public?”

“I’m talking about being bigger all the time,” said Adam.

“I thought it only lasts like six hours or something.”

“There’s different ways of doing it,” Adam explained. “Cassidy could have made any of those changes permanent.”

“Adam,” Jamie looked at him uncertainly. “I know you say here you’ve thought about it, but... I mean, are you really sure about this? This is… this would change your whole life. I mean… how would you even get around when you’re too big for a car?”

“Jamie I’ve talked a lot of this out with Cass,” Adam leaned closer on his elbows. “We’ve planned a lot of that kinda stuff out. There’s gonna be a few trade-offs, sure, but this is what I want.”

“But why?” asked Jamie. “I mean if you get off on it, that’s one thing. What do you have to gain from this?”

Adam sighed. “Jamie…” he held out his hand, gesturing as he spoke, “when I’m bigger, I feel like this is who I am. I…” he paused, dropped his hand to the table and looked out the window. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but this feels like a mask, like a… costume.” He waved his hands down his body. “I feel like I’m living a lie.”

“Adam, listen to me,” Jamie tapped the notebook with his finger. “This? Will not be enough. People won’t know how to react to you. This will get you media attention, probably the cops, the government; are you prepared for all that? For ANY of that?”

Adam looked down into his coffee, slowly rotating it back and forth on the table.

Jamie leaned forward and put his hand on Adam's arm. "Hey, look, you know I love you right? You deserve to be who you wanna be, it's just... now you can have your cake and eat it too, I don't get why you would wanna mess with that."

"I told you. I mean you understand, right?" Adam pointed at him. "You had to pretend to be someone you're not."

"Oh come on, Adam," Jamie withdrew his hand and leaned back. "We're all living a fucking lie. That's all any of this is." He waved a hand at their surroundings. "The only thing that keeps any of this from collapsing in on itself is a long list of lies we've all agreed to indulge."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh here we go."

"Well what do you want, Adam? We're all making identity sacrifices. You shouldn't see being a regular-sized human as a personal failing or an... obstacle preventing your self-actualization." Jamie sighed, sitting up. "Look, if there's no talking you out of this then fine, do whatever you want. But if you were running this past me to get my take on it, I think it's a really bad idea."

Adam looked like he was about to protest, but stopped himself, tapping his foot restlessly. "All right... fair enough."

"I'm here for you though, whatever you decide, okay?" Jamie smiled encouragingly. Adam cracked a grin and nodded.

"So..." Jamie said slowly, "are we talking anytime soon or..."

Adam shrugged. "Kinda up in the air. Cass wants to get more practice in using the permanent method."

Jamie took a gulp of coffee. "How're you gonna do that?"

Adam grinned bashfully. "We've been bouncin around a few ideas."

Jamie leaned forward. "Do tell."

 

***

 

Brent descended the stairs into the Underground glancing around apprehensively. One eye was looking for Nate, the other for anyone else on the team. Jayson and Luke were frequent patrons, and while they had held off on being openly hostile to him he knew they were talking about him to the rest of the team. He didn't want to have to worry about them all night. If they were there he’d just make Nate go to the Ab instead.

He was halfway through scanning the room when he felt fingers tickling his side. He turned to see Nate standing there giggling.

"Sup, big guy?" He smiled, stepping in front of Brent and leading him down the rest of the stairs. "All studied up?"

"Goin good, yeah," Brent nodded. "You were right, though. Definitely could use a break."

"Course I am," Nate slapped his hands together. "Awright, you find us a table I'll grab a pitcher."

Nate loped off to the bar, his cute little ass bouncing along behind him. Brent turned and found a table near the back corner. It was the only free table with a booth attached, though the place was mostly empty. Full enough to keep its skeleton crew busy, though. It was all exams and packing and whatever. Farhan had told him to expect a lull at year's end right before all the partying took off at full tilt. And now more than ever Brent assumed Farhan was the authority on partying - though it was, of course, fallacious to assume his assertions were logical.

Brent really felt like he was getting hit on but he was pretty sure Nate was straight. He'd just assumed he was the only homo in the football hopefuls, otherwise no one would have made such a big deal when he'd come out. Unless he was in the closet to them, or... Brent sighed. It had been such a weird year. He had considered holding out a year and coming out in second year, just so he had a foundation first as a normal straight football bro. Maybe that would've been for the best, but when he got to Toronto everything had just been gay alliance this and solidarity this and they had a gay radio station for Christ's sake. Proud FM. 103.9. A year straight just seemed like a wasted opportunity.

Still, maybe a year of just being one of the guys would've been a good buffer.

Nate finally came back with a pitcher and two glasses. "Fuck, man. Service is balls 'round here."

Brent shrugged. "Exam season."

Nate slid in across from him and poured them both a pint, then raised his. "To first year down."

Brent grinned. "Nearly."

They clinked their glasses together and both took a long draw.

"So..." Brent began, "uhh... how do you like Canada?"

Nate chuckled. "That was a cold fuckin winter man."

"You think it's bad down here you should come up to Thunder Bay."

"I like that the drinking age is nineteen," said Nate, taking another swig, and shrugged. "I dunno. It's been fun. Gon' stick it out for a few years. Hey," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "feel bad not gettin to know you more over the season, man."

Brent shrugged, sipping his beer.

"You just always had your little straight posse aroun' and I was like naw, he's got all that goin on." Straight posse? Brent paused, giving him a look. Nate grinned wider. "Didn't know I was queer?"

Brent blushed. "Uhh... no, I... umm..."

Nate chuckled, leaning back. "S'cool, brah."

"I thought I was the only, uhh... y'know, gay guy on the team." Brent took a big swig of beer and realized he'd drained the glass.

Nate laughed. "Don't mean to steal your thunder, man. But, uhh..." he smirked. "S' not just you an' me, either."

Brent stopped in the middle of refilling his pint. "Really? Who?"

Nate snickered and tipped the pitcher in Brent's hand, emptying the rest into his glass. "I never kiss and tell." He slid out of the booth and took the empty pitcher from Brent. "I'll get us a refill."

Brent shook his head, pushing his chair back. "Hey I got this one."

Nate drew the pitcher back, as if trying to keep it out of reach from him. "Nah nah, man. S'on me tonight."

He darted off with his seemingly ever-present chuckle before Brent had a chance to object further.

So maybe Nate wasn't flirty with everyone after all. Just goes to show you, Brent supposed. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, or more properly: the informal fallacy of argument from ignorance.

