muscle-growth Public Relations

[Maximilian]

Part 9: Russell

 

Russell didn't like the way the secretary kept glancing over at him. He knew they would look out of place but had at least gone to the effort of wearing a suit jacket and cufflinks. Apparently that didn't make up for the corn rolls. Mahtab looked uncomfortable too, tapping her fingernails in staccato rhythm on the dossier in her lap. She would halt whenever she caught herself doing it, but her mind would drift and she'd fall back into it.

A light blinked on the secretary's phone and he lifted the receiver, listened for a moment, and set it down. He nodded at Russell and Mahtab. “He'll see you now.”

Mahtab smiled politely and nodded, standing up and adjusting her suit jacket. Russell had to admit she cleaned up nice. The suit made her look like an Indian Jackie Brown.

Harry's office was pretty awesome. Lots of neutral tones with deep red accents, a well-stocked minibar, a bookcase full of autobiographies with a turntable on top. Very nice. The walls were mostly decorated with pictures of Harry arm in arm with various old white men. The only one Russell recognized was Joe Clark.

Harry was sitting on the other side of a glass desk sparsely accented with a white flat-screen with matching wireless keyboard, an abstract ebony sculpture, and a golden pen. Behind Harry was a wall to wall window and the city sprawled out beyond.

Harry was unsurprisingly frowning as Russell and Mahtab wordlessly sat down on the other side of the desk. “I believe we had discussed this,” he reminded them chidingly. “You're lucky I didn't call security.”

“I know, Harry, and I'm sorry,” said Mahtab, “but this is a bit of a sensitive matter. We couldn't risk anyone else finding out about it.”

“All right, well, let's try and keep this short, shall we?” Harry looked annoyed and impatient.

Russell and Mahtab exchanged glances. No turning back now. Russell leaned forward. “We've been losing people, Harry. The coven’s had members going missing for months.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Who? What are you talking about.”

Russell took out his phone and reviewed his notes. “No one's heard from Robyn since before Christmas. Sara since February. Dave, Mohan, and Hong have all disappeared, and now Rodrigo…”

“All right let's not sensationalize,” Harry interjected, holding up his hands. “Sara was talking about moving to Montreal and Hong might have gone to follow her. Dave was never really reliable to begin with. I don't know about Mohan but he never seemed that invested in the craft. And Roddy went to stay with family in Mexico. You knew that.”

Mahtab cleared her throat. “Roddy and I had a few projects on the go and he had planned to check in with me. When he didn't I managed to get in touch with his cousin who said he never arrived. I'm still looking into it but it looks like he never got on the plane.”

Harry paused, then sighed. “Robyn was approached by the Circle. She probably decided to switch teams.”

“If she did, she didn't go to the Circle,” Russell shook his head. “I've had their phones monitored and no one's heard from her on their end either. On top of that, they've had a few people go missing too.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his expression darkening. “You're sure this is reliable?”

“Cops put out a missing person for Oded Hume two weeks ago,” Russell explained. “If they're on to me and trying to string me along I don't see what the endgame could be.”

Harry leaned back in his chair. “You're sensationalizing,” he insisted again.

“It may be a coincidence,” Mahtab acknowledged, “but I feel at this point it's too great a risk to just ignore. If we're under attack…”

Harry scoffed. “Really, Mahtab…”

“IF we are being attacked,” Mahtab steamrolled his interruption, “we need to prepare some response.”

“Even if something has happened,” Harry conceded tersely, “it could have been an accident. It could be anything.”

Mahtab nodded. “All the more reason to get to the bottom of this.”

“Harry we've looked into this,” Russell assured him. “I'll give you Dave and Mohan, I wasn't able to confirm them yet, but the rest - that's five people, counting Oded - have disappeared without a trace.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Without a trace?” he chuckled.

Russell nodded mirthlessly. “Without a trace. Clothes still in their drawers; passports at home; cell phones, sometimes… Hong even had a load in the wash. Nasty as shit by the time I got to it.”

Harry was frowning again. “You think they’re dead?”

“Well, I don’t honestly know,” Russell shook his head. “But I’m not holding out much hope.”

Harry leaned forward. “So what are you proposing?”

“More thorough investigation, for starters,” said Mahtab quickly. “Get everyone we know we can trust, any contacts we can exploit, and look into every detail we can find out about the last time these people were seen. We can begin by going through the coven and making sure everyone else is accounted for.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” Harry asked.

“Adrian's been handling the surveillance spellcraft, and...” Russel glanced at Mahtab, “he said Liam suspects something's up. He knows they're missing Oded. Not sure how much he's put together.”

Harry nodded. “Are we considering reaching out to the Circle?”

Russell pursed his lips. “Not at this point. Let’s see what we can find on our own and then we can figure out how to approach them. Even if they’re not responsible we shouldn’t let them know we’re shorthanded.”

“But you don’t think they’re responsible?” Harry asked. They both shook their heads, and Harry grumbled. “Then who? Is there a new group that slipped into the city without us knowing it?”

Russell turned to Mahtab, who hesitated for a moment, but carried on. “I… have a bit of a theory in that regard.”

Harry shrugged. “All right.”

Mahtab sighed. “When Cassidy Hamilton proposed a public revelation of our work the reaction from the coven was a mostly hostile one.”

Harry leaned back and fixed Mahtab with a deadpan glare. “We've been over this ad nauseum.”

“Let me finish,” Mahtab snapped. “I believe Cassidy may be on track to actually go through with this. Going public.”

Russell quickly held up his hand. “Just to be clear: I am not on board with this theory.”

Harry looked back and forth at both of them while Mahtab shot Russell a sour look. “What makes you think that? Have you kept in touch with Cassidy?”

Mahtab shook her head. “No. And this isn't based on much, I'll grant you that, but…” she shifted in her seat. “Okay look: Cassidy first started that conversation because Adam wanted to be… enhanced on a full time basis.”

“Yes but ‘enhancing' as you put it was the only thing Cassidy was any good at,” Harry reminded her. “What does that have to do with making people disappear.”

“Well,” Russell added reluctantly, “our own progress took a big hit when Adam stopped coming around. Access to Adam could make all the difference. In theory.”

“Here's all I'm saying,” Mahtab interjected. “If Cassidy were going to go public, there are those in the coven who would take action to stop him. Do either of you disagree?”

Russell frowned, glancing glumly at Harry, though neither said anything.

Mahtab continued. “If Cassidy perceives us as a threat he may be taking preemptive measures to protect himself.”

Harry drummed his fingers on his desktop, examining Mahtab judiciously. “I'm surprised this is coming from you, Mahtab. As I recall you and Cassidy were on the same side of that issue.”

“We still are,” she replied archly. “But that doesn't mean I'm going to overlook this.” She gestured to the three of them. “We keep each other in check. I mean, five years ago we never even imagined we would be able to do anything near what we've been doing. It messes with your head, but we've all been there to call each other on it when we… lose perspective.”

“Yeah,” Russell had to agree on that front. “If Cassidy's been exploiting Adam's resources he could be on a whole other level now.”

“With no oversight,” Mahtab added.

Harry steepled his fingers and nodded thoughtfully. “I'll put a scrying team on Cassidy. If he's still active I'll look into hiring a P I.”

“There's no way he's not still practicing,” Mahtab shook her head.

“Regardless,” Harry sighed. He paused, and glanced out the window. “So… if anything turns up… what kind of response are we discussing?”

Mahtab looked apprehensively at Russell. “Well…” she said slowly. “If we can figure out a way to take away his powers, I mean… if that's possible…”

“We haven't even begun that vein of research, though,” Russell muttered.

“If he's using his powers for harm, then there's no question, right?” Mahtab glanced back and forth at the two of them. “If we can't stop him from using the craft then we'll have to…”

Russell finished as she trailed off. “Stop him, period.”

 

***

 

“I punched a little girl in the face today.”

Drew moved the tiny potted plant centrepiece to the side of the table as Ryan set down their vodka-Red Bulls. “Ryan don't take no shit from nobody!” he barked.

“It was more like an elbow; on the streetcar. I went to check my phone,” Ryan mimed reaching into his coat pocket and made a popping sound as he nudged his elbow outwards. “Right in the face.”

“How old are we talking about?” asked Drew as he fished an ice cube out with his tongue.

“Eight to ten, maybe?” Ryan guessed. “I mean I'm not a big guy. I'm not used to people gettin all up in my whatever.”

Drew nodded sympathetically as he crunched the ice cube. “Plus she was probably talkin’ shit bout you the whole time.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan laughed. “I need to get my bike fixed, man. TTC is fucking killing me.”

Drew grunted as he wiped off his mouth. “Y'know I gotta say that Saint Clair streetcar rocks. I mean I've just given up on the Queen Street one it's a nightmare.” He shook his head. “Dedicated lanes man. Should be standard issue.”

“You say that now,” Ryan retorted. “Wait til midwinter when everyone just en masse loses their fucking minds.”

“Well I think I'll have this sorted out by then.” Drew said it casually, but as the words were leaving his mouth he realized he had brought up something he didn't want to talk about. He took a long sip while Ryan awkwardly tried to gauge his mood without making eye contact.

He fiddled with a napkin. “Any, uhh… developments on that front?”

Drew set down his glass with just a swish of his drink inside. “Yeah… no. I dunno. Jamie’s texted me a few times but…” he threw back the last of his cocktail and didn't finish his sentence.

“You, uhh… responded to any?” Ryan prodded carefully.

Drew shook his head. “I just don't really… I don't know how to…” he struggled.

Ryan sipped his drink and nodded. Drew had been tight-lipped about the details of whatever had happened between him and Jamie. It was hard to be there for him and he didn't know what comfort Drew was looking for. When he had first asked to spend the night Ryan had just thought it was a spat. When he had come back the next day with a gym bag full of clothes…

It didn't help that Ryan was desperately horny like all the time, and had always had a thing for Drew. That had been buried under their friendship - which he valued too much to make his own move - but for longer and longer stretches each night Ryan lay awake staring out the window and hoping Drew would climb up off the sofa, plod across the dining room, wordlessly slip under the sheets next to him, and fuck him til sunrise. Sometimes Drew got up during these periods and Ryan would stop breathing, feel his heart rate skyrocket, and only regain himself when he heard the bathroom door close or the kitchen sink go on. He wanted to be a good friend but it was, he was beginning to realize, slowly driving him crazy.

“Still with us?” Drew broke what had evidently been a long silence.

“Sorry I was just thinkin,” Ryan mumbled, finishing his drink.

“‘Bout what?” asked Drew.

“Asses,” Ryan replied with a shrug.

Drew nodded. “That waiter must've walked into your field of vision.”

Ryan looked over the rim of his empty glass pretending to drink. The big beefy blonde had a size-too-small Firkin shirt stretched across his thick pecs, chatting up an older couple sitting by the window. Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Really? That's your thing?”

“Are you kidding me?” Drew asked incredulously. “Have you seen his ass? It looks like it's got a mind of its own.”

“This is you trying to convince me this is appealing? I'm literally picturing a talking ass.”

Drew looked backward over his shoulder. The waiter caught him looking and smirked. “Shit he caught me,” Drew hissed, turning back to the table.

“Oh shit he's on to you,” Ryan smiled, and continued narrating, lowering his voice. “Oh shit he's coming over. Oh shit he looks pissed.”

His wide shadow fell across the table and Drew looked up at his wide, dimple-pinching friendly smile. “You boys want another?” He pointed an open hand at each of them, glancing back and forth.

“Could I get a whiskey sour?” asked Ryan.

