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Would be fun if they wouldn't completely go back to normal. x3 But yeah, a great part 2. ^^


Yeah, that's what I was thinking:  That they return to not quite their normal size, retaining some of the temporary gains.

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Thanks for reading, guys, and I appreciate all the feedback I've gotten. The temporary nature of these transformations is actually a point that factors heavily into the plot.

Just a note to readers, this chapter doesn't have any growth of any kind. Aside from, like, regular boners.



Part 3: Drew


Drew sighed, and switched his phone from one ear to the other. “Because that was a promotional rate, Leon. From two years ago. The market’s totally different now.”

“Sabine said this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, when you were renewing your first mortgage. On a new property we can’t give you the same rate.”

There was a knock at his office door and he saw Ryan standing there, some folders under his arm. Drew held up his finger, mouthing “one sec.”

“I just don’t understand why you can apply the rate to one mortgage but not the other,” Leon complained gruffly. “Your branch manager gave you special dispensation for the one, why can’t we get the second?”

Ryan shuffled inside and sat down across from Drew.

“Leon, look, for one thing, it was the district manager, and for another, the situation is different on a new mortgage than a REnewed one.”

Leon paused with a sigh. “Can you get Sabine to call me?”

Drew bit his tongue to keep from swearing. “Sabine’s at a different branch now. But she’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Drew, I’m sorry I really need to get going. Just get Sabine to give me a call, please.”

He shook his head ruefully at Ryan, who shrugged with a blank smile. “All right, Leon, have a good day.” It sounded like he had already hung up before Drew could finish his sentence. He turned to Ryan as he set down the receiver. “What’s up?”

“You wanna grab a beer after work?”

Drew shook his head. “Nah, can’t. I gotta make dinner.”

Ryan set his files on Drew’s desk. “Isn’t Jamie still unemployed? Why isn’t he doing it?”

Drew sighed. “It’s my turn. And, wait, I thought you had a date tonight. Didn’t you say you were meeting that guy off Grindr?”

“OKCupid, thank you very much,” said Ryan with mock indignance. “And yeah, but not til nine. Was hoping to get a bit of a buzz on so I won’t be so nervous. He’s totally out of my league.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, Ryan, you have nothing to worry about. Jesus.” Ryan had taken the best elements of both his Chinese and Russian heritage which had resulted in bright eyes, dark hair, a strong chin and a great complexion. Despite being a certifiable stud, he seemed to view his unique features as some kind of brand of deviance, and nothing Drew or anyone could say had yet to convince him otherwise.

Ryan shrugged, standing and collecting his files. “If you say so. Oh, the actual reason I came: do you have any credit files for Sal Burchielli?”

Drew nodded, opening his credenza. He stopped as he pulled them out. “Wait what do you need them for?”

“Transfer request."

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Drew shouted. “Let me see it.” He thrust his hand out so quickly Ryan instinctively recoiled.

“Whoa! Hey! Jesus…” Ryan pulled the memo out from between the files and handed it to him. “It’s from Sabine.”

“I fucking know it’s from Sabine!” Drew jumped to his feet, brushing past a bewildered Ryan. “Is Viola in her office?” he asked as he stormed out.

Ryan called after him. “How the hell would I know?”

It had been an uphill battle after Sabine had been transferred but this was the last straw. Drew managed to stay smiling and pleasant as he crossed the branch in front of customers, but by the time he climbed the stairs to the manager’s office, he was freaking out again. He knocked on her door as he barged in.

Viola looked up from a plate of Greek salad, swallowing a mouthful before retorting. “Sure, Drew, come on in.” She sat up and wiped her mouth on a napkin.

“Have you fucking seen this?” he asked, shoving the memo over top her salad.

Viola took it from him and looked it over. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Everything?”

“A half-million dollar mortgage, a two hundred thou TFSA and two RESPs,” he rhymed them off from memory. “You promised me this wouldn’t happen!” he protested.

Viola furrowed her brow. “Don’t yell at me about it. Lose your shit on Sabine.”

Drew ignored her. “And we just lost all the Webster accounts to downtown on Monday. Can’t we just deny them?”

She set the memo down on her desk between them. “These are customer-initiated, Drew.”

Drew crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, please.”

“What do you expect me to do, exactly?”

“Call the manager at Dufferin and College, tell him they can’t keep doing this.”

Viola stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork. “What’s he gonna say? He’s not going to blast Sabine for getting them more business.”

“Viola, I can’t make my goals if all my biggest clients transfer to downtown. Burchielli was like a quarter of my IP’s.”

Viola picked up the memo again and paused a moment. “This is the racist guy?”