Brent checked his phone as a figure appeared next to him. He assumed it to be a waiter. "We're good thanks," he glanced up with a polite grin. Then he looked again. "Oh, hey Tyler."

Tyler was the biggest guy on the team, though after Brent's little boost he had closed the gap quite a bit. Nevertheless, Tyler was puffing out his chest as much as he could. Rob was standing behind him, tapping him on the shoulder and being ignored.

"Oh," Tyler mocked sarcastically. "Hey asshole." His slurring speech and hazy eyes gave pretty good indication of his state of mind.

"Ty c'mon, let's just go man," Rob tried to nudge him away, but Tyler shook him off.Brent felt himself blushing. People were starting to look.

"Tyler, I told you, I'm sorry," Brent apologized quietly. "I don't know how..."

"Oh you're sorry, you're soooooo sorry. Fuckin pussy." He staggered a bit. He was pretty far gone for, like, seven-thirty on a Wednesday. Rob helped steady him. "Not sorry enough to quit the team. Or tell me how you fucking did it."

"Ty, fuck man," Rob hissed, "everyone's looking at you."

"'Sup guys?" Nate chirped as he shouldered past Rob to get to the table. He sat down as Tyler glared at him. "Whoa-ho-ho, dawg," he laughed, "THIS is awkward."

"What the fuck, Nate?"

"Ty, come on! Fuckin christ."

"What THE fuck, Ty?" Nate spat. "What'd you even come over here for? Just to be a tool?"

"Fuck you you fucking traitor!" Tyler brushed Rob away when he grabbed him by the arm. "I put three fucking years into that team and now I'm fucked for my last year. Cuz of this fuckin faggot."

The straight couple next to them gasped and the girl shook her head, muttering "Jesus Christ" under her breath.

"Ty c'mon man that's not cool. Let's bounce, bro." Rob had a hard time straddling trying to give him commands and pleading with him.

Brent pushed his chair back. "I'm gonna go."

"What?" Nate looked annoyed for the first time since Brent had met him. Nate shook his head. "Naw man, look. Don't go nowhere," he pointed at Brent, and then to Tyler. "And Imma make this real simple for you, Ty," he'd fallen back into his lazily happy half-smile. "You don't fuck off right now and I'll tell all these nice people what you did in Chantal's room after she went to class."

Tyler stopped, looking suddenly a lot paler and a lot more sober. "Buh... bullshit. How... you don't fuckin... you don't know shit."

Nate giggled. "Really wanna make that bet, brah?"

Tyler just stood there for a second before Rob leaned in close. "I'm fuckin outa here. You don't come with me now, good luck gettin your drunk ass home."

True to his word, Rob walked off briskly. Tyler swayed on his feet for a second before he stumbled after him. "Fuckin cocksuckin fags."

"Oh my god," said the girl next to them. "What a fuckin 'tard."

"Right?" Nate grinned at her before turning back to Brent. "Just jealous there's a bigger fish in town."

Brent smiled back feebly as Nate topped up their glasses. Nate pushed Brent's pint toward him. "Y'all right, man?"

"Yeah yeah just..." he glanced around. People had stopped staring but a few eyes glanced at him every now and then. But maybe that was only because he was scoping out the place like a paranoid weirdo.

"What'd he do at Chantal's?" Brent asked.

Nate shook his head coyishly. "He kept up his end of the bargain, man..."

"How do you even know about it?"

"You met Chantal Vandenberg? From Calumet? Just stand in front of her for five minutes." Nate chugged half a pint and smacked his lips. "She set up a... one sec," he belched after a pause, "she put a nanny cam in her room 'n case she gets date-raped."

Brent made a face. "Jesus. That's horrible."

Nate shrugged. "S'not a bad idea. Fuck, man," he shook his head. "Bein' a girl these days? We lucked out, dude. Big time. Fuck, I'd be so fuckin paranoid I wouldn't even go out with guys. Get pepper spray installed in my arms," he pressed his middle fingers into his palm and pointed his wrist at Brent. "Psshhh! Like Spider-Man."

Brent chuckled. "You know they're not like in his arms, right?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "Yeah in this new... whatsisname... Andrew Garfield crap."

"Well yeah," Brent nodded. "Comics too, though." He shrugged. "Andrew Garfield's so hot though, right?"

"Naw man, not my type. I just, mmph," he shook his head, grinning about whatever he was thinking about. "I love big muscles."

Brent grinned shyly.

"Beginning of the season I was so into Ty, man. 'Got no idea. I was like creepin his Facebook and jackin off to his instagram an' all that. Mmph." He polished off his pint and poured himself another. "Then 'turned out he was a douche and it kinda killed it for me."

"Must be nice," Brent sighed. "I fall for douches all the time."

"Naw, not me, man," Nate's smile widened. "I'm like, the best judge of character you'll ever meet. S'like a mutant power."

"Yeah?" Brent raised an eyebrow. "What's your spidey sense tell you about me?"

Nate grinned, licked his teeth, and leaned back, putting his arms out on the back of the booth. "You're a good dude; total sweetheart; bit of a romantic; kinda bashful; WAY hotter than you think you are, an' that you got a big ole cock."

Brent had to stifle a laugh and nearly spit out his beer, blushing furiously.

"See?" Nate pointed at him over his pint glass. "I can fuckin call that shit, man."

Brent wiped beer from his chin, still laughing, and spread his hands confessionally. "What can I say? You can fuckin call em."

They clinked their glasses together and took long drinks through their smiles, watching each other the whole time.

 

***

 

Jamie approached his condo door with his key out but found it already unlocked. He opened it and peered inside.

"D?" he called.

"Jamie?" Drew answered back from the bedroom. He rushed out, still in his suit, and sighed, hugging Jamie and kissing him on the cheek. "You fucking asshole. Where were you? Why didn't you answer my texts?"

"Sorry," Jamie shrugged. "My phone was dead. Too much Hearthstone. Sorry, I figured I'd be back by the time you got home. Aren't you early?"

"Viola gave me a ride," said Drew. He withdrew.

Jamie smirked. "You don't have to worry about me, I'm a big boy."

"Well you usually message me and let me know," said Drew, shrugging out of his suit jacket. "Why didn't you this time?"

Jamie took off his jacket and hung it up by the door, fishing his keys out of his coat pocket. "It was just kinda last minute." He found them and stuffed them into his jeans. "Adam just had to drop by U of T to enrol and asked if I'd grab a coffee with him."

"Oh..." Drew paused halfway through undoing his tie. "What, uhh... he had to come all the way down? They can't do that online?"