The waiter clapped his hands together and nodded. “Whiskey sour and…?” he swerved back to Drew.

“Uhh....” Drew didn't want another vodka-Red Bull but hadn't thought up any alternatives. “Umm, uhh… a cosmo?”

“Tasty,” the waiter winked at him. “Comin right up, guys.”

Ryan narrowed his gaze at an ass that, he had to admit, seemed to dance all over the top of his legs with every step. “Okay, is it just me or is it not insulting for straight bartenders to flirt with gays?”

Drew rolled his eyes. “That wasn't flirting.”

“Okay fine; he was being flirty.”

“Oh good,” Drew purred, “a semantic argument with Ryan.”

Ryan flipped him off. “As if you didn't start it. You often wink at people when they ask for an increase on their credit limit?”

“Well…” Drew exaggerated a thoughtful stare, “I wouldn't call it ‘often.’”

“I'm just saying,” Ryan sighed. “it's just such blatant tip-bait I'm almost embarrassed for them.”

“Guh,” Drew slumped forward on the table, briefly palming his forehead before rhyming off points on his fingers. “First? Don't get snobby about other people's jobs; you're better than that. Second, people come to a bar to be social, and when it comes to gay dudes, half-joke-flirting is an easy go-to icebreaker for everyone. Third, bartenders flirt. Flirting just comes with the job. Get over it or don't go to bars.”

“Okay sure,” Ryan ceded, “but this guy's not taking any men home tonight. How is that not deceptive?”

“Jesus christ, Ryan, if you're coming to bars expecting to leave with the bartender I don't know what I can…”

The big buff waiter sidled up next to their table apparently out of nowhere. He set their drinks down in front of them and nodded. “There you go, guys,” he chuckled, and grinned as he turned and walked away.

“Fuck he totally heard me,” Drew glanced at the whiskey sour in front of him and switched their drinks.

“Yeah and he probably thinks it means I wanna fuck him,” Ryan raised his glass. “Thanks for that,” he added before he took a sip.

“What has you so convinced he's straight?” asked Drew. “Do you know this guy?”

“No, but what indication has he given that he's gay?”

“That's heteronormative thinking,” Drew pointed at him. “We talked about this.”

Ryan shook his head. “No, you ranted about it and I bit my to tongue because in MY experience HOMOnormative thinking just ends up disappointing you.”

Drew shrugged. “Yeah mine too.”

They stayed there alternating between conversing and bickering and deriding each other's taste in nearby men for another two hours and three cocktails. They finished off with shots of B-52.

Ryan dropped his phone as he wobbled out the door. Drew picked it up while he steadied himself on the wall. “Steady on, bro,” he chided playfully.

“S’not my fault,” Ryan slurred. “Gettin drunk off hardly anything s’part of my ancientscultural heritage.”

“Yeah but so is drinking enough vodka to put a horse in a coma,” Drew handed him his phone. “I feel like they should balance each other out.”

Ryan had tuned out as he checked his phone. He only made it a few steps before he stopped, his face lit up from his screen and his thumbs tap dancing over his keyboard.

Drew stopped and looked back. “Everything okay, man?”

“It's Casey,” Ryan moaned. “He's drunk and horny.”

“Casey, Casey....” Drew thought a moment then ran a hand up his arm. “With the tattoos?”

“Yeah.”

“The part-time model?” Drew persisted.

Ryan nodded.

“Dude what are you still even doing here?”

“‘M too drunk!” Ryan whined. “And he's jus’ gonna try and feeds me more booze.”

“Get an espresso and just dive right into the fucking,” Drew shrugged and sighed, musing to nobody: “Kids these days don't even know how to booty call right.”

They had come straight from work and it was still pretty early, so it wasn't long before they came across a Starbucks that was still open. Ryan got a latte instead but was already sobering up by the time they left for the subway. They parted ways at Wellesley station, Drew patting Ryan affectionately on the ass before bidding him good luck and sending him on his way.

Drew's phone had been buzzing against his thigh since they left the bar but he had been ignoring it, figuring it was probably Jamie. He paused on the sidewalk to check, holding out hope it was that six-foot-five Nordic rowing champion he had met on Grindr a while back. Nope; it was just Jamie.

He almost didn't bother reading them. They were generally one of three varieties: short apologies, short platitudes, or lengthy appeals. None of them had really satisfied the kind of violation he'd suffered. It was one thing that Jamie spun up that ridiculous story, it was worse that he had cloaked it in the fantasy Drew had worked very hard to keep hidden. Sometimes in the early morning when he was still half-asleep and delirious Drew found himself thinking what if it's all true? The resulting erection offered a nice jumpstart to his routine morning wank but once the endorphin rush wore off he'd dispelled the notion. He knows you want to believe that. That's why he told you that story. He's a fucking ad man. That's what they do.

How had he even found out? How long had he known? Drew was so careful whenever he went to anything macro related. It was almost reflex at that point. Never save passwords, always go incognito… he knew it wasn't foolproof but had Jamie actually gone digging? Was this some elaborate psuedo-gaslighting?

Drew was already putting his phone away again when he saw there were six messages from Jamie, which was unusual. Jamie had always played his hand conservatively. Drew pulled his phone back up and opened his messages, mildly concerned that something had happened to Oprah.

“Hey. I really need to see you tonight. Please come back to the condo. It won't take long.”

“D I know you're upset but I can make it all right i just need you to come back tonight.”

“Please at least just let me know one way or the other.”

Those had all been sent roughly ten minutes apart from each other two hours earlier. The next three had been sent right after each other only thirty minutes ago, as they were leaving the bar.

“I need to show you something. It might not fix everything but I think it'll fix a lot.”

“I can't text it to you.”

“If you don't stay after I won't try to stop you but please come and see.”

The tone was different. There was a certain assuredness to him that hadn't been around before. He had something to “show” him? What the hell did that mean?

He had half a mind to just text him “go fuck yourself” back but instead just put his phone away and went into the station. There was no point indulging Jamie. What could he possibly show Drew that would undo his bullshit?

As he walked down the stairs to the platform Drew began to second guess himself. How long was he planning on keeping this up? What was he waiting for Jamie to do or say? If he admitted it was all a lie would that be enough? Drew couldn't stay at Ryan’s forever and they had to sort it out eventually, one way or the other. Drew missed Jamie. He missed Jamie and Oprah and all his stuff and movie nights and spooning on Saturday mornings and getting stoned listening to post-rock and everything the way it had been.

They'd quibbled before and even had pretty heated fights but there had never been anything like this. Did that mean it was all over?

A subway pulled into the station and Drew backed up for people to get out, but once the parade of exiting passengers had ended he just stood there looking at the open doors.

Don't you want to try and fix it? Shouldn't you at least hear him out?

The doors chimed and Drew had an urge to just bolt in, sit down, think about something else and go to sleep on Ryan's couch. But the doors closed with him still on the other side, the transparent reflection of himself staring back from the window, looking miserable. The window slid away, thundering down the tunnel with the rest if the subway.

Drew climbed back up the stairs, and pulled out his phone again.

Coming be there soon

 

***

 

Cassidy reached down and scratched Oprah behind the ears as she nuzzled his ankle. “Aww… you're such a friendly little guy.”

She purred and licked his fingers and he giggled.

“It's weird she's usually terrible with strangers,” Jamie noted.

“Oh my god, really? I was just gonna say cats like generally hate me. Oh my god this one friend of Adam’s? His cat is just like hissing nonstop whenever I see him.” Oprah hopped away and up on the couch, and Cassidy flicked stray cat hairs off his fingers. “It's like I'm a human vacuum cleaner.”

Oprah climbed up on the couch next to Jamie and toppled onto her back so he would start petting her belly, and he obliged.

“How old is she?” asked Cassidy.

“I'm not sure,” Jamie shrugged. “Like four or five I guess. We inherited her from one of Drew's friends when she moved in with a guy who was allergic.” He grinned. “Then they split up and she wanted her back and we were like ‘nooooope!’”

Cassidy chuckled. “Did he say how long he was gonna be?”

“No. Sorry man. I'm honestly amazed he gave more than a one-word reply.” He sighed. “If you gotta take off, don't worry about it.”

“No no no,” Cassidy shook his head. “I can stick it out. I'm just not a fan of like night driving.”

“You can always…” Jamie stopped short as he heard keys rattling at the door. He froze.

Cassidy looked at him uncertainly for a moment before he stepped into the foyer.

Outside, Drew continued jingling his keys as loud as he could before he actually put his card in the lock. He didn't want to barge right in but knocking on his own door seemed retarded.

He opened the door and saw a short, skinny guy with glasses and dark hair. He had a sort of expectant but nervous look on his face.

“Sorry, wrong…” Drew at first assumed he was at the wrong condo but reminded himself he had just unlocked the door with his key. “Wait… what…?”

The stranger stepped over the small pile of shoes near the door. “Drew right?” he put out his hand. “I'm Cassidy?”

Drew looked at him and his extended hand dubiously. “Okaaaaay,” he said slowly. “What's, umm… where is…?”

“Jamie's right inside.” Cassidy quickly cut in. He laughed self-consciously. “I'm sorry, I know this must be, like…”

“What exactly are you doing here?” Drew interjected.

Cassidy swiveled his eyes towards the living room. “Umm… let's just like, go talk to Jamie, alright?” and with that he darted around the corner. “Oh my god, you didn't tell me he's so cute!” he said.

“Yeah,” Jamie's voice grumbled. “Hey D,” he called.

Drew closed the door behind him. Jamie sounded strange. He didn't really know what was wrong with it it just seemed… different.

He wriggled out of his shoes and padded through the kitchen, grimly noting the sink full of dirty dishes Jamie hadn't bothered to clean even with company coming over. Drew rolled his eyes and muttered “Figures,” as he rounded the corner and nearly had a heart attack.

Drew felt his neck tighten up, his lungs shrivel, and his sphincter squeeze shut. His eyes had widened so full it made his face ache and he wanted to blink but couldn't bring himself to look away even for that instant. He was afraid he would miss something that would betray the illusion it had to be.

Jamie sat on the couch and nearly filled the whole thing. He was enormous. It was impossible to guess but even sitting down his head was at least a foot higher than the usually taller Drew. The coffee table had been moved to the side to make room for Jamie’s legs, one of which was bent and the other splayed across the floor, his foot upright resting on his heel, its toes easily reaching up to Drew's knee. A bath towel had been draped across his lap to maintain some modesty.

And he was impossibly jacked. Wide round shoulders arched over two thick hard arms and a prodigious chest with a deep cleft in the middle. His thighs were huge, and even his calves looked bigger than his waist used to be. But it was Jamie's face smiling sheepishly at him on top of it all. Scratching Oprah’s back while she nuzzled his sausage-sized fingers.

“Look who’s home, Oprah!” said Jamie.

He lifted his hand off her and the cat hopped down, frolicked over to Drew and arched her back against his leg, mewing quietly.

It was all fucking true. It didn't make any sense at all but he couldn't deny what he was seeing. He thought he might be dreaming but he'd imagined Jamie like this a thousand times and his imagination was not nearly this vivid. Every detail was beyond perfect, like he had busted his way out of his fantasies and became flesh and bone.

Drew tried to speak but his neck was still constricted. He quickly relearned how to breathe and managed to croak out “How?”

“Kinda a long story,” Cassidy chuckled. “Short answer, I guess I'm like a wizard?”

Drew nodded. He took a step toward Jamie. “I'm so sorry…”

“It's okay,” Jamie assured him. He drew his outstretched leg in and beckoned Drew closer.

“No,” Drew shook his head, closing the gap.