Drew shrugged ruefully. “Yeah… plus he smells like talcum powder and cigarettes.”

Viola handed it back to him. “Drew I get that you’re frustrated. So am I, okay? And I’m taking this into account. But there’s nothing I can do about Burchielli, or Webster, or all the rest. You’ll have to make it up somewhere else.”

Drew sighed, took the memo back, and left.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fucking Sabine. She got transferred from this nowhere-branch in the financial desert of North York to downtown where business literally walked in off the street every day. She didn’t need to poach all the old clients they had shared. Fuck. It has been so sweet when she was around. The Drew-Sabine dream team. She handled mortgages, he handled investments, they had this sassy back-and-forth the clients seemed to love, and the numbers just kept climbing. Now she’d been replaced with a do-nothing trainee, making Drew the most senior mortgage expert at the branch. He fucking hated mortgages.

Drew walked past the teller line to the back office, where he found Ryan at his desk and on the phone.

“Okay….wait, what? That’s not the ticket number I gave you… I don’t know, but you didn’t get it from… No. Okay, are you ready? Five one eight nine seven seven three nine… Seriously? Why would it be closed no one ever came in….Yes! I’m sure! Our printer is still broken!” He looked at Drew and rolled his eyes. “Okay, so can you open it up again?... Then can you start a new ticket?... Okay great… When?... Seriously?... Ok fine…. Great. Yes. Thanks. Bye…. Yeah, bye.” He hung up and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Jesus fucking christ.” Drew handed him the memo and he set it on the stack of files. “No luck, eh? Is Sal really that big a deal?”

Drew leaned against a filing cabinet. “I’m so fucked, man.”

Ryan shook his head. “When did Sabine turn into such an asshole? I always thought she was cool when she was here.”

Drew sighed. “I dunno. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure you don’t want that drink, man?”

Drew dashed a blonde lock from his eyes. “Nah…” he checked the time on Ryan’s phone. “Actually I should get going. See ya tomorrow. Good luck tonight.”

Ryan smiled. “Thanks, man.”

Drew’s numbers had divebombed since Sabine left. Viola was reasonable enough, but she had district managers to answer to and if he couldn’t figure something out in the next few months he could be facing a demotion. At any other point in his life this wouldn’t be a big deal, but he and Jamie had just blown all their savings buying a condo, and now Jamie had quit his job of his own accord, which meant he couldn’t go on employment insurance. Drew loved that Jamie had stuck to his principles but his timing was terrible. If he did get a pay cut without Jamie bringing in income, they’d have to mortgage the condo just to pay for the property tax, and the current market was terrible. Even at employee rates he’d get fucked. Maybe they could sell the car instead.

The hour long commute from bus to subway to streetcar home was made longer by some dumb bullshit. The announcer piped into the subway’s PA to give the riders details, but Drew tuned it out, distracting himself with Temple Run soundtracked to Portishead.

After riding the elevator crammed with neighbours returning home, Drew dragged his feet down his hall and opened his door to the welcoming scent of roasting chicken and veggies.

“Jamie?” he called, kicking off his shoes.

“Hey D!” Jamie called back. “In the kitchen!”

Drew shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and walked into the kitchen loosening his tie. Jamie had two pans going over the stove, stirring the one full of rice. He was wearing a button up shirt worn open over a graphic T. His favourite, faded black, worn-out jeans and bare feet. His black hair was damp and messy, suggesting he’d just showered. He turned and smiled warmly. “Hey. Chicken fajitas.”

“Oh,” Drew moaned affectionately, throwing his tie onto the table as he went up to hug Jamie from behind. Half a head taller than him, Drew had to lean down to kiss his neck, smelling shampoo he’d used. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jamie sighed contentedly in his arms, leaning back against him. “Yeah I know, but I was home and everything was good to go. I’m sorry I left you alone last night. What’d you do?”

Drew gave him another kiss to the back of the head and released Jamie, unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way to the bedroom. “I went to Chalkers with Ryan and some other guys from the branch. We didn’t go too late.”

“Is he still going out with that, uhh… that hot Indian guy?”

“Nah that didn’t last too long. He’s having a first date tonight, actually.” Drew returned to the kitchen in a snug-fitting tank and slacks. He stopped at Jamie, turned his head to kiss him, then went to the cupboard and took down two wine glasses. “Hey how was Adam’s? How’s his boyfriend?”

“Husband,” Jamie corrected. “Cassidy. He’s, uhh… good, I guess. He’s changed completely.”

“He was the weirdo, right?” asked Drew, squatting down to get a bottle of merlot from the rack.

“Yeah. Well,” Jamie hesitated, “he’s still a weirdo but he’s been totally domesticated. I barely recognized him.”