Jamie shrugged. "I dunno, we didn't talk about it too much."

"What DID you talk about?" asked Drew, with, Jamie sensed, a note of rising hostility.

"He's thinking about making some changes in his life. Wanted to run it past me." He kicked off his shoes and kissed Drew before walking past him to the fridge. "I was just thinkin salad for dinner. There's all that pasta from last night too. That cool with you?" He grabbed a bottle of beer off the door and went to the drawer for an opener.

"Uhh, sure..." Drew nodded curtly, blinking. "So... what kind of changes are we talking about?"

Jamie opened a corkscrew and popped the cap off his bottle. He tilted his head uncertainly. "Well it's... kinda personal. I don't think he'd want me to tell you." He offered the open bottle to Drew, who shook his head.

"No thanks. Did he say that? That you couldn't tell anyone?"

Jamie didn't like where this was going. He didn't want to lie to Drew and by that point he hadn't. Not really, anyway. Nothing he couldn't spin. But he had a feeling Drew wasn't in a half-answer mood. "Well no..." he admitted after a pause. "But... it's not the kind of thing you want to broadcast."

"And it's 'broadcasting' if you tell me?" Drew's voice was starting to waver a bit, the way it did when he was trying to hold back a simmering rage.

"D are you... like really pissed off about this?" He set his beer on the counter and took a step towards Drew, putting his hands on his hips.

Drew's jaw was trembling. He paused, and looked away, trying to avoid Jamie's gaze. Jamie took his hand from Drew's hip and rubbed his neck. "Hey..."

"I just... what's going on, Jamie?" Drew had raised his voice but was still holding back. "I mean... you gossip about fucking everybody and then whenever Adam comes up it's just... small talk and..." he twisted out of Jamie's arms and walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch. He sighed, put his face in his hands for a minute, then looked up. "You know I don't care if you fuck around. We talked about this."

Jamie shook his head. "Jesus! D, I am not having sex with Adam."

"But if you were I wouldn't give a shit and you know that," Drew countered. "So whatever actually IS going on is somehow worse."

"God, Drew, you seriously have..."

"Just fucking TELL me!" Drew shouted. "It can't be as bad as what I've imagined. It can't be. Is it more than sex? Are you in love with him? Are you going to take off together?"

"D, god dammit. Calm down, you..."

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Jamie stopped in mid-sentence and entirely forgot what he had been trying to say. He just stared at him like he'd just pulled a gun on him.

"I... I've been trying, it just... it's not about you."

"The night after you spent the night at Adam's," Drew reminded him. "I couldn't make you cum and I haven't been able to since."

Jamie just stood there.

"You're telling me that nothing happened up there?"

Jamie sighed, and sat down next to him. He stared at the coffee table for a minute, then sighed again. "All right... look, it's going to sound ridiculous. Ridiculous; it's going to sound fucking impossible. But I need you to believe me, okay? I don't like keeping secrets from you but when you hear this you'll understand why. But I can't hold you to that. I can't make you promise to believe me. But I DO need you to promise not to tell anyone. Like, at all. Even if you don't believe me, if you think I'm a liar or a maniac. Drew. PROMISE me you will NOT tell anyone."

The look Drew gave him was something he had never seen from him before, even when they'd first met. It was a look of suspicious uncertainty and hesitation. Like Drew didn't think he could trust him. Like he didn't know him. It tripped Jamie up in a way he was unused to and he thought that maybe that's what the first crack feels like on what will one day be a broken heart. He wanted to tell Drew he loved him - to remind him - because not long ago he had known it as a fundamental truth of his universe, and now it was something brittle and delicate.

But Drew nodded, and maybe that meant that he wanted to believe the fantastic story Jamie was about to tell. That may have been all Jamie needed.

"Ok. So you remember that e-mail Adam sent me, right?"

 

***

 

Go home, you big sexy Casanova. You have studying to do, you intriguing, beefy lothario. You don't want to fail this class you knee-melting, cock-stiffening adonis.

Brent was conflicted.

Nate was saying all the right things, buttering him up with compliments that hit all the right notes. Tyler and football season were distant memories or entries in someone else's diary. Argumentative Theory? C'mon guys. Couldn't we all just get along?

And he was so cute, too. Normally Brent was more into bigger guys. Men taller than him were hard to come by but got him so hot. Nate was pretty short next to Brent, and he wouldn't stop talking about how big Brent was which only made it more noticeable, but Brent found himself finding him sexier and sexier every time he looked at him. That smirk didn't look like he was trying to pull off a trick, it looked like a puppy delighted to be around him. Nate was just a happy guy.

As Brent followed him back to Winters, Nate talked about growing up in Louisville. Turned out his parents were loaded, and also kind of assholes.

“Nah man, we couldn't call ‘er a ‘nanny,’” he said between laughs, “too middle class. Sofia was an ‘au pair.’”

“Fancy.”

“Yeah… 't just sucked after I graduated they let ‘er go… she went back to Arizona,” he flicked his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk.

“You see her anymore at all?”

Nate shrugged. “Nah… gonna see about going for Christmas this year.”

“You're not gonna spend it with your family?” asked Brent.

Nate shook his head. “She's my mom, s’ far as I'm concerned.”

Nate had a single room on the second floor. They climbed the stairs and Nate showed Brent inside. It was a bit messy but not nothing too bad. There was a Detroit Tigers pennant on the bulletin board and two posters on the wall, a one-sheet of the movie Face/Off and a black and white photo of Arnold Schwarzenegger in a black tank in the jungle holding an M16. Probably from Predator, Brent guessed.

Nate saw Brent looking. “Ever seen Commando?”

“No.”

“Oh man,” Nate laughed, kicking off his shoes as he sat on the bed. “it's so shit. But I love Arnie, man.”

“Yeah he's pretty cool,” Brent agreed. Nate leaned back on his elbows as he watched Brent worry out of his shoes.

“Mmph,” Nate shook his head. “You're so thick, man.” Brent blushed and Nate rubbed the bed next to him. “C’mere.”

“I haven't, like… I'm not super-experienced…” Brent admitted anxiously, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Nate just smiled wider and patted the bed next to him.

Brent shambled over. His hands were sweating and he thought his jaw was shaking, despite it being hot as hell in that room.

Nate adjusted himself as Brent sat down next to him. “You don' gotta be nervous, man…” Nate drawled quietly. “Nothin’s gonna happen ‘nless you want it to, man.”