“Yes,” Jamie replied. “C’mere.”

Drew could smell him as he closed in. It was that familiar musk he had gotten so used to waking up to and had missed without knowing it. Up close he looked totally gigantic. His wide, impossible frame filled Drew's field of view. He began to climb up onto him, and Jamie cupped his meaty palm under his butt to help him up to straddle his thigh. His huge arm barely even flexed, lifting up Drew with the effort most men took to pick up an apple.

“I've… dreamed about you like this. Fantasized,” Drew moaned.

Jamie smirked. “Really?” he blushed.

Drew nodded, biting his lip. “Fuck. I'm so hard right now.”

Cassidy, who Drew kept forgetting was even there, leaned against the wall, watching them. He'd expected there'd be more questions, more explaining to do, more fear. But Drew seemed right at home, leaning in against Jamie's meaty torso, resting his head on his pec, running his palm over his abs. A certain puzzle piece clicked into place, connecting what had been disparate ideas, and a slow realization dawned on Cassidy. As he watched them, Drew raising his hand to Jamie's shoulder, running it down his arm, pausing to squeeze along the way, Cassidy became more and more convinced that his theory bore out, and the more convinced he became the wider his smile grew.

“Drew, you… you want in on this?” he asked.

Drew turned back, his face flushed, almost in a trance. “Oh fuck yes.”

If that didn't clinch it he didn't know what could. Cassidy chuckled. “You might wanna, like, take your clothes off.”

Drew shook his head. “No.”

“But…”

“Fuck the clothes.”

“Wow,” Cassidy exclaimed. “You sure? I don't wanna…”

“Seriously,” Drew cut in forcefully, “fuck these clothes. I'm on board.”

Drew felt it first in his gut, that same kind of tug like he hadn't eaten all day. From there the same feeling seemed to creep up his torso and wind down through his legs. It was like every part of him was starving. It struck first in his ass, and he gasped as he felt it blow up with thick muscle. His suit pants were already tight from the weight he'd gained and it didn't take much for them to split, first at his hip then across the seat. His thighs swelled and the legs began to shred, first with threads split apart and digging into his muscle, then tearing open completely. He felt his calves expanding and the pants faring similarly down there.

Drew moaned as his chest began to grow out from his ribs, buttons clinging for dear life before splitting open. He looked up at Jamie who was watching Drew's transformation with his mouth hanging open. Drew reached up to Jamie's shoulders and pulled himself to his feet, standing on the couch and only barely higher than Jamie. He leaned in as the last of his buttons popped off, his undershirt clinging to his growing body, abs pushing out from under his modest paunch until they were visible through the thin cotton. Jamie put his hand on his back and squeezed him close. Drew looked into his lover’s face and couldn't believe he had ever doubted him. Of course it was possible; somewhere in the wishing and hoping he had known it, too. Drew leaned down and kissed Jamie as he felt his shoulders growing hard and round, his arms stretching to heavyweight proportions, biceps bulging with beef against his sleeves. God, it felt so transcendentally amazing, his shirt sleeves tightening, straining against his arms. Concerned for a microsecond that they would somehow win the fight against his inflating flesh; relieved and excited as he heard and felt the material give way to his thick, cut biceps.

With his sleeves hanging in tattered strips from his shoulders, Drew raised an arm and flexed, watching his already bulging muscles engorge themselves even more. His neck thickened with brawn, couched in traps that rose as his lats descended, spreading his dress shirt further apart, beginning to test the limits of his already stretched undershirt. He flexed his chest, felt his undershirt sliding across his hard nipples. He felt energized and powerful and so fucking horny he couldn't believe it. Drew pulled away from Jamie as he felt a pressure building in his crotch, looked down - with some difficulty to see past his pecs - to see the boner clearly visible through his tight underwear begin to pump larger and larger. He reached down and maneuvered it out the top of his waistband and felt the head sliding up his abs. It had to be a foot long, at least. He pinched the head a couple of times, moaning at the jolts of pleasure that pulsed out from his groin, then went back in to kiss Jamie, who grunted and thrashed his bigger tongue around Drew's mouth.

They were only able to kiss a few moments before Drew was pulled away, and found himself looking down at Jamie as he grew taller and taller, his body continuing to swell with muscle to maintain his insane proportions.

Drew stepped down off the couch as his head neared the ceiling. He was nearing Jamie's height at that point and was now better positioned to explore his body. He gripped Jamie's bulging traps, his huge shoulders, rubbed across his pecs and slipped under his arms, digging his fingers into Jamie's rockhard lats. As he felt his own body expanding beneath his skin, bones creaking larger, balls pushing his underwear to their limit between his thick thighs as they inflated, he felt and rubbed and squeezed all over Jamie. He was so warm, damp with sweat, thick and hard and so huge even Drew's growing hands seemed unable to really get a good hold on anything. Drew sensed the ceiling approaching from above and slowly lowered himself to his knees, kissing his way down Jamie's body, lingering briefly on his nipple, before he pulled the towel off the tent already pitched in Jamie's lap, revealing a thick fleshy half-hard cock throbbing its way to full-on boner over a pair of balls that were probably the size of cantaloupes, though Drew's altered proportions had messed with his perspective and the scale was all off. He glanced back, his chin jabbing his swollen shoulder, and saw Cassidy standing there watching, giddy but intensely concentrating, heedless of Oprah pawing at the cuff of his dockers. They seemed smaller and detached, like he was watching them on TV. Drew's growing seemed to have subsided for the moment.

Drew turned back to Jamie and gaped in surprise as he saw his cock raised to full mast yet swelling even bigger. Jamie moaned and leaned back on the couch, taking one hand and gripping a cushion. Drew hunched forward and licked the head of the rising cock, and Jamie’s huge body shuddered in reply. It was nearly three feet long, thick as a two-litre bottle, already leaking precum, and still getting bigger. It was completely unreal.

A sudden ache in his groin prompted Drew to look down just in time to see his cock, strangled by the taut waistband of his underwear, swell big enough to snap the elastic and burst free. Though his junk had been growing throughout, it was nowhere near as big as Jamie’s, though it was still well over a foot long. Drew wondered if Jamie’s asshole had grown large enough to accommodate it, as he reached down, ripped the remains of his undies off himself, and maneuvered his head towards Jamie’s asshole. Jamie gasped as he felt him pressing in, then grunted in pleasure as Drew licked a line of pre off his shaft, following it to its source at the tip of his giant cock, then slathering the head with his spit, tonguing the urethra.

Drew gently thrust deeper and felt with some alarm his cock begin to grow, pushing even deeper and pressed tighter in Jamie's ass, but the pressure was relieved as, to Drew's rapt delight, Jamie's whole body had begun to expand even larger. He shifted his butt forward off the couch and onto the floor, Drew following closely, chained by his dick to Jamie's ass. Jamie has his elbows on the seat of the couch and continued to lean back as he grew, moaning and laughing as he did. Drew bucked his hips into Jamie, looking up at his massive body. His cock had gotten so big the head was out of reach for Drew's tongue, but he kept rubbing it with all of his thick bulging arms, hugging it against his pecs and bouncing them against the shaft. He moaned into every thrust, marvelling at how far he could withdraw without pulling out completely.

“I'm close,” Jamie rumbled, his voice an octave lower. Drew started stroking faster and faster, jamming his hips back and forth at a greater pace as he felt his own cock throbbing inside Jamie, achingly close to climax. He craned his neck forward past his huge pecs, licking the underside of Jamie's pillar-like cock, then nuzzling it with his face, hearing Jamie's heartbeat throbbing within.

Jamie grunted, grabbing the towel off the floor and throwing it over the head of his cock. He drew a sharp breath. “Oh… holy fucking god!”

Jamie's gigantic cock churned out an explosion of cum that immediately soaked the towel, the second spurt flowed through the fabric and drizzled down his thick shaft, soaking into Drew's hair and down his face and he tasted it, hot and musky on his tongue. He continued to plow harder and harder into Jamie, who was still spewing out a fountain of jizz as Drew came.

His mouth hung open and his eyes squeezed shut as he felt shockwaves of bliss explode out from his cock, his whole huge body scintillating with hot, buttery ecstasy. Another gob of Jamie's spunk fell into his open mouth and he turned, licking more from Jamie's shaft and gulping it down. Drew unleashed volley after volley into Jamie's welcoming ass, his body seeming to act without any input from him, running on instinct or inertia, he couldn't say, but he felt as though his brain had short circuited from an overload of pleasure, and he just needed a moment to let everything get connected again.

He collapsed on top of Jamie, letting his feet slide back across the floor, feeling the edge of Jamie's calf along the top of it. Huge as Drew was, Jamie was somehow even bigger, and as he put his arm around him, Drew felt like a child by comparison.

Cassidy whistled from the kitchen. “Well, looks like my work is done.” He theatrically clapped his hands together. “Have a good night, boys.”

“Wait! Cassidy!” Jamie had to push Drew's big round shoulder out of the way to get Cassidy in his sights. “I just… I really, uhh… y'know.”

“You're welcome, oh my god,” Cassidy laughed. He laced up his shoes. “If I hadn't just seen you get fucked up the ass I'd swear you were straight.”

“You can spend the night if you want…” Jamie gestured back to the bedroom.

Cassidy laughed. “Oh my god! Like there's any room in here for anything other than you two. I'm like almost concerned for little Oprah here.”

Drew propped himself up on his elbow. “Nice, uhh.... nice meeting you,” he raised his hand to wave and scraped his fingernails on the ceiling. “Thanks so much, I just…. You have seriously no idea.”

“I think I might have a clue,” Cassidy replied as he laced up his shoes with a smile. “Y'know we should all like, go out sometime. Drew I have a feeling you and Adam would really get along.” He stood upright and winked through his glasses. “Have a good night,” he said again, making an awkward little half-wave before he made a wide stride over the boots near the door and let himself out.

Drew sighed. “Jamie…”

“How was Ryan’s?” Jamie cut him off.

“I need to explain,” Drew pressed on.

Jamie shook his head and pulled his thick body closer. “You don’t need to do anything, okay? It’s a… a very peculiar situation. We can deal with all that later, all right?” He kissed Drew’s giant pec. “I love you.”

Drew smiled warmly up at him and snuggled closer, their huge muscles pressing against each other. “I love you too.”

Jamie sighed contentedly and nodded. “Then we’re all set.”

 

[handsomegrad]

Guess I'm just doing a tour of all my favorites today...

Love the slow expansion of the world going on here at the same time as the guys are all growing so fast.

Can't wait for more.

[Maximilian]

Thanks for reading, guys, and sorry about the wait between chapters. The next one ended up getting pretty long, so I've divided it up into acts. I appreciate all the feedback so much. The posts are formatting a bit weird on the new forums so please just bear with me while I get it figured out.

 

Part 10: Nate

Act I: Woody’s

 

When Nate was nine years old, or maybe ten, he was out playing with his best friend Celeste, and together they dug under the warped section of the chain link fence surrounding the reservoir, as they often did. On that particular day, Nate slipped on a broken beer bottle and fell. He cracked his head open on the cement wall of the reservoir, fell into the water, and for all intents and purposes, drowned.

Celeste ran home and got her older brother, a lifeguard whose name was Randy or Ryan or something, and he got him out of the water and gave him CPR and resuscitated him.

Unfortunately, Nate got pneumonia from being in the water too long, plus Randy or whoever had broken a rib and bruised a lung while administering chest compressions. Normally this wouldn't have been that big a deal with immediate medical attention (which he received) but the head injury was a major complication, and no one was willing to anesthetize him until the swelling in his brain subsided, at which point, by all estimates, it would be too late.