Drew rounded the counter and set a glass of wine next to the stove, sipping his own. “And Adam? You said you were worried.”

“Uhh, yeah,” Jamie answered slowly. “Look, that’s kind of a long story…”

“Oh,” Drew blinked. “Okay.” he turned and grabbed his tie off the table, tossing it through the bedroom door as he made his way to the living room. It wasn’t like Jamie to deflect him like that. With their arrangement, it’s not like he could have anything to lie about, though. Oprah dozed on the couch watching W on mute. Drew sighed loudly. “What the fuck are you doing watching Property Brothers?” he shouted back at the kitchen.

“What? It’s fine it’s got a bunch of ideas. Like, for the living room?”

“Oh my god,” Drew turned off the television. “Who are you trying to kid?”

The fajitas were perfect. The wine was all right. Drew spent most of dinner complaining about Sabine, Viola, and mortgages. Drew tended to get pretty technical with his rants about work, and it wasn’t entirely uncommon for Jamie to tune out on the finer details, but he seemed to be barely listening at all.

“Hey is everything okay?” Drew asked after a prolonged silence. “You seem a bit… preoccupied.”

Jamie had a strange look on his face for a moment that Drew didn’t know how to read. He seemed almost confused. It melted into an apologetic smile. “Sorry, babe, I just… it’s just looking for jobs and stuff.”

“Oh,” Drew looked down at his empty plate. He had supported Jamie’s decision to quit right from the get-go, and if being unemployed had Jamie down Drew didn’t want him to feel worse about it.

After they cleared the table Drew started affectionately fondling Jamie by the sink, and they rolled along the wall, kissing each other and getting their hands under each other's shirts as they guided each other into the bedroom. Drew closed the door behind them, wary as always of what he interpreted as puritanically condemning glares from Oprah.

“God, I was so horny last night,” he breathed, quickly stripping the shirt from Jamie. Jamie smiled and tried to return the favour but Drew pushed him back onto the bed. Jamie bounced into a half-sitting position and undid his belt, squirming out of his jeans while Drew slipped out of his own clothes. Jamie barely had time to back himself up to the headboard before Drew had lunged onto the bed, crawling on top of him, cupping his face with his hand and kissing him hungrily.

“Missed me, huh?” Jamie asked with a grin when Drew finally came up for air.

Drew smiled back, “I miss you whenever I’m not looking right at you.”

“So when we’re watching a movie and I go get you a beer?”

“I die. Every time. It’s fucking Sophie’s Choice.”

Jamie laughed, pulling Drew down on top of him and twirling them around so he was on top. He moaned and slowly undulated his body against Drew’s, feeling his soft belly and tasting his salty skin as he kissed his neck, lashing his tongue behind his ear. Drew dug his heels into the mattress and gasped with pleasure, clawing his fingertips into Jamie's back.

Jamie pulled back and maneuvered one of Drew’s legs to the side, pausing briefly to grab the lube off the nightstand and apply a thick glob to his palm. He took Drew’s erect penis in his hand and covered his own as well. Drew grasped Jamie’s ass and pulled him close, writhing against the bed, biting his lip as he felt Jamie press his tip against him, then slowly enter, grinding his hips against Drew’s, forcing his dick deeper inch by inch.

“Oh fuck…” Drew whispered, his head reared back against the pillow. “I love your cock so fucking much.”

Jamie faltered, losing the rhythm. Just long enough for Drew to look at him quizzically, and then he was back on track. Drew got back to groaning and flexing his cheeks around Jamie’s cock. He grew louder as Jamie quickened his strokes, and he grunted a loud sensuous cry as he climaxed, shooting a load that splattered hot on his chest. He moaned and flexed his ass again, only for Jamie to withdraw. He lay there basking in post-coital bliss, waiting for Jamie to plunge in again, but instead felt him toweling off his chest. Drew opened his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly. “You didn’t…”

Jamie smiled gently, kissing Drew on the forehead as he tossed the towel into the hamper. “It’s fine. I’m just really tired.”

“You’re sure?”

Jamie rolled into place beside Drew, taking his hand in his and squirming up next to him, his chin resting on his shoulder. “Don’t worry.” He smiled reassuringly.

Drew turned to look at him, their mouths close enough to feel each other’s breath. Drew reached up and ran his fingers down the side of Jamie’s face. “I love you.”

Jamie leaned down to peck Drew on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

“So fucking much.”

Jamie smiled. “So fucking much.”

Drew reached over and switched off the lamp, and they laid together in the dark.