Brent nodded, smiling politely. The signals were coming in loud and clear but he didn't trust his receivers, and some ratlike little thought at the back corner of his brain kept scratching at the baseboard squeaking “It's a trick! It's a trick!”

Nate leaned over the low headboard and reached into a minifridge Brent hadn't realized was there. “‘Nother beer, man?”

“Huh? Oh, no…” Brent answered, his mind still racing. Still doubting his instincts, still suspicious of Nate in spite of everything, and he felt like an asshole for that lingering distrust even after Nate had stood up for him. Brent felt a warm hand gripping his shoulder.

“Hey man…” said Nate. “I know it's been a weird time for you, dude. Know the team hasn’ made it any easier. But… I do like you, man. ‘M on your side.”

Brent sighed, nodding. “I know, I… thanks for dealing with Tyler.”

Nate smirked. “Forget Tyler, man.” Nate slid his hand down Brent's arm, rubbing his thick bicep. “I’ll help.”

And then they were kissing. Nate groped his pec and pushed him back, giving himself enough room to kneel in Brent's  lap, straddling his thigh. He leaned down and they kissed again. Nate’s hands were all over his chest, his arms, his shoulders, squeezing every muscle and moaning as his tongue roved around Brent's mouth as if taking detailed notes.

“Fuck, man,” he breathed as their mouths parted, a sliver of drool trailing between them for a second before it slopped across Nate’s chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “You're so hot, dude. Got no idea.”

Brent smiled, and went in for another kiss but found Nate's fingers under his shirt and yanking it up. He raised his arms to give him a hand. Nate giggled. “Might be time to upsize, man.”

They tumbled around undressing each other, Nate fondling Brent as they went, until finally they were down to their jockey shorts, each full of bulging erections.

“Shit, dude,” Nate laughed, “you're fuckin’ packin.” He pulled off his briefs and the elastic snapped as Brent's hard cock bobbed out in front of him, over eight thick inches long. Brent smiled, and bid a silent thank you to the mystery bear.

Nate gave his own dick a squeeze as he slid off the bed onto his knees. He took a gob of sweat from his mouth to lube up his palm and started stroking Brent's cock. Brent leaned back and moaned. Nate giggled and kissed Brent’s knee. He stroked faster and faster as he started kissing up Brent's thigh until Nate's face was pressed up against his junk. Nate moved his hand to Brent's balls and took his cock in his mouth.

Brent grunted and sat up, putting his hand on Nate's head, rubbing his buzzcut as it bobbed up and down on his lap. Nate's hand slid off his balls, wriggled under Brent until he had two fingers up his ass.

Brent took Nate's other hand from off his thigh, guiding it up to his chest. Nate moaned as he groped his pec, then rubbed down Brent's side, his thumb tracing veins and lines in every muscle group.

Brent felt so big. He hadn't been with anyone since he'd been beefed up and he couldn't get over it. His dick was so thick and hard and throbbing in Nate's wet, hot mouth, and he could tell Nate was getting off on it, too. His moans were getting louder and louder and his fingers pushed deeper up Brent's ass. Brent felt his cock aching in anticipation of release.

Brent came and Nate coughed. Nate lifted off him, cum drooling out of his grin, as he stroked out the remainder of Brent's copious load onto his chest. Brent gasped as currents of pleasure shocked through his system, his body shuddering with each volley.

“Oh… fuuuuuuck,” he groaned with a long exhale, and leaned back, endorphins dripping down his spine and dousing him with bliss. Nate pulled a dirty towel out from under his bed and wiped the blanket of cum off his chest with a giggle. The outline of his cock was clearer in his jockeys, having jizzed himself.

Nate's spritely laughter was contagious, and soon Brent felt his chest shaking with every giggle.

They fumbled around each other as they got back into their clothes, stinking of sex and sticky with semen, saying little and kissing occasionally. Eventually dressed but disheveled, Brent shuffled slowly to the door, struggling to phrase an apology for not staying longer, drunken anxiety creeping back into his mind. Nate watched him a moment before closing the gap and kissing him - a wet, inelegant kiss that gave Brent a taste of his own spunk.

“Glad you came out, man,” he mumbled.

Brent nodded. “Me too. Thanks.”

Brent strode out into the hall, warily glancing both ways for onlookers. Nate leaned lazily on the doorframe, his arm dangling off him. “Text me when you ace that modes exam, dude. Hafta celebrate.”

Brent grinned. “I will. Thanks, man. Later.”

He turned and walked briskly for the stairwell before they got stuck in a farewell loop. Nate waved at him. “Later.”

Nate stood against the doorway, staring at the empty hallway even after Brent had turned a corner. A smile still on his face, he slid back into his room and closed the door.

It was true! He could almost guarantee it. That had been the first step, and getting a lead had been the second. Both had been important and very difficult, but Brent had facilitated both.

Nate opened his window and lit up a cigarette. He felt kind of bad. Was he using Brent? Yeah, a bit. But he did like him, he was glad they'd hooked up, he looked forward to seeing him again and the thought of fucking him almost made Nate cum in his pants again. Besides all that, he knew that this was something that Brent wanted.

“Fuck, dude,” he muttered to himself as he blew a plume of smoke out the window. “Brent, man? We're gonna be fuckin HUGE.”

 

***

 

“...and by the time I woke up everything… like, Adam too, were both back to regular size and… well, I had breakfast with them and came home.” Jamie finished with a shrug and a sigh.

Drew hadn't said much through the whole thing. He'd asked a few clarifying questions along the way, but by the time Jamie got into the real meat of his explanation, Drew had just shut up and let him talk. But his jaw was clenched and his eyes were bloodshot and he kept sniffing back tears but a couple had slipped out. Jamie didn't really know how to read him, which he him, which he found unusual and uncomfortable. Gauging people's reactions had kind of been Jamie's job and he had been good at it. But beyond “upset” Drew wasn't sending him any clear signals. Jamie wasn't sure that had ever happened before. He felt that prompting Drew was probably a bad call but the silence between them in that moment was torture.

“So…..” Jamie began tentatively, “do….”

“You're a fucking liar and an asshole and… and you're totally full of shit you fucking….” Drew sniffed and wiped tears out of one eye. “Did you… it's not even that you looked at my computer and…”

Jamie's brow furrowed. “Whoa, wait, what?”

“...and fucking… I don't even know how. No. Fuck you. I don't care.” Drew pushed himself off the couch and stood. “You think I'm this fucking stupid? You think you can fucking… distract me with….” he stopped, his mouth hanging open with incredulity. He stared at Jamie for a moment before darting away. Oprah hissed and scrambled under the couch. Jamie turned in his seat. “D? What are you doing?”