Nine-or-ten-year-old Nate had never had to personally deal with death at that point but he had a sort of abstract impression of what was at stake. Mostly he was just pissed that his parents weren't letting Celeste see him. Really, it had been his idea, and if he was going to die it was a real dick move to not let him say goodbye to his best friend. Plus, from a practical perspective, if it hadn't been for Celeste he'd have died already.

His parents were distraught, which was understandable, but weren't really much help. Between arguments over who they could blame and/or sue, they were more concerned with consoling each other over what was about to happen than consoling Nate over what was actually happening to him right then. He felt very angry, confused, lonely and terrified.

Nate's only source of legitimate comfort during this period came from his au pair, Sofia, who sat by his bed telling him outlandish stories which he would later discover were the plots of several action movies. She kept him comfortable, distracted, and reassured. She even brought him a letter from Celeste.

Two weeks after the accident, Nate had continued to deteriorate. He couldn't keep anything down and had to be fed intravenously. He felt so weak, hungry and delirious.

Nate awoke one night to find Sofia over him. She spoke in Spanish and was making strange gestures. He assumed she was praying, which scared him a little because he thought you only pray for people when they're about to die. He went back to sleep unsure that he would wake up again.

But Nate did wake up, and he was all better. He had a bit of a headache, he was hungry as hell, and his joints were sore from being bedridden for so long, but he could breathe normally, he could see clearly, and he felt strong and awake and normal. It was like it hadn't happened at all.

He got out of bed and started running around the house like a maniac, but Sofia found him and sternly forced him back into bed. She told him he had to pretend to be sick for a little while, that he couldn't tell anyone about what had happened, that he had to tell his parents and the doctors that he was feeling a little bit better every day. They wouldn't understand what happened, they'd ask questions, they'd make Sofia go away.

Nate didn't understand, and he started asking questions, and he wouldn't let Sofia off the hook when she insisted she couldn't answer them. So, in order to get him to play along, Sofia told him everything.

It turned out Sofia had a secret. Now, Nate had it too.

***

Jamie, Drew, and Ryan shouldered their way through a gaggle of hunks in speedos and sandals to squeeze past a bouncer who waved them inside Woody’s. The place was packed to capacity but they lucked out and scooped a table in a corner just as another party was leaving. Jamie and Ryan shimmied into the booth while Drew went to get a pitcher.

“You were saying?” asked Jamie as he moved a demolished nacho platter aside.

Ryan took a second to regain his bearings. “Okay, so I'm like ‘no, I don't watch it’ and he's like ‘oh my god I just got into it it's the best.’” Ryan held up a finger. “THEN he spends a literal hour going over the whole first season.”

Jamie laughed. “Guy sounds like a real riot.”

“So at a certain point I'm like ‘okay this guy has no longterm potential but maybe I can still wring a one night stand outa this.’”

“Only logical,” Jamie applauded.

“So we finish our drinks and it's like nine-thirty; ten, and he asks if I'd like to go back to his place for, I quote, ‘cocktails.’”

Jamie chuckled. “Guy's got a real flair for allegory.”

“Except,” Ryan grinned, “we get back to his place where we start watching - guess - the Good Wife… which he knows I've never watched but we just pick up where he left off and he explains what's going on the whole show. He mixes me the most watered down martini I've ever fucking had, burns a frozen pizza, and then after two bewildering episodes of this fucking show he has a big laborious yawn and kicks me out of his apartment.”

“Oh,” Jamie tilted his head. “Literal cocktails.”

“Yup,” Ryan shrugged.

Jamie nodded. “Well that blows, man. Your luck’s gonna turn around any day now.”

Ryan grinned. “What happened to ‘I don't believe in luck?’”

Jamie chucked, adjusting his glasses. “Well… certain events have recently made me… reevaluate my belief systems.”

“Oh?” Ryan laughed. “Sounds juicy. Do go on.”

Jamie smirked. “Kind of a long story…”

Drew squeezed through the crowd and planted a pitcher and trio of pint glasses on the table, sitting down with a sigh. “Phew! Wasn't sure I'd make it back.”

Jamie gave him a peck on the cheek. “Your idea, D. I was content to just stay home and porn out all day.”

Drew nodded plaintively. “He's recently discovered Brent Corrigan,” he explained to Ryan.

Ryan waved at them dismissively. “Yesterday's news, man.”

Jamie nodded. “Right, I keep forgetting what a connoisseur you are.”

“I'm just kidding,” Ryan drew himself up and adopted a tone of mock authority. “Speaking as a connoisseur, Brent's actually quite relevant to the current porn scene. He's broken into directing.”

Drew laughed. “A true renaissance man.”

“He's got like… a different screen name for like… actorly acting,” Ryan took a thoughtful gulp of beer. “Something…” he snapped his fingers. “Sean Paul Lockhart.”

“Remind me to IMDB him,” Jamie nudged Drew.

“You really want to keep your finger on the pulse of modern porn, check out Johnny Rapid.”

Drew laughed. “Y'know what just e-mail him a list.”

Ryan chuckled. “So your friends are meeting you here or…?”

Jamie checked his phone. “Adam texted me when they got on the subway. I've been keeping him up to speed but haven't heard back.”

“Are you guys like co-coupling all week?” asked Ryan.

Drew and Jamie exchanged glances. “It sounds like they got a pretty full docket,” Jamie replied. He shrugged. “I dunno. I know for sure we're all doing Big Primpin. Bunch of us are. You're coming too right?”

Ryan made a face, and Drew shook his head. “I still haven't tricked him into agreeing to it.”

“It's just… I dunno,” Ryan sighed. “It just seems like one of your.... couple posse things.”

Jamie raised his eyebrow. “What the fuck is a couple posse?”

“It's Ryan's excuse for getting out of things,” Drew answered before Ryan had a chance to.

“Come on, man. You guys have been going out for like forever,” Ryan reminded them. “You have no idea what it's like being a gay single in a room full of gay couples. And they're all like… y'know, playful and like… half-flirty with each other and there's all this weird innuendo…”

Drew leaned into Jamie and hugged him from behind, leaning his head on his shoulder. “We're not like that, right kitty muffin?”

Jamie nuzzled him back. “Aww of course not sugar minnow dumpling.”

“Love you!”

“I love you more, honey badger.”

“No I love YOU more, snusnu booboo bear.”

They kept rubbing faces against each other and descended into a soupy mash of excessively adorable gibberish. Ryan pursed his lips dryly and took a sip of beer silently.

Drew released Jamie and sat upright, clicking his tongue. “Oh come on. No sulking.”

Jamie tapped his finger on the table. “I'm kidding, and I do know what you mean. People get couply and I try hard not to.  In fact, don't mention any recent meals you've made in front of Grant and Wes. Or that you've ever cooked anything at all… or just food in general.”

“Okay yeah but they just suck,” Drew shook his head. “No, look. You're complaining you want more gay friends and this is an easy in; you're cooler than these guys. Think of them as stepping stones. Or those people-stairs from 300.”

Jamie gave him a sidelong look. “Jesus christ. Who ARE you?”

“Plus,” Drew continued, “gay couples have a high turnover rate. Think of these as… trailers. For movies… which may or may not get released.”

Jamie’s eyes widened. “This is some of the worst shit I've ever heard.”

Drew rolled his. “Please. It's not even the worst shit you've heard all day.”

Ryan gestured between the three of them. “See this is kinda what I'm talking about. Notice the conversation keeps circling around how single I am?” He sighed. “I just don't want to pre-party with a bunch of couples cooing about how great I am and then go to a bar full of singles where nobody hits on me.”

“You really worry a lot about not getting hit on for a guy that gets hit on all the fucking time,” Drew observed. “Look, it's a big party with a big bar and all right music. I'd like you to come, but do whatever you want.”

Ryan drained the last of his pint and smacked his lips. “I'm gonna take a piss. I'll grab the next one.” He stood and squirmed his way through the crowd.

Jamie watched him go, then leaned in close to Drew. “I don't think this is a good idea anymore.”

Drew nodded with a frown. “Yeah… I kinda had the same impression.”

“I just don't think… it's a quick fix for a…”

“I know, I said,” Drew cut him off. He sighed. “It's just… tough to watch him go… it's like, only getting worse. I thought…”

Jamie shook his head. “It's not gonna solve anything.”

“Yeah,” Drew agreed quietly. “I know.”

[Maximilian]

Part 10: Nate

Act II: The Black Eagle

 

Sofia called it Santeria. She told him God gave magic to people long ago and that most people had forgotten how to use it. Nate tried googling Santeria and just ended up reading the lyrics to the Sublime song which didn't help him out much.

For months, maybe even a year, Sofia was not forthcoming, and shut down the conversation whenever Nate asked about it, which he frequently did. All she said was that she used to do it a long time ago, but she didn't do it anymore. She said white people didn't trust magic and thought everything was the devil; that if his parents found out, they'd send her away. So it took a while before she finally relented, and started teaching him how it was done.

Sofia said that the best approach was to pick one thing you wanted to do, as it only became more reliable with years of practice. She had learned how to heal people, but she could teach him to open the door. Once he was on the other side, he could walk whatever path he wanted.

Little Nate thought very carefully.

***

Brent was still sweating as he exited Goodlife Fitness, holding the door open for Ayush as he wriggled into his backpack. Ayush glanced behind him to make sure none of the staff was in earshot.

“Brent, you’re crazy. That place sucks,” he squinted through his glasses in the sunlight, fishing his prescription sunglasses out of his gym bag.

Brent shrugged. “I told you it wasn’t that great. But I’d rather work out on shitty equipment than just wait around for something to finally free up. All the downtown spots are crammed.”

Ayush sighed. “Yeah everyone’s trying to look their best for Pride, I guess,” he rolled his eyes.

Brent gave him a sidelong look as he unlocked his bike. “Aren’t we?”

Ayush shrugged. “Well yeah, I mean we’re everyone too.”

Brent pulled his bike free as Ayush did the same. “You wanna grab something to eat on the way or…” he saw Ayush distracted by his phone.

“Hm?” he looked up. “Nah let’s just go home; I want a shower. Sorry, I’m just trying to find another route home. I don’t wanna bike on Finch.” He looked back down. “Okay this looks good. Follow me.” Ayush hopped on his bike and pedalled out of the parking lot before Brent had a chance to weigh in.

Ayush had been an annoying roommate at first but Brent hadn’t lived with anyone before and he figured it would’ve taken some getting used to no matter who it had been. They’d since grown on each other, and these days were hanging out pretty much all the time. Ayush was gay too, but they weren’t each other’s types so there was little to no sexual tension, and it was fun to pal around with another queer. Brent had never really done that before. Ayush could be a bit fussy, and a bit of a clean freak, and he was obsessed with Golden Girls which Brent just didn’t understand, but he was a good guy and they got along.

He got turned around at one point but they still got home in good time. Ayush took a shower and Brent made tuna salad, and after Brent showered they sat out on the front porch of the house they rented together, eating sandwiches and drinking protein shakes.

“Anything on the go tonight?” Ayush asked.

“Yeah I was gonna go to some like, drag queen stand up at, uhh… I dunno it's some Ryerson campus bar,” he shrugged and took a swig of his shake.

Ayush nodded. “Cool. You goin with Nate or…”

Brent shrugged and shook his head. “Nah he's got some… I'm not sure, really. But he's pretty much booked all week.”

“That sucks,” said Ayush carefully. “So you guys are like… uhh…”

Brent felt himself blushing. Nate had been over a few times since he and Ayush moved in together. They’d tried to be considerate but there was only so much they could do. These were not thick walls. “We haven't like… laid it all out or anything but… we're not like... exclusive.”

“Oh.” Ayush nodded. “Have you been seeing anyone else?”

Brent paused. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, no.”

“But he has,” Ayush concluded.

Brent sighed and looked down into the beige bubbles of his protein shake.

Ayush paused. “Sorry man I didn't mean to, like…”

“Nah, it's fine,” Brent sat back. “I'm fine with it I just… I don't really know how to…” he shrugged and didn't finish his sentence.

“Well if that stand up thing ends early,” Ayush began tentatively, but seemed to like his own idea better the more he talked about it, “you should meet up with us at the Eagle.”

Brent squinted at him. “The Black Eagle?”

Ayush swallowed his gulp of protein shake. “Yeah. Some friends of mine are like,” he rolled his eyes dismissively, “into leather.” He shrugged. “You should put yourself out there. You're a good looking guy. You'd be a big hit.”

Brent felt himself blushing harder. He smiled and took another swig, chuckling, “Shut up.”

“I'm serious,” Ayush insisted. “Everyone sensationalizes the Eagle but it's actually pretty tame these days. All the, like, repressed college kids went for the novelty and then stuck around.”

Brent nodded plaintively. “I've been.”

Ayush grinned. “Oooooooo. Go on.”

Now THAT was a story Brent wasn't prepared to tell just yet. He decided to limit his account to a coy nod. “Fun night.”

Ayush finished his shake and rose off the plastic patio chair, picking his plate up off the floor. “Anyway think about it.” He circled around Brent and went back inside.

Brent nodded, replying “For sure,” as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, basking in the sun.

***

Adam swiped at Cassidy but he pirouetted away with a giggle, holding his phone out of reach. Adam grimaced. “C’mon, Cass…”

“Aaaaand it's done,” Cassidy slipped his phone into his back pocket. “I booked us a room at the Mariott.”

“God dammit Cass,” Adam groaned. “That's such a fucking waste of money.”

“Oh my god, Adam, seriously? When are you gonna, like, let yourself be an adult.” Cassidy lowered his voice as if it was a secret. “We have the money.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah you mean YOU have the money.”

“Jesus,” Cassidy sucked his teeth impatiently, and took Adam's hand in his. “Money I have is money WE have, remember? We're a team, right?” he smiled up at Adam but Adam just pursed his lips in annoyance and slipped his hand free. Cassidy narrowed his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “We had a plan and now…”

“Oh fuck that,” Cassidy shook his head. “You've been a total grump since we got on the subway.”

Adam had a sarcastic retort ready to go but rethought it with a sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking Cassidy’s hand again. “I just get anxious every Pride. I dunno.”

“What?” Cassidy made a face. “No you don't.”

“Well, every other Pride,” Adam shrugged. “And now all this shit with Jamie…”

“What are you talking about, what with Jamie?” Cassidy asked. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing new, no, but…” Adam chewed his lip. “I think he thinks I'm a joke.”

Cassidy held up his hands, begging the question. “Based on what?”

“It doesn't matter, never mind.” He took a couple of steps before he groaned again. “They said we could have their couches.”

“Oh my god. I doubt they'll be broken up about it Adam. Calm the fuck down.”

“It's gonna be like a thousand dollars.”

“Adam, I swear to fucking god.” Cassidy spun in front of him to stop him, standing face to face. Some kid who'd been walking behind Adam nearly bumped into him. Cassidy waited for the kid to pass before he continued. “Adam. We can have a slumber party any time of the year, but this is Gay Pride. I am going to have gay sex; with my husband; in, like, a bed. Okay?”

Adam nodded glumly.

“And like, I don't know what you think’s going on with Jamie but last time I talked to him? He was like twenty feet tall with a six foot cock.”

A grin crept onto Adam’s face.

“I see a smiiiiile,” Cassidy teased, tickling Adam's belly through his T-shirt.

Adam playfully slapped his hand away and adjusted the overnight bag strapped to his shoulder. “Alright, so I guess we’re staying in a hotel? You wanna check in first or…?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I dunno. Where’s Jamie and Drew?”

Adam pulled out his phone. “Uhh… they left Woody’s. They're eating somewhere or… looking for a place to eat, I guess.” He looked up. “You hungry?”

“Meh,” Cassidy shrugged. “I'm on my Pride diet.”

“Which is what, nothing?”

“Oh my god, don't be silly,” Cassidy chided. “Handful of blueberries in the morning and, like a glass of lemon water at night.”

Adam chuckled.

“Okay,” Cassidy said thoughtfully, “how about we go to the hotel, get ourselves settled, maybe… get touched up a bit and hit the town just as the sun's going down.”

Adam draped his arm around Cassidy's shoulders. “Very romantic,” he nodded his approval, then turned to look at him judiciously. “Touched up?”

Cassidy shrugged coquettishly. “We might  as well. Like, no one here's gonna notice a difference.”

Adam laughed. “Any excuse.”

“What, are you like, objecting?” asked Cassidy pointedly.

Adam smiled and took Cassidy's hand again.

***

Nate looked back over his shoulder, and cast another net over the crowd. Still nothing. It was his third day prowling around the Black Eagle and his efforts hadn't paid off. Maybe it was a bad strategy, or maybe he should be more aggressive. The guys in there were a mix of hardcore leather fetishists showing off their gear or younger guys in street clothes pretending they saw that shit every day. They were generally all thinking the same thing, which was: “What is everyone thinking about me?”

Nate didn't really have to wonder that anymore, because he had learned how to listen in on other people's thoughts, and had been doing it for years. He was a bonafide telepath.

There were times when he was a kid that he wished he had invested in something more glamorous while training with Sofia, particularly when his friends started getting their growth spurts and his was late in coming and pretty lacklustre when it finally did. But he'd since refined his talent, and it had come in very handy. Especially during exams, and nights on the town. Nate wasn't entirely sure his current plan would work. The only other practitioner he'd ever met was Sofia and she only taught him on the condition he would never read her. It didn't matter, though. Even if plan A fell apart plan B had potential. Either way, he was expecting this Pride to be the best ever.

Nate hadn't wanted to get too drunk but knew he couldn't keep drinking water and keep his low profile. The half-full pint he'd been nursing for forty-five minutes had gone lukewarm and kind of gross. He took one last swig with a cringe, then left it on table and squirmed through the crowd to get to the bar.

The lean slender otter wearing a leather vest took a few minutes to get to him. Tyson, though Nate had picked that up from the regulars as opposed to an actual scan. Tyson was trying to multitask and kept getting distracted by his plans with friends later. They were apparently determined to get him a boyfriend and he wasn't really feeling it. His thoughts kept spiralling to the same image: a cute blonde guy named Blake.

Nate waited for Tyson to finish with a large group in front of him, and Tyson was relieved when all he asked for was another beer.

“Hey,” Nate called after he generously tipped. Tyson came back expecting to be hit on. “Maybe you can help me. So, I’s here a few months ago with my bud, right. Met this guy, said he was a regular.”

Tyson shrugged, and a long reel of faces fluttered through his mind. “Name?”

Nate smirked and shook his head. “Nah, there's the thing. I’s pretty drunk, don't remember. But he was like, a big guy,” Nate held his hand up above his head. “An’, like, big,” he held his hands in front of an imaginary belly.

A picture of an older guy with silver hair popped up in Tyson’s mind with some measure of annoyance. Nate had seen him as he came in, and Tyson pointed to him at the other end of the bar. “Andy?”

Nate shook his head. “Nah, he's not really into wearing leather. “Was wearing a Jays hat.”

Tyson furrowed his brow, and the large grinning face of Butch came into his mind, one that matched the memory Nate had read from Brent. “Think his name was like Bud or....”

“Butch?” asked Tyson.

“You guys serving drinks here or what?” a big white guy in a leather cop uniform shouted from the other end the the bar.

Tyson rolled his eyes. “One sec,” he muttered before darting off.

Nate watched after him. He was getting closer and closer. Brent had got him off to a good start, and now Tyson had given him a name. Butch…

“Hey,” a tall form shouldered up next to him. “You're asking about Butch.”

The stranger was handsome, a bit older, some kind of middle eastern, and pretty clean cut. A cursory surface scan gave Nate the boilerplate bio: Tahar, forty-four, from Lebanon, some kind of lawyer. Butch’s image was very detailed in Tahar’s mind, but he was what Nate had come to call a “loaded memory.” Sometimes people had certain thoughts that they had fairly strong emotional attachments to. Nate had learned to identify them and generally avoid them, because tapping into them sometimes opened up a deep rabbit hole that could disorient and even nauseate him. It was tempting, but he decided to stick to his policy for now.

“Yeah,” Nate answered. He shrugged nonchalantly. “No big, man. Jus’ wanted to say hi.”

Tahar nodded. He was apprehensive talking about Butch, and was afraid he would betray something. It was safe, Nate surmised, to assume that Tahar was aware of his powers. Nate was nearly there. The degrees of separation were slowly diminishing.

“When did you say you met him?” asked Tahar. He was fishing, trying to see if their stories would synch up. He didn't seem to have much of an endgame in mind. Nate got the impression he was being vetted in an aimless, abstract sort of way.

“Back in April, I think,” Nate replied. “Forget. It was middle of the week.”

Butch was glaring white hot in Tahar’s mind. Even without digging deeper Nate could sense a jagged pathwork of emotions bubbling up under the memory of Butch. Tahar was very conflicted about Butch, it seemed. “Got his number or anything? He live in the city?”

“He's a trucker,” Tahar lied. But… it was a lie he used to think was true. “I haven't seen him since… around that time too i guess. But no, I uhh… don't have his number.” Tahar sipped his beer, thinking about how he felt guilty for being angry even if his reasons were legitimate.

Nate took a gulp from his own pint, mulling things over. Tahar was the key, he knew, but this loaded memory was heavier than anything Nate had ever encountered before.

He extended his hand. “Nate. I'm Nate.”

“Tahar,” he nodded back, and took his hand.

Nate decided to go for it. Not for long, just a quick scan. Get the lay of it. If he was able to spend more time with Tahar he might be able to decipher his memories of Butch in a way that softened the impact. But Tahar was already reminding himself not to think of Butch, and Nate couldn't pass up the opportunity. He peeled back the corner, just took a peek.

The memories exploded into full view. They were so densely interconnected they were impossible to sort out. So many images, sensations, reactions. It was fixated largely around a morning after a night with Butch and… Butch wasn't Butch at all.

In an instant Nate relived the memory of being grown into a giant muscle behemoth. Marvelled at his massive size and… oh god that cock! Cassidy Cassidy Cassidy. Nate felt all the rage and love and ecstasy exploding simultaneously in such a deep pool it took all his effort to pull out again.

He groaned and swayed on his feet, tried to keep from falling but his legs wouldn't listen to him. Tahar's eyes went wide and he hooked his arm under Nate, catching him and keeping him upright. “Whoa! Holy shit are you all right?”

Nate stood upright and steadied himself on the bar. “Yeah jus’ too much beer, I guess. Sorry man.” Tyson was looking at him from behind the bar. A few other patrons had seen it too.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Tahar suggested, moving his hand to Nate's shoulder, and thinking that he didn't seem that drunk and that it was maybe a blood sugar thing.

“Nah, I'm jus’ gonna get some air,” Nate withdrew and was swallowed in the crowd.

Of course! It hadn't occurred to him before but it should've been obvious. Butch didn't exist. He'd been looking for the wrong guy this whole time. He needed to find…

“Nate?”