Drew had disappeared to the bedroom, and came back with his jacket. He grabbed his wallet off the table.

“Drew!” Jamie shot to his feet. “Jesus christ stop for a second!”

Drew shoved his keys in his pocket. “Y'know you think you're so much better than all those sleazy ad execs but you're just as fucking manipulative and conniving and you'll say any fucking thing to get what you want. Y'know what? You're worse cuz you just slather everything in sarcasm and some… philosophical circle-jerking and....” he shook his head, sniffed, and composed himself. He cleared his throat. “I can't stay here tonight, I have to… I'll text you.”

Jamie moved to intercept but Drew had already opened the door and was halfway out. “Drew fucking christ! You can't just…”

“I'll text you,” Drew said again, and slammed the door behind him.

Their home was suddenly cold and silent. Jamie almost chased him down the hall; had his hand on the knob, but he let it slip off.

Jamie pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it back on. Battery Critically Low: Connect your charger, it reported.

He drew up a text message as quickly as he could.

Please come home

Send.

I love you

Send.

So fucking m

Shutting down.

The app closed and the screen went black. Jamie let it slip out of his fingers and it clattered on the floor.

[spacevlad]

Incredibly hot sex scene with Brent, I've had hookups like that and they're always great. But what's Nate got up his sleeve about the two of them getting huge?? Hmm!

[Maximilian]

Part 8: Josh

 

A shrill ringing woke Josh up but he still couldn't raise his head. It took a lot of effort to open his eyes a little bit at a time, and more of an effort to compel them to focus. His suspicions of those two black blurs on a blurry grey field were eventually confirmed. He was looking at his sneakers on the pavement.

“Hey. Hey big guy!” A second staccato bell ring managed to prompt his head upright, and he found himself looking at a skinny black kid on a bike a few feet away from him on the sidewalk. Josh appeared to be waiting at a bus stop at an intersection he didn't recognize. It was late night and kind of cold.

The kid nodded in Josh’s direction. “You all right, man?”

“Abizwaash,” Josh replied. He coughed, spat, and pulled himself upright. “Yeah… I'm good.”

“You, uhh… there's like blood all down your face man.”

Josh put his hand to his face and felt what was probably a pasty, almost dry line of blood. He followed it up his cheek and into his long hair, where he found fresher blood and winced as he touched the edge of a wound.

“Shit,” said Josh.

“Yeah,” the kid replied. “You, uhh....?”

“All good. Gonna call an Uber.”

“Uhh…. You got any idea where you are, man?”

Josh found the street signs but it took almost twenty seconds of staring at them before he could read them. Wyoming and Orangelawn.

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. Might wanna hop over to campus or somethin, man.”

“Thanks dude, I'll figure it out.” he searched through his pockets, relieved to find his phone and his Mastercard.

“Hey,” the kid nodded again as if he was restarting their encounter. “Got a smoke, man?”

Josh searched through his pockets, but paused. “How old are you?”

The kid made a face at him. “C'mon man you tryin to parent my ass n’ shit? Sleepin at a bus stop at four A M with blood all up yo’ face?”

Josh sighed, found his pack and took it out, found two cigarettes left, took them both out and held one forward. The kid waddled closer on his bike and took it. Josh started looking for his lighter but the kid whipped out a worn out Zippo, opened and lit it in one elegant gesture. He held it forward for Josh then lit his own before snapping the lighter shut. He nodded at Josh. “Thanks,” he said out the side of his mouth, then hopped on the bike properly and rode off down the sidewalk.

Halfway through the first drag Josh got so lightheaded h thought he was going to puke. He threw the nearly complete cigarette to the ground and leaned forward, ready to hurl. “Oh fuck,” he groaned to the empty street.

But Josh didn't throw up. He sat there for a while waiting to, settled for spitting a few times, stood up on wobbly legs, and staggered off, his head swimming with visions of of a neighbourhood swarming with ubers.

 

***

 

Liam blinked. “So…what did you do?”

Cassidy set down his tea on its saucer. “Oh my god are you kidding? I grabbed my stuff and fuckin booked it.”

“Leaving this guy… how big?”

“Oh, like at least fifteen feet tall, probably closer to twenty,” Cassidy grinned. “It was something else.”

Liam looked away and massaged his brow. “Jesus christ, Cass.”

“Look,” Cassidy held up his hands defensively. “I totally know, okay? It was a bad idea. I let things get totally out of hand.”

“Totally out of hand?” Liam asked him incredulously. “What if he had hurt you… what if he'd KILLED you?”

“Oh he's all talk,” Cassidy shrugged it off. “Tahar’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“At that size you don't have to mean to, Cassidy. God…” Liam paused to have some more tea. “Cass you have got to rein this shit in, man.”

“That's totally what I mean!” Cassidy nodded. He waved his band like he was wiping clean a dirty window. “Butch is like, so retired. I'm going to be way more careful. Not get into situations like that again.”

“Y'know it doesn't actually sound like you have any intention of stopping.”

Cassidy just smiled.

“You tell Adam about any of this?”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “We've got a don't ask don't tell arrangement.”

“You're talking about extra-marital sex here, though. Right?” Liam smirked.

Cassidy sighed impatiently. “Oh my god. He'd just be worried.”

“He should be. I fucking am.”

“Oh don't be such a diva,” Cassidy sucked his teeth.

Liam poured himself another cup of gyokuro from the teapot. “I still can't believe, you've got all this amazing power at your fingertips and you just use it like a sex toy?”

“What, you want to follow Adrian’s suggestion and throw magic into a warzone?” asked Cassidy.

Liam set the pot back down. “It's easy to make fun of when it's not your family dying over there. Bring the craft to Syria and the war would be over in a month. Guaranteed.”

Cassidy laughed cynically. “Oh my god! You're joking, right? You think one lightning bolt will make these people just roll over? You think all the rebel factions will just settle down and get along?”

“It's better than nothing, Cass.”

“Really? Is it?” Cassidy sighed. “You start weaponizing magic you'll just start an arms race that will get SO MANY people killed.”

“You think that won't happen if we'd ‘gone public?’” asked Liam, raising his fingers for air quotes.

Cassidy frowned peevishly. “Once again: that is not what I said.”

“Oh please.”

“ALL I SAID was it was a discussion we should start having,” Cassidy poked the air with his finger to accentuate every word. “Oh my god, I'm not retarded. If I had flat out made a proposal they'd have, like, lit me on fire or something. Can they turn people into frogs yet?”