Nate was already halfway through shouldering past him when he realized it was Brent's roommate Ayush. Shit.

“Hey man.”

“Hey! Is Brent here already?” Ayush asked.

“Huh?” Nate shrugged. “Don’ think so. Didn't see ‘im.” He pointed his thumb out the door. “Was jus’ leavin.”

“Oh…” Ayush brightened, “well he's coming in a bit I think, if you wanted to…”

“Nah that’d be nice but I gotta be somewhere. Later,” Nate took off but couldn't help hearing Ayush’s parting thought: poor Brent.

Nate agreed. Brent had fallen for him pretty hard, which Nate hadn't meant to happen. Brent had been really pumped about hanging out with him over Pride but Nate had put all his energy into getting this figured out, and Pride was the best chance he had. If it paid off, he'd make it up to Brent, and then some. It was only more incentive to make it work. And if he did? He'd always thought the limits would be much more conservative but Tahar had become absolutely gigantic, and there was no reason why he couldn't get even bigger.

Nate took out his phone and tapped the Facebook icon. How many Cassidys could there be?

[Maximilian]

Part 10: Nate

Act III: WAYLA (or “What Are You Looking At”)

 

“All right, Ladies, that’s it for me,” DJ HardCorey cooed into the mic, “but don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands with Nino Brown who’ll be taking over til the sun comes up. Let me sign off with a tribute to one of this year’s Grand Marshals. Happy Pride, bitches!” The frenetic dance music changed over to a Katy Perry cover of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Corey blew the crowd a kiss and handed the headphones off to woman with long black hair wearing a leather jacket that she must have been boiling in. He descended off the pulpit and glided through the crowd to where Jamie had waved him over.

“Holy god, I’m fucking hot,” Corey nodded out the back door. “Let me grab a drink and I’ll meet you on the patio.”

The “patio” was a generous term for what was really just a tight corral for smokers out the back end of WAYLA. Jamie, Drew and Ryan didn’t have to wait long before Corey joined them with a gin and tonic in one hand and an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Ugh,” he rolled his eyes. “This is my last Pride show, I swear to God.” He took the cigarette from his lips and gave Jamie and Drew a peck on the cheek each before he replaced and lit it.

“Corey this is my friend Ryan,” Drew nodded in Ryan’s direction.

Ryan smiled awkwardly and stuck out his hand. “Cool show. What I caught, anyway.” Corey shook the offered hand but didn’t seem very interested.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah seemed good to me. What’s the problem?”

“Fuckin god. You have no idea,” Corey assured him. “It’s just stress I don’t need. Anyway I’m lying I’m sure I’ll be back next year. Can’t let the community down, or whatever.” Corey examined Drew judiciously as he took a long inhale. “What about you, Drew? Anything to say about THIS one?”

Drew cocked his head and fixed Corey with a sarcastic smile. “Great stuff, Cor,” he chuckled with mock enthusiasm.

Corey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Corey, I promise you if I’d known it was going to get back to you, I wouldn’t have said anything,” said Drew, throwing a glare at Jamie, who shrugged. Drew sighed and turned back to Corey. “Just not really my scene.”

Corey shrugged. “Well thanks for suffering through it.”

Drew’s insincere smile was wider than ever as he sucked his teeth. “Anytime, buddy.”

Jamie coughed. “So… Ryan’s in a band,” he elbowed Ryan in an obvious ploy to change the subject.

Ryan’s eyes widened. He wasn't a fan of talking about himself at all but he hated talking about the band. “Uhh… it’s not really… I mean we’ve played like two shows this whole year it’s not, y’know…”

Corey nodded. “What kind of music is it?”

God this was torture. “Uhh… it's like kinda… experimental… y'know, drone metal?”

“Drone; metal?” Corey asked in a tone that suggested this was his first time hearing either of those words.

“Yeah,” Ryan shrugged. Have you heard of, like, Boris? Gravetemple? Year of No Light?”

Corey glanced back at Jamie. “These are bands?”

Ryan sighed. “There's actually a pretty big scene in the city. Lots of people doing some real interesting things. This band Nadja? So good. We got to open for them last year.”

“That sounds awesome,” Corey nodded and turned back to Jamie. “So you still fired?”

Jamie smirked. “Well they haven't hired me back, but I've been consulting with BGM on a three month contract and…”

Man, why'd I have to open my stupid fucking mouth? Ryan thought to himself, tuning out Jamie. Opening for Nadja was one of the best nights of his life but he'd never told that to another gay guy and gotten anything back but a blank stare.

Jamie chuckled to himself. “Uhh… Adam's here,” he nodded towards the interior. Ryan followed his gaze.

Even through the fogged up glass doors he could see this guy was turning heads. Corey turned idly as he took a puff from his cigarette, then did a double take with a cough. “You gotta be shittin me.”

He was a tall guy with a thick build wearing a plain black T-shirt that was one size too small for him, at least. His dark hair was arranged in a messy swoop, jagged bangs skirting his eyes. He was closely followed by a shorter guy with short, spiked black hair.

“Hey,” he nodded a greeting at them, though he stopped when he spotted Corey. “Oh.”

Jamie smiled. “Hey Adam. This is Ryan and this is…”

“We've met,” Corey cut him off. He looked past Adam to his companion. “Hi Cassidy. Been… working out?”

Cassidy started. “Uhh… hi Corey. Long time no see.”

Drew and Jamie exchanged glances of some alarm. Ryan quickly got the impression that there was some element that was going over his head.

“So…” Jamie prodded the silence, “were you guys in… the same club?”

“Ooooh,” Corey looked back at Jamie and Drew. “So you guys know about all this?” He turned and glared at Cassidy. “What a surprise,” he spat.

This was getting annoying. “Know about what?” Ryan asked.

“Oh wow,” Corey sarcastically marvelled. “Someone you've met who's still in the dark after thirty seconds.”

Drew ducked behind Jamie in an effort to keep from standing next to Corey. “It's… it's a long story,” he mumbled to Ryan.

“It's not like that,” Jamie was meanwhile assuring Corey. “Me and Adam have been friends for years.”

Corey ignored him. “So you tell your buds; you leave the house looking like that,” he counted off on his fingers.

“Looking like what?” asked Ryan.

Drew leaned in. “Seriously it's no big deal,” he shrugged nonchalantly, though Corey seemed to think otherwise.

“Is there anything else we should be aware of?” Corey continued unabated.

“C'mon, Cor,” Adam appealed, “we're just trying to have a night out for Pride, can this not be a thing?”

“Yeah I mean oh my god,” Cassidy raised his palm. “Take a pill or whatever.”

Adam cringed. “Not helping, Cass.”

“Seriously,” Ryan interjected. “What the hell are you all talking about.”

Everyone looked at their shoes. Corey took a big gulp from his cocktail and rattled the ice around in the otherwise empty glass as he swallowed. “Oh look at that. I need a refresh,” he said, and darted back inside.

Ryan glanced between the couples, who kept on looking at each other but saying nothing. He found himself getting sick of the in crowd routine that seemed to dog him wherever he went. “I'm gonna use the washroom,” he mumbled, and shimmied back inside.

As close as he was with Drew, he always found himself pushed further to the side the more people they were hanging out with. Ryan didn't need to be the centre of attention all the time but that bullshit outside was not setting a very good tone, and the DJ - who he assumed he'd have something to talk about with - was just downright insufferable. He got in line outside the bathroom and wondered if he should even bother waiting.

Drew meanwhile nodded towards the door. “What the hell is up Corey's ass?”

Cassidy shrugged and flipped his hand dismissively. “We have a history.”

“Professionally,” Adam quickly specified.

Drew shook his head. “Nah he was being an asshole before you got here. What the hell’s his problem with Ryan?”

“Oh my god, how do you know Corey?” Cassidy asked, touching Jamie's chest.

“He had a design contract with my old firm,” Jamie shrugged. “I didn't realize he was into… y'know, the other stuff.”

“The other stuff,” Cassidy snicked to Adam.

Drew stepped between them. “Sorry, we got sidelined with drama. I assume we've already mutually deduced that I'm Drew and you're Adam.” He stuck out his hand.

Adam took it with a smile. “It's true.”

“Can I also assume you're not usually so buff?” Drew asked with a wink.

Adam chuckled. “Also true.”

“Either of you want some bonus size for the night?” asked Cassidy.

Jamie and Drew exchanged glances. “Aaaaah,” Jamie groaned. “I feel like Corey's gonna have something to say about that.”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, what DOESN'T he have something to say about?”

Drew shuddered as he felt his Modest Mouse T-shirt tighten around a swelling pair of pecs. He waved his hands. “That's good, that's good!” he protested. “That's enough!”

Cassidy shrugged. “Whatever you say, man.” He winked again.

Drew moaned as his cock began to expand, looking down past his prodigious chest as his bulge inflated like someone had stuck a balloon in his jeans. “F-fuck!”

“Cass,” Adam put a hand on his husband's shoulder. “He said stop.”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, guys, it's Pride, live a little.”

Jamie shrugged with a smile. “I'm not complaining.”

“Look it's fine, but Ryan's going to notice if you do anything else,” Drew protested.

Adam sighed, hugging Cassidy closer. “He's drunk. Don't mind him.”

“Oh don't be… such… a…” Cassidy blinked and groaned. “I don't… argh!” he squeezed the bridge of his nose and swayed on his feet.

Adam steadied his shoulder. “Dude! That's enough!”

Drew reached out cautiously. “Holy shit… is that normal?”

“No, not…” Adam sighed. “I mean it used to tire him out but nothing like this.”

Cassidy shook his head. “I'm fine. It's not that. It's…” he raised his head and looked inside. “I don't know…”

Jamie stepped out of a way of a bench that was built into the temporary wall. “Here, sit down.”

“I'm fine, seriously,” Cassidy assured them. “It was only for a second. I'm fine.”

“Shit,” Drew looked up from his phone. “Ryan's gone home.”

“What the fuck?” Jamie leaned in closer to him and glanced at the message. “Too drunk? Bullshit.”

“I agree, but…” Drew shrugged, “can you blame him? First Corey and then all of us were being assholes.”

“Oh please,” Cassidy rolled his eyes. “That guy always such a drama queen?”

“Yep,” Jamie quipped.

Drew shot him a frown and smacked him lightly in the stomach. “Don't be a dick. He gets really self-conscious at Pride.”

“Well since he's not around,” Cassidy shrugged. Drew gasped as his arms thickened up to stretch his sleeves, and he inched taller to match heights with Adam, the only guy there taller than him.

Adam shook Cassidy by the shoulder. “Cass, seriously! Look at what just happened.”

“Oh my god, you need to calm down,” Cassidy shook his hand off. “I told you it wasn't that.”

Jamie tickled the six-pack that was peeking out from under Drew's shirt and looked up at him. “Man… y'know I love the standard model, D, but the deluxe...” he sucked his teeth and shook his head with a moan.

A couple of dark-skinned twinks came outside, eyeing them all up and down as they passed between the two couples. Corey followed them out, fiddling another cigarette from his pack. He paused mid-light when he caught sight of Drew, and shook his head as he took his first pull, turning to Cassidy. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hissed.

“Wow, giving me shit is seriously trending,” Cassidy rolled his eyes and then nodded at Corey’s pack of smokes. “Hey can I grab one of those?”

Corey shoved them back in his pocket. “Fuck you!”

The two twinks paused lighting each other's cigarettes to glance over.

“Cor, Jesus.” Jamie stepped between them. “Calm down.”

“Shut up,” Corey snapped, angrily yanking the cigarette from his mouth and waving it around so wildly that Drew leaned back to avoid it. “You tourists can fuck right off.”

“Whoa!” Drew held up his hands and took a step back.

“I know you idiots don't give a shit,” Corey continued. “None of this means anything to you. But this is a big fucking deal to those of us with some, I dunno, responsibility.”

“Fuck, Corey,” Adam stepped in front of him. “You're making a fucking scene.”

“I'M making a scene,” Corey repeated incredulously. He stuck a finger into Adam's chest and pushed him back. “You dumb cunts think this is just some stupid toy and it's all a game.”

“Did he just say ‘cunt?’” one twink asked the other.

“‘Oh, it's Pride!’” Corey twirled his fingers. “‘There's no rules and I can do whatever I want.’ Do you have any idea what you're even doing? The kind of chance you're taking?” he glared at Cassidy. “Everything we spent years building. You're putting it all at risk for…” he gestured to Drew. “Some fucking party trick. Oh! But you're Cassidy fucking Hamilton! You're above any law! Right?”

Cassidy shrugged. “Oh my god. WHAT fucking law?”

Adam shook his head. “Cass, let's go somewhere else.”

“Yeah might as well,” Corey spat. “I mean why keep this shit confined to a single bar?”

Adam took Cassidy's elbow and hoisted him to his feet, leading him back inside. “You're such a fucking asshole,” Cassidy mumbled at Corey as Adam ushered him through the door.

Jamie and Drew exchanged glances. Corey flicked ash from his cigarette and took a long drag, glaring at them. “So what, you're leaving now too?”

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhh…”

“I’m just gonna make a unilateral decision here,” Drew opened the door and gestured for Jamie to go through it. Corey looked at him expectantly, and Jamie shrugged and went back inside. Drew followed, stopping halfway through the door. “Y’know, Corey…”

Corey raised his hand to Drew’s face. “Know what, before you gimme some rant about your wordy little opinion let me just remind you that you have no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to…”

“All right fine!” Drew happily agreed. “I’m not… whatever the hell you people are. Here’s what I do know: you were a total dick to my friend for absolutely no reason; you told Jamie to ‘fuck right off;’ you just gave me THE HAND; and your set? Was fucking awful.” He rolled his eyes. “Try listening to something you didn’t hear about on Popcrush.”

“Fuckin pretentious hipster bitch,” Corey mumbled at Drew as he went back inside. He took another drag, and caught the two twinks staring at him. “What?”

***

Nate stumbled out of WAYLA in a daze, leaning against the wall for support. He stood there catching his breath while the bouncer hassled him, telling he’d call the cops if he vomited there. The bouncer was totally lying about that and was mostly asking himself if he’d have to clean it up. But Nate didn’t want to hear about all that. He tried to block it out, shook his head, didn’t bother to explain he wasn’t even drunk, and waved dismissively as he got himself upright and walking at a fairly consistent pace, though it took a lot of effort. People were all over the street, though, and kept looking at him. It only took a couple of quick surface reads to determine they were looking at a nosebleed he didn't realize he had.

He took a real estate flyer out from a row of free newspaper stands and ducked up the next dimly lit residential street, using the paper to clean up most of the blood but it only smeared it around.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, pulling off his shirt.

Already he was walking steadier and thinking clearer, but he had gone very deep on some very loaded memories. It had actually hurt him - Cassidy too, from the look of it. It was so much, and it came so fast. Nate wasn't sure he had even gotten everything he needed but he couldn't risk a second probe. It had frightened him a bit.

Now though, he saw everything laid out in perfect order like a finely detailed manual. It was all there. The early tries, the first success. His memories of Adam, of Tahar, of Butch. He knew all of it; more than he had expected. The question now: was it enough?

Nate wet his shirt in the birdbath nestled in someone's garishly ornate front garden and cleaned the remaining blood, already getting tacky, from his hands and face. He lit up a cigarette and threw the damp shirt over his neck. He glanced at the cigarette in his hand and saw he was shaking. He was jittery with excitement. He decided he couldn’t wait any longer, but still didn’t want to risk being seen, and though the streets were pretty much deserted he still sensed minds in most of the houses. He kept his eyes open and turned down a short side street, finding a small laneway that served as a shared backdoor driveway for several houses. At the far end was a small walkway to what must have been Dundas Street, mostly obscured by trees and foliage. He grinned, did a quick survey for pedestrians, discarded his half-done cigarette, and darted down the laneway.

Dude, calm down, Nate thought to himself. Might not even work. Don’t lose focus. Now that the moment was finally upon him, Nate hesitated. What if it didn’t work? It would be back to square one. What if he fucked up? It was his first time after all. What if he didn’t know what he was doing and turned himself into the elephant man or something?

Fuck it. Playing it safe had never been Nate’s strong suit. Shoot first, clean up the cum later, he thought.

He closed his eyes, let his mind wander through Cassidy’s memories, settled on the one he was looking for. It was difficult. The education Sofia had given him helped him piece it all together in a way that made sense to him, but it took him some time before he felt these energies moving through his body, and longer still before he felt confident enough to compel them.

He did it slowly and delicately at first. It was like goading a cat out from under the bed. The butterflies he’d been feeling fluttering around his stomach seemed to escape and began flitting through his whole body. Everything was charged, a loaded chamber ready to fire.

He reached down and quickly pulled the straps of his sandals open as he felt his feet beginning to expand. Holy fuck it was working. He couldn’t see them in the dark but he felt his feet stretching over the edge of his sandals, getting three, maybe four sizes bigger. He wanted to flip out right then but that was only the beginning. The leaves brushed his bare shoulders as his legs elongated, raising him taller. He stifled a giggle as he felt his arms - left then right - stretch lower. He teased his shorts with his fingers until he was reaching past the hem. He brought one hand up to his face and felt his elbow with the other. A shiver ran up his spine as it popped longer to match his extremities. One final stretch of his neck brought him up to relative proportion, and even in the dark he could tell he must look like some gangly alien. It was time to pack on the pounds.

It felt like warm, fleshy socks were being unrolled up his legs as his calves, then his thighs swelled with thick, warm muscle, sliding along his bones and squelching against each other as they fought for space beneath his skin. Nate put his hand to his thigh to feel his shorts grow tighter and tighter around his legs, his pack of smokes nearly flattened against him.

He reflexively took a deep breath in anticipation of his swelling chest, pecs heaving into thick, heavy slabs. Things had begun to get a bit congested in the overgrown walkway, and now leaves and branches presses against him as he grew into what had been empty space only minutes earlier. His back flared wide, thickened with brawn, his shoulders pumped into hard globes and cords of muscle snaked down from them, wrapping his arms in power till they were pipes. He raised them to flex and hit the leaves, rustling them loudly. He instead contented himself with feeling how big he'd become, tracing the lines of his triceps as his arms swelled.

Finally, as his neck thickened into a pillar supported by a hard set of traps, Nate surmised he was finished. Fuck he felt so amazing. So tall and heavy. He wished he had a mirror but that would have to wait. He thought about upsizing his cock a bit but his shorts were tight enough as it was and he still had a long way to go to get back to the Village, where he couldn't wait to really go to town. But where?

Nate grinned. The answer was so obvious he was surprised he'd even had to ask himself.

He was about to emerge from the pathway when he stopped. As different as he must look right now, anyone who knew his face would find it impossible to ignore. His momentary concern melted into an even wider grin. He decided to take a page out of Cassidy's book.

His smiling face grew dark with stubble that quickly became a full-on beard, and his near-bald buzzcut bristled up into a messy shag. It was a bit sloppy but he suspected the rest of the package made up for it. He reached up and felt his thick beard.

“Fuck,” he giggled softly to himself. “So fuckin cool!”

He ducked under a branch and, walking a bit awkwardly on too-small sandals, exited the walkway a foot taller than when he'd walked in.

[Maximilian]

Part 10: Nate

Act IV: Steamworks

 

“You're so drunk.”

Ayush raised his head, groaned, blinked through his glasses. “What?”

“Fuck,” Matt chuckled. He paused to turn the phone sideways and took a photo.

The flash snapped Ayush back to reality. He stood up. “Hey!” he swayed on his feet. “Don't fuckin… do NOT post that.”

“Does snapchat count as posting?”

“Huh?” Ayush sighed as he felt his gut tied up in knots. “Yeah.”

“Welp,” Matt shrugged. “Too late.”

Ayush groaned. “I'm getting a hot dog.”

“You just ate one,” Matt reminded him.

“I'm getting another one.”

Having to count his change seemed to sober him up some, and the sausage helped too. He shouldn't have drank so much on a gym day; it hit him way too hard.

“Might be time to call it, Ayush,” Matt suggested as they walked down Church Street. The daytime crowds had dispersed but there was still a lot of people out for this time of night, and a constant din of noise.

Ayush wiped mustard off his hands and tossed his napkin in a trash can. “No way, man. It's not even that late.”

Matt shrugged. “Well you do what you want, man, but I'm drunk as shit and I'm goin home.”

“Oh c’mon,” Ayush drooped his shoulders. “It's Pride.”

Matt chuckled. “Well until they make it a stat holiday, it's just another week in the year, bro.” Ayush rolled his eyes and Matt threw his thick arm around his shoulders. “Look the night is… well it's not over yet. You should go out on your own.”

“Everyone's gonna think I'm a total loser,” Ayush whined.

“Oh fuck off,” Matt snapped. “No one's gonna give a shit.”

They had come to Wellesley so Matt turned at the intersection. He gave Ayush a friendly peck on the cheek before letting go of him and making his way to the subway. “Tell me all about it tomorrow!” he called.

Ayush waved, then put his hands in his pockets and glanced down the street. Well now what?

He meandered north a few steps before he turned about and meandered south. He checked his phone, and considered seeing what Brent was up to but he had gotten the impression that Brent seemed to think he was popular and cool, and was hesitant to give him evidence to the contrary.

Fuck. Maybe he should just go home too. But he came all the way down to the Village and barely got a sidelong glance. He hadn't had sex since exams were up and all the freshmen moved back home. He was on Scruff and Grindr and a few other hookup apps but hadn't had much luck. The local gays didn't seem very into brown guys.

But Ayush was resilient, and believed with conviction that even if the right guy wasn't banging down his door (so to speak), he was still perfectly comfortable with the odd quick dirty fuck to… just keep everything circulating, or whatever. He was a bit deterred by some bad experiences - including lacklustre reactions to his tragically undersized dick - but he tried not to dwell on stuff like that.

Ayush went to put his phone away but changed his mind and went to check to see if anything was going on at Crew's and Tango but he dropped his phone and swore as he stopped to pick it up. The battery compartment had popped open and he snapped it back into place. It looked otherwise undamaged. He dusted it off and looked up.

“Oh.”

He was looking right at the front door to the Steamworks bathhouse, tucked behind a restaurant on a short service road to the nearby hospital. He'd never been but always wanted to go. As he watched he saw a young couple approaching, one dragging his protesting friend. Loud frenetic dance music blasted out the door as they opened it and stood aside for the tall hunky blonde that exited, trying in vain to button up a way-too-tight shirt over his bulging pecs.

“The fuck?” Ayush heard him mutter as he passed.

Ayush shrugged. The crowd seemed pretty hot and he was just drunk enough to not give a shit if it turned out to be a bust.