Liam shrugged, blowing on his tea. “Don't think so.”

“Oh thank god,” Cassidy put his hand to his chest.

Liam took a sip and set down his teacup. “You should really meet with Harry,” he said. “Talk things out. Everyone misses you. Adam too.”

“Yeah well like ‘not welcome here anymore’ doesn't leave much room for interpretation.” Cassidy shook his head. “I'd love to come back but they'll have to come to me.”

Liam sighed dejectedly and took another swig. “So… what's it like being Butch? Like, how's it feel?”

Cassidy grinned. “Amazing… like, I'm not really into guys like that but having all that weight, being so strong....it's so hot. And man, like guys just hang off him.”

“Well yeah at the Black fucking Eagle,” Liam chuckled.

“Oh my god, don't be such a bitch,” Cassidy slapped his knee. “Besides, he's popular up and down the village. Twinks, jocks, gym rats…”

Liam counted off on his fingers. “Gay stereotype four; gay stereotype five....”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Cassidy giggled, punching Liam’s shoulder. “You fucking asked.” He grinned. “You wanna find out for yourself?”

“Nope! No no no no no no. No.” Liam held up his finger for the last one. Then he relaxed and sat back. “Gotta get back to the girlfriend. Maybe some other time.”

Cassidy nodded. Liam was kind of tall and a bit chunky, but he had a great smile and Cassidy had had fantasies about him in the past, though he was tragically straight. The thought of turning him into a big burly bear was tantalizing, but he knew it would be pushing his luck.

Cassidy sighed, picking up the teapot and shaking it, the last few sips splashing around with the rattling diffuser. “Should I make another pot, or…”

“Nah I should probably head home soon,” Liam stretched. “Any more tea and I'll have to pee in a Wendy's cup.”

The door opened in the foyer and Adam came in, leaning on the wall as he took off his shoes. Cassidy got up to greet him. “Hey Cass. Oh! Hey, Liam. Long time no see.” Cassidy and Adam kissed each other's cheeks.

“Hey Adam, how's it going?” asked Liam, standing.

Adam shrugged and shook his hand as he walked past. “Can't complain. What smells so good?”

“I made us grilled cheese,” said Cassidy.

Adam unzipped his hoodie and made his way to the kitchen. “Sweet. How's things with you, Liam?”

“Good, man, good,” Liam replied, meandering to the kitchen. “Erin and I got engaged.”

“Oh yeah I saw that on Facebook,” Adam nodded as he unwrapped some cheddar. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“How's the crew? Everything, uhh…?” Adam trailed off and didn't finish his sentence.

“Still going good, yeah. I mean not as good as when you were helping out but we're still making progress.” Liam wavered his hand in the air. “Bit of a lull at the moment but it'll pick up again once Roddy gets back from Mexico.”

“If you ever wanted me to take a look at anything,” said Adam, “I'm here for ya.”

“Yeah…” Liam leaned against the doorway, “probably not gonna go over well with the higher ups.”

Adam shrugged, cutting slices off the cheese brick. “You stayin for dinner?”

“Nah I was just about to head out,” said Liam, standing upright.

“Oh cool,” Adam set down the knife to give Liam a handshake. “Come around more often, man.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Cassidy paused cleaning the teapot to show Liam out. Adam's sandwich was nearly done by the time he came back to the kitchen.

“We still on for tonight?” asked Adam.

Cassidy slid onto a barstool across the counter from him. “As far as I know, yeah. I've been trying to Skype him all day but he hasn't responded.”

Adam turned off the stovetop. “Want to get started without him?”

Cassidy shrugged. “We’ll see I guess. Uhh, like How'd it go with Jamie?”

Adam paused, slid the grilled cheese onto a plate and sighed. “I don't know, he.... well he's not really feeling it.”

“I told you he wouldn't,” Cassidy reminded him.

“Yeah well I didn't really expect him too either but I needed to try,” said Adam, a little annoyed.

“You don't need his approval, Adam.”

“I know I don't need his approval,” Adam groaned, “but he was my best friend for a long time and I WANT his approval.” he sighed, walking over to the counter and holding the sandwich out in front of Cassidy. He leaned forward and took a bite.

“Fuck,” he swore with his mouth full. “Hot.”

Adam took a bite for himself. “Oh it's fine. Calm down.”

 

***

 

Josh had convinced a cab to take him and slept most of the ride home, then collapsed on the futon and slept through the morning fully clothed. By the time he woke up it was almost three and his head was pounding. There was blood all over the afghan and dried in crusty chunks through his hair. His mouth was dry and he drank three glasses in a row, which helped some. He took a shower, ate the rest of the chicken curry he'd had left in the fridge, drank a bunch more water, and watched an episode of Survivorman.

Josh was mostly cured of his acute hangover but was still exhausted and when he saw the e-mail reminding him he had a show scheduled in an hour he groaned aloud. He squeezed a limesworth of lime juice into a glass of water and chugged it while he checked his e-mail on his phone.

sundancekids85. That sounded familiar. Oh right, it was that cute married couple he’d met on the old Evolution forum and then again on the Muscle Growth Forum after the old one shut down. Hmm… Their roleplays were always pretty hot, fairly straightforward, and generally wrapped up in good time. Plus, usually by the end of his shows with them, they were already going at it, and more than once Josh had just stuck around and watched them fuck. And he hadn’t seen them in nearly a year, if he remembered correctly…No, there was just no way. He was too exhausted. It would be a shitty show and he was doing them a favour backing out.

Josh poured himself another glass of water and went to his room to sit down at his computer, still not sure whether or not this would be a good idea. Tired as he was, he was still horny. He squeezed his junk through his jeans while his Digital Storm booted up. No, fuck it. He’d just rub one out before bed and that would be that. Still, sundancekids85 were a nice couple and repeat customers, so he didn’t want to alienate them and leave them hanging. He double-clicked the Skype icon and saw sundancekids85 with an optimistic green icon nested in their avatar and a notice that they’d left ten messages. He sent them a video call.

The smaller one with glasses - Cass? - popped up on the screen. He smiled and waved happily, and said something before Josh realized he hadn’t turned on his speakers.

“Sorry man, what was that?”

“I said I wasn’t sure we were gonna see you tonight,” said Cass.

“Well, yeah,” Josh nodded nervously. “Hate to do this, man, but I’m gonna have to cancel on tonight?”

Cass frowned and groaned theatrically. “Awwwww really?”