There were people everywhere, and a constant background buzz of murmured conversation, spiked with the occasional impish giggle or coital moan. Ayush paid for keys and a towel and walked back to the lockers like he did it all the time. The air was thickly humid and Ayush felt himself sweating even as he took off his clothes. There were all kinds of guys around, some aggressively flirting, others playing it more casually, and a few other lost sheep, with whom he sympathized but figured grouping up with was counter-productive. Ayush wasn't totally sure where to begin or how it all worked. Like, do you just find a guy you like and ask him what he's into? Do you have to choose top or bottom? Is there some sort of formality or should he just let instinct take over? Given his blood-alcohol level he had assumed overthinking things wasn't going to be a problem but, well, there he was.

Ayush took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He decided if he took too long trying to figure it all out he'd just end up chickening out. So he kept his jockeys on, wrapped his waist in a towel, and walked out of the locker room into the halls.

He didn't have to go far before he found a man who met his criteria, which were A - he's hot and B - standing by himself. It looked like he had just come out of the shower; his hair was wet and beads of water glistened all over his body, which was pretty fit. In fact, most of the guys there were in surprisingly good shape. Ayush had an alright physique but felt a tad intimidated. Was it always like this or did the clientele average hotter at Pride? This guy was Asian - he more specifically guessed Korean - and his hair was cut short on the side and longer on top, in some disarray from probably the shower. He was relatively short but still taller than Ayush. He was leaning against the wall sleepily, occasionally dipping his hand under the wet towel tied about his waist to adjust his junk.

Ayush bit his lip, cleared his throat, and strode up to him. The (possible) Korean saw him coming, and turned to look at him.

And then, out of fucking nowhere, this dumb white jock with a buzzcut and a chinstrap beard sprinted up to him so fast he had to hop to halt himself before just slamming right into him. The white guy was waving his hand in front of his washboard abs.

“Sung! Fucking look at this!”

The Korean paused for a moment before shrugging and shaking his head.

“Dude, I did NOT have abs like this when I came in here,” chinstrap shook his head vehemently.

The Korean, who Ayush assumed was named Sung, rolled his eyes. “Oh whatever. You had lots of abs,” he said with a modest accent. Ayush was at this point just a few feet away from them, had stopped, and was trying to look like he hadn’t been intently approaching him.

Chinstrap looked flabbergasted. “Are you fuckin’ cray? I had, like… I dunno, bumps but dude…” he stepped closer to him. “Check out this business!”

Sung pushed him back with a sneer of revulsion. “Ugh…what wrong with you? You smell like cum.”

“Dude…” Chinstrap seemed to notice Sung for the first time. “You look fuckin swole.” He reached out and gripped his shoulder. “You're definitely bigger than you were earlier, bro.”

Sung brushed the hand away. “Oh shut up. You on drugs.”

“Legit, bro!” Chinstrap insisted, but Sung had already turned away, only to find Ayush awkwardly blocking his path.

“Uhh…” now's your chance, Ayush! “Do you guys… know… which way the, uhh… saunas are?” God dammit.

Sung pointed in some direction with his thumb and then shouldered past Ayush.

Chinstrap took over Sung’s spot against the wall. “Sup,” he nodded at Ayush with a smirk as he ran a hand down his abs.

Ayush returned the nod, mumbled “Hey” and then left down another hall.

He meandered past the private rooms which sounded pretty lively even behind closed doors. He eventually did find the saunas but found them a bit too crowded for his taste, with guys milling around outside waiting for some space to free up. He turned around to make his way back to the gym and slammed into what looked like a man but felt like a brick wall. His glasses clattered to the floor.

“Sorry, man,” the brick wall rumbled. “I got it,” he stopped Ayush from bending over and scooped the glasses from the floor, handing them back to Ayush.

“Thanks; sorry,” Ayush muttered as he put his glasses back on, allowing him an unobscured view of the guy. He was huge. Six-foot-four at least, and bulging with brawn. He had a light dusting of dark hair over his meaty pecs and a big beard and messy tousled hair. There was something strangely… recognizable about him. Ayush almost wanted to ask if they knew each other but there was no way he had met this guy and forgotten about it. Still, something in his face, and the way he carried himself...

“Hey, wanna come with?” he winked down at him. Even that wink seemed so familiar, and that accent. It was some kind of American but Ayush could never sort them all out.

“Uhh…” said Ayush.

The big guy chuckled. “Aww yeah you do,” and he took him by the shoulder and turned him around.

Ayush found himself being pushed through the throngs, a bit bewildered but finding nothing to object to. He normally wasn't really into big guys but this guy was so gigantic it was strangely mesmerising. Ayush wasn't alone. Guys were staring wideyed as they passed, and he heard awed whispers from the crowd.

“Fuck that guy is huge…”

“Dayum!”

“Oh my god that kid's totally gonna get split in half.”

Ayush began to feel a bit uneasy both with all the attention from the crowd and about the prospect of being manhandled by this guy nearly twice his size.

His new friend leaned down. “Don’ worry man. ‘S gonna be all about you tonight.”

Ayush found he had been paraded to an apparent destination. The confessional booths.

There was a bunch of guys milling around in front of them but there didn't seem to be a specific line, and if there was, they cut it. Two guys stumbled giggling from one side of the booth while a third sauntered smugly out of the other. Ayush was gently pushed into the one the couple had vacated and the big guy maneuvered himself into the other.

Ayush shut the door behind him. The booth was pretty small and smelled of sweat and sex. He was amazed his new friend even fit inside it.

The screen snapped open and he heard the big guy chuckling on the other side, though in the dark it was hard to make anything out.

“Hey man. Gimme some of that dick. ‘ll make your night for sure.”

“Huh?” Ayush unwrapped his towel and looked around bewildered. He had thought the booths were for role-playing considering the wall between them.

His friend stuck two fingers through a glory hole Ayush hadn't noticed before. He curled them in a beckoning motion, laughing.

Ayush felt his face heating up. “I'm not… I don't really know if…” the thought of this guy laughing at his cock in this crowded bathhouse made Ayush suddenly very claustrophobic.

There was rustling on the other side as the big guy repositioned himself so his face was framed in the screen. “Don' worry. ‘S all good, man. Gotta trust me.”

Ayush did trust him, even though it made no sense. Maybe it was the drink, the almost tangible cloud of lust that seemed to hang in the air in this place, or the impossible-to-shake feeling that he knew this guy already, but he did trust him. Still nervous, he slipped out of his underwear, finding himself already hard, and after giving his cock a couple of quick strokes to ensure it hadn't retained any lint from his underwear, he took a deep breath, and guided it into the hole, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for… well, whatever.

“Yum,” the big guy grumbled from the other side, a hint of mirth in his voice but one thay had been there from the start. Ayush gasped and then giggled as he felt big fingers tracing the length of his four inch shaft and then gently shaking it up and down. He wanted to say something clever and self-deprecating but also convey that he didn't think it was a big deal, but before his drunken brain could piece that puzzle together he felt a brief blanket of hot breath wash over his cock and then the big guy took him in his mouth.

Ayush braced his hand on the edge of the screen. “Oh fuck!” he grunted. The guy was definitely giving it his all, his big fat tongue clumsily lumbering around his cock, sucking so hard Ayush almost thought he'd rip it off. Ayush felt lightness in his guts and a haze on his brain as his cock throbbed in the mouth of his new friend. It was amazing. Whatever this guy was doing, it was totally unprecedented, giving Ayush the feeling that his cock was filling his mouth, going deeper down his throat. Ayush’s eyes widened and he moaned loudly as these sensations became even more intense. He hoped the big guy would be willing to give him some pointers, because he was a blowjob savant.

It got to the point where Ayush almost wanted to shout at him to stop. His cock felt so sensitive, like he'd been edging for fifteen minutes but it just kept going and going. He kept wanting to warn his new friend he was about to cum but it was one false alarm after the other and the intensity just kept building and building so much that Ayush became half-convinced he'd been drugged.

When finally he did cum, he felt like he was blasting through a brick wall, screaming “Holy fuck!” at a louder-than-appropriate volume but too wrapped up in both the intensity and the duration of his orgasm to check himself. It was electric all through his body.

His new, big, very talented friend had his mouth clamped over Ayush's cock the whole time, and as the torrent subsided, he gulped down the last mouthful and lifted off it. Ayush heard rustling on the other side, and figured they should probably free it up for the next couple. Ayush pulled his cock out of the glory hole… and out and out and out.

“What…” Ayush looked down and although it was dark he could still make out the shape withdrawing from the hole in the wall. He closed his eyes, assured himself he was drunk, and checked again. Finally the tip slid out and it flopped down, slapping against his thighs, and he actually jumped a little bit as he felt it hitting far further down his leg than ever before. It was huge. He reached down and felt his hand close around it. He felt down the length of it and clasped the head with a shudder. It was hard to tell as it had already started to go soft but if had to ballpark it he'd have guessed it was a foot long - three times as big as when he walked in the booth. It was thick too, and felt heavy hanging from his crotch. He swayed his hips and felt it swing back and forth, careening into one leg and then the other. He put a hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle. It was so impossible but it felt so real.

A staccato rapping on the door made him gasp in surprise. “Hey it's not a solo booth, princess,” came a reedy, bitchy voice. “Your friend's long gone and there's a line… oh, which you cut, by the way.”

“Oh, uhh… yeah be right out,” Ayush called back. He felt around in the dark for his underwear, stuffed his new cock uncomfortably into it, then grabbed his towel and quickly exited the booth, avoiding the eye contact of the guy tapping his foot impatiently outside.

His strangled junk only served to sell the point more convincingly. That had just happened. His cock had gone from tiger shrimp to tiger shark. He looked around for the big guy who he knew was somehow responsible. “I'll make your night for sure,” he'd said.

Ayush looked around at the throngs of men crowding the bathhouse and realized that his night was far from over. He looked down as his massive bulge that showed even through the towel, and smiled to himself. It WAS going to be a good night.

"Happy Pride," he muttered to himself, and sauntered off into the sea of men.

[Maximilian]

Part 10: Nate

Epilogue

 

Not a cloud in the sky. He couldn't have asked for better weather. The beach was empty. He had the whole ocean to himself.  Cesar and Angelica must have been around somewhere but it was nice to be alone for now. Where had they gone? He couldn't remember. Had they even come with him? It didn't matter. He was content to soak up some rays, maybe get some of his tan back. The Canadian climate had made him so pale. His family always thought he was sick whenever he Skyped them.

There was a whimpering sound, though. He wasn't alone after all. He looked around. It sounded like a wounded animal. He turned around and he saw it. A dog, its legs and tail cut off, ragged stumps shuddering, struggling to crawl, its tongue hanging out of its mouth, softly whining as its blood pooled around it in the sand.

Rodrigo awoke with a start. He had shucked off his ratty blanket, such as it was, leaving him naked on the fleece carpet. It was too dark to see anything, really, but he was able to orient himself by the soft outline of moonlight coming it around the blind. There was still the whimpering, and in his dazed half-sleep he thought maybe the mangled dog had followed him out from his dream. But he could identify it as human, now, and he crawled over the source.

He was crying in his sleep again. He had his arms tight to his chest, legs curled up, his blanket had nearly slipped off too. Roddy found it, drew it up around his shoulders. Roddy lay down beside him, rubbed his back and hushed him.

“It's okay, Blake,” he cooed quietly. “Everything's going to be all right.”

[spacevlad]

WOW! So much good stuff. Great twist with Nate getting new powers. I can't wait for him and Brent to meet up...

[Thespispunk88]

Hoooooly shit. I just stumbled on this today and I freakin' love it! Your way with words and the ability to build up characters. I really can not wait to see where this is going. Supremely good work, man. 

[Maximilian]

Sorry for the delay but Part 11 is finished and will be posted in a couple of days. 12 will not be far behind.