“Yeah man. I’m sorry I just had a really rough night and I’m just totally exhausted,” Josh shook his head. “I know it’s a dick move, but it’ll probably be better for all of us.”

“Uhh... “ Cass glanced away for a second. It looked like he was looking at something behind his monitor. “Like, are you sure I can’t convince you?”

“Sorry man,” Josh shook his head. “I’ll send you my next video for free, okay?”

“No no no, wait, umm....” Cass paused. “I think you might want to stick it out, tonight.”

Cass was being a little more presumptuous than usual and Josh was beginning to regret the face-to-face call. This was kind of annoying. Josh played it off with a chuckle. “Heh, I definitely want to, buddy, but the flesh is weak. Need sleep.”

“Okay, just, umm… one sec.” Cass adjusted himself on his chair, sitting up straight. “I was gonna do something a little bit different, tonight? Like, just give me five minutes, okay? And if you’re, like, still not feeling it or whatever we’ll just forget about it and I won’t, like, say anything.”

“C’mon man…” Josh groaned.

“Five minutes. Josh, seriously, I swear to god, you will NOT regret it,” said Cass, hints of a smirk on his face.

Josh checked his clock. He sighed. “Okay, five minutes.”

Cass clapped his hands and giggled. “Oh my god! Okay. Okay great. Okay look, umm… get your dick out.”

Josh sighed, but undid his jeans and reached into his briefs. “No big guy tonight?”

“Hm? Oh, Adam? Yeah he’s, umm…” Cass hummed for a second, “he’s just taking care of something, it’ll just be me.”

That was too bad, Josh had always thought Adam was the hotter one. He pulled his cock out over the top of his waistband, wagging it at the camera. “Hi!” he said in a cutesy high-pitched voice. His hardon generally peaked at five inches, and he started palming the head to get it there sooner.

Cass laughed. “Okay, you know how we R P all kinds of stuff about, like, you getting big and huge and, like…”

“Like all our chats, sure,” Josh nodded.

“Right,” Cass nodded. “So like, if you could just… if you had, like, the actual chance to be a bigger guy, like, would you take it?”

This seemed like a weird track to take but whatever, Josh was game. He moaned, starting to rub his cock. “Mmm… you know it, man. In a heartbeat.”

Cass, however, didn’t seem satisfied. “Okay but like seriously, would you be into it? Would you want to be, like, way bigger in real life?”

Josh shrugged peevishly. “Well I mean I guess.” He checked the clock. It hadn’t even been thirty seconds yet. He sighed.

“Okay,” Cass nodded slowly. He was really getting into the role this time. It was a bit weird. “Okay. So like, I can make that happen.”

Finally, here we go. Josh smiled. “Ooooh yeah, bring it on.”

“Like, I know you don’t actually believe me?” said Cass, “so I’m gonna start just with your cock so you can see what I’m talking about.”

Josh felt a strange twist in his stomach, that seemed to bounce up his spine and disintegrate. He checked the clock again. Four minutes left. So far none of this was anything out of the ordinary. Josh stroked his cock. “Yeah, start with this big thick cock and go from there.”

Josh’s cock suddenly stretched in his hand. He felt it get thicker and heavier, gaining three inches in as many seconds. He stopped stroking, gaping down at his cock in disbelief. It was still getting hard, and it was bigger than he’d ever seen it.

“Whu… how is… no way.”

“Josh this is permanent, okay?” said Cass. “Like, I can't reverse this? I mean I figured pumping your cock up some was pretty safe but like, I can give you all that stuff we R P about.”

Josh shook his head, fist still clenched over his shaft. “This is fucking nuts.”

“So… do you want me to?” asked Cass. “I mean this was why I asked for the show but if you want to like take a few days to think about it, like, I'm cool with that. And like keep the money, obviously.”

Josh didn't say anything. He shook his head again.

“I'm not gonna get, like huge into details but the short version is, umm,” Cass pursed his lips, “this is magic,” he explained academically, “and I guarantee you there is no danger at all.”

Josh was still mesmerized by the cock in his unmoving hand.

“Josh?” Cass prodded. “Josh oh my god, will you please say something?”

Josh slowly moved his hand up his shaft, feeling it's new girth. He gasped when he reached the head.

Cass grinned. “Well… do you like it?”

Josh managed a quick nod, realized he was holding his breath. “Bigger,” he heard himself say.

Cass giggled, and Josh drew a sharp breath as his dick grew another two inches in his hand, with thickness to match. He stroked it more liberally, down then back up, now at full mast. It had to be ten inches long, at least. He glanced at the clock on his desktop. His cock had doubled in size in under five minutes.

“What d’ya say, Josh?” Cass raised an eyebrow. “Wanna be bigger all over?”

Did he? What would people say? What would he tell Shane? Or his parents? What would he do when people gawked at him on the street? What would he do the next time he walked into Hayloft and watched everyone's jaw drop? What would he say when they begged to be taken? When they pleaded for the chance to worship him? When they touched his thick, huge body and gasped at how hard and ripped he'd become.

“Yeah,” he said it before he knew what he was saying. “Do it.”

Cass smirked. “You wanna be a freak, huh?” Josh could already feel something begin to churn around inside him; a pressure building up and impossible to contain. It got worse and worse, tightening up his insides, twisting through his whole body until he felt like he was going to split apart.

When his pecs suddenly heaved out from his chest and stretched the fabric of his shirt across them it felt like they had been finally unbound after years of being tied down. His arms felt like tightly wound coils suddenly released and allowed to resume their proper shape. It felt like that, but the sound of ripping cotton reminded him that he was getting bigger, reaching sizes he'd never even bothered to hope to achieve.

His socks began to rip, and he glanced down at his feet, probably size sixteens at that point, splitting his socks open as they grew before his eyes. His jeans began to tear along the seam, and he felt his ass plump up on the seat.

“Fuck…” Josh breathed. “More.”

The webcam was on a pretty narrow zoom and only showed his face but it was clear that Cass was jacking off. He paused to wipe sweat off his brow. “Well duh.”

Josh felt the backrest of his chair sliding down his widening back, his feet sliding across the floor as his legs seemed to stretch longer and fill in any gaps with hard, tight muscle. He was taller. Taller and taller and taller. He'd always fantasized but never even in his wildest dreams would he have ever expected any of this.

“Oooooh,” Josh moaned, “pecs. Get this shirt off me.”

He'd barely finished saying it than his pecs inflated with size and muscle and his shirt ripped open down the back. His arms and shoulders were hit with another growth spurt and took care of the sleeves. The feeling of his growing body shredding that shirt drove him nuts. He could feel it losing the battle with his bulk, becoming thinner as it stretched. Every tear was a triumph. He leaned back and….

And the chair buckled a second before giving out underneath him. Josh fell backward with a crash, kicking his desk and knocking over the webcam.

“Oh my god, Josh!” he heard Cass. “Josh?”

Scrambling to his feet tore the pants to shreds. His briefs clung stretched tight just under his ass but kicking the chair aside snapped them in half.

“Josh? Are you okay?”

Josh reached down, righted the webcam, and smiled at how far he had to bend to do it. He stood up, dressed in nothing but the tatters of his shirt, its once-wide V-neck now tight around his traps.

Cass put a hand over his grin. “Holy shit…” he whispered.

Josh looked at his reflection nested in the corner of Cass’ window. He was easily seven feet tall. Probably closer to seven-foot-five. He looked himself over, from his size twenty-two feet to his thick bodybuilder physique. He had the same proportions as all the idols he masturbated to nearly every night - Callum Von Moger; Craig Golias; Jay Cutler. He'd give any of them a run for their money, and was willing to bet none of them had a thick, foot-long cock (though he constantly imagined they all did). He was enormous; the biggest guy he'd ever seen. But the desire had gotten inside him. He felt it swirl around in his stomach, boil up his throat and blurt out of his mouth.

“More…”

Cass laughed as a drop of sweat trailed down his face from his hair. “Oh my god, get a grip Josh! You get any bigger and you won’t be able to leave your house. This isn’t like, going away.”

“C’mon man,” Josh huffed. “Just some more in the arms…”

“Maybe next time,” Cass smirked. “Is your Paypal down or something? Cuz like, I’m pretty sure I paid for a show.”

Josh furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Well like, why don’t you take that big shiny dick out for a spin, hm?” Cass tilted his head, “See how it handles? What the like… brake… pressure is like? Honestly I don’t know like anything about cars.”

Josh put a hand around his dick, slowly bringing it up to the head then back down. God it felt so thick and hot. “Vroom vroom,” he moaned. Cass giggled. Josh let his hand stroke back and forth on his shaft while his other hands roamed along his body, exploring and discovering every new feature. These are my abs…. Oh fuck this it my ass… this is my thigh; GOD these are my fuckin balls. Sweet jesus these are my pecs, and my lats. This is my body. This is all mine.

It couldn't be real. It was a dream. Or he had died when he hit his head last night and apparently been a really good guy his whole life because if this was Heaven (or Hell, for that matter) then he would've fallen down the stairs, or whatever the hell happened, long long ago.

It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real but it fucking WAS. It felt more real than anything he'd felt before. There was so much more of him now, and it was all ablaze with the electric, kinetic bliss cascading out from his huge, sweating cock, its shaft sticky with pre, its head throbbing with every beat of his heart beneath his big beefy chest.

Cass was leaning back in his chair, moaning and groaning, wiping sweat out of his face and biting his fingers with the one hand that wasn't hidden off camera furiously jacking himself off.

Oh god, thought. “Oh GOD!” he shouted, and he came with an exploding firecracker of how sweaty spunk then in graceful white ribbons that arced across his room. The first slashed across his monitor, the second knocked an empty can of ginger ale off his desk, and the third slopped across his webcam, veiling his display in a wet gaussian blur. Josh staggered backward, his knees buckling under his heavy torso, and collapsed sitting onto his bed. The metal struts gave out on that side and slammed onto the floor. He sat there, his chest heaving, waiting to wake up from whatever amazing drug trip he assumed he was on. But he didn't wake up. No, he kept on sitting there, feeling beads of sweat chart slow descents down the mountain of his body. Brief pause in the clavicle, line drive down the deep valley of his pecs, hanging for a moment off the shelf they had become, dripping onto one abdominal, then slinking down to another, then another and another, finally weaving a path to his external obliques to be lost in his pubic hair.

If this wasn't real it was better than real.

Cass sat up, in an apparent daze. “Wow. That was something else. I'm sending you like, a little something to cover all the clothes we destroyed, but I guess like your whole wardrobe is probably trash by now so it's a bit of a gyp or whatever. Sorry I shouldn't say that. I hear it's like, offensive to gypsies or… Egyptians or something.”

Josh leaned back, feeling his newly developed muscles shifting with every movement. His phone vibrated and he picked it up off his pillow, marvelling  at how much smaller it looked in his hand. It took some delicate maneuvering with his bigger fingers. As he was fumbling around his apps, opening nearly all of them except the one he wanted, Cass was making his farewell.

“Well I'll see you, Josh. Enjoy! And clean off your webcam!” He laughed, the sound ending abruptly as he signed off.

Finally Josh managed to open his e-mail and saw that there had been an additional deposit to his Paypal. Josh grinned. Stand up guy, that Cass.

He tossed his phone on a piece of his torn pants and moaned contentedly, leaning back further and letting his wide back sink heavily into his bed. He drew up his arm and flexed it. Fuck, that was a huge bicep. He brought it down and flexed again, letting it rub against his bulging pecs. He felt his flaccid cock twitching itself back to life. Josh smiled as he cupped his big balls in his hand. He had to clean all his cum up anyway, he figured he might as well get the most out of it.

 

***

 

Cassidy toweled semen off his desk and looked across the room. He wasn't sure what had finally pushed him over, watching Josh hulk out of his clothes, or seeing Adam huddled against the far wall, fifteen feet tall, swollen with gigantic brawn, and a five foot cock that probably weighed more than Cassidy. Adam had stroked it to completion with both hands while he watched the show on a second monitor. He picked up a beach towel and wiped up the copious amounts of cum from his chest and abs and in puddles on the floor.

“You okay?” he asked Cassidy. “You look exhausted.”

Cassidy shook his head. “A bit. I'll be fine.” He smiled weakly. “Oh my god did you see his face?”

The phone on the nightstand buzzed as it vibrated. At first he couldn't tell which one it was since they were right next to each other, but the blinking light gave away that it was Adam's . He took it in his hand and used the stylus from his DS to check his messages. Adam's expression darkened.

Cassidy noticed as he pulled on his briefs. “Adam? What's wrong?”

Adam looked up. “It's Jamie. He says he needs your help…”

[spacevlad]

Another amazing chapter. Cass pushing Josh bigger and bigger, and how much Josh wanted more and more, was so very hot. Can't wait for more.