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Part 4: Cassidy


Cassidy had his foot on the seat of the toilet in the half-bathroom next to the living room, clipping his toenails while Adam finished showering upstairs. He was just blowing debris off the nailclippers when Adam appeared in the doorway to say goodbye. Cassidy had come to loathe Jack Astor’s with a fiery hatred but he had to admit, their maroon, short-sleeved, button-up uniform shirts looked great on Adam, especially the way he wore it with the top few buttons left opened. Cassidy smiled.

“Keith is having some of us over after his shift for beers and games. I was gonna stay the night,” he leaned against the doorway, and shook the bangs from his eyes. “He asked if you wanted to come. You could drive out for like, one or two. I can text you when I have a better idea.”


Cassidy made a wry face. “Aww… hon I’d love to but I gotta be up kinda early. I know I’ll just get wrecked.”

“You’re sure? He finally got that new Mariokart DLC.”

Oh… that was tempting, but Cassidy couldn’t pass this up. “Sorry, I’m gonna pass. Can you tell Keith thanks? Tell him he’s a total sweetheart.”

A car horn sounded from outside. Adam chuckled as he pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step forward. “I’ll paraphrase.” He leaned down to give Cassidy a kiss. “Have a good night.” He turned and left.

“You too,” Cassidy called after him. “Have fun!”

He set the nailclippers down and dusted off his foot, sitting still and listening. He heard the jingle of keys and change as Adam slipped into his jacket. The door opened and closed, rattling the clock on the wall. Cassidy quickly stole out from the bathroom into the dining room window, staying close to the frame so he wouldn’t be spotted. Adam descended the steps from their porch and walked down the stone walkway to the tan pickup awaiting him on the curb. Adam got in, the truck pulled around the cul-de-sac and disappeared down the road. Cassidy kept watching until its taillights reappeared under the streetlight at the end of the road, and turned off.

Without bothering to put on shoes or a coat, Cassidy grabbed his keys off the wall and went outside. He got into the car and opened the garage door, watching the angry red taillights against it in the rearview mirror.

He hated being dishonest with Adam, but the truth would destroy something beautiful. To Adam, their exploratory journey into sorcery had been as revelatory for Cassidy as it had been for him. They were discovering this zany new frontier together, and even sharing in this illusion made Cassidy appreciate what he was doing all the more. But it was all becoming too much for Adam, and he didn’t want to scare him.

Cassidy backed the car into the garage, closed the door behind him, and opened one of the plastic bins they had stacked under a makeshift workbench that rarely saw any action. He pulled out a small bundle of clothes and went back into the house from the garage.

In the bedroom Cassidy took his phone from his pocket before he slipped out of his clothes. He looked at his reflection. Five-foot-six was a pretty average height but next to Adam’s six-foot-two, Cassidy felt short. Once Adam blew up to ten feet tall, Cassidy felt dwarfed, and he had always been skinny for as long as he could remember. He didn’t mind, and he knew how much Adam loved their size difference, but it would be nice to be the big man again. It had been a while.

The truth was that Cassidy had already been fairly adept at the craft before Adam had become involved. Adam’s translations had been pivotal to his studies, and had advanced him in leaps and bounds. The more he did it, the more innate his talents seemed to become. He didn't need to wave his hands, he didn't need to say the words. The night Jamie had come over, he had actually been casting spells without even meaning to. He was becoming more powerful than he had ever thought possible.

Cassidy went into the photo gallery of his phone, and found the selfie he’d use for reference. He looked at his naked body in the mirror, and smiled. He unrolled the bundle of clothes. A large black tank top billowed open and a pair of jeans flopped to the floor along with some pairs of underwear, socks, and a ball cap. Cassidy draped the tank over his soulders and pulled the jeans up over his legs. They were so ridiculously oversized he looked like a child in a giant’s clothing. He had to hold the waistband of the jeans or else they would fall to the ground. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and cleared his mind of all distractions, focusing on his breathing. He felt the energy coursing through him, intersecting with the world around him, heard it like a mess of static but focused on cutting through the noise until it keened like a struck tuning fork. He opened his eyes.

Cassidy’s smooth hairless chest began sprouting a dense carpet of dark hair. It blossomed out from his sternum, charting a treasure trail that intersected his pubes, spreading across his flat belly. His cleanshaven face grew dark with stubble before exploding into a full thick beard. His fingers curled at his side as he resisted the urge to scratch.

His whole body grew. God he loved this feeling. The pleasant ache of his bones stretching longer and thicker, blood and muscle tissue multiplying, organs jostling against each other as they expanded. It had been alarming the first time, but even now expecting these sensations they were still thrilling. He could see why Adam had become so attached to it. It was overwhelming to the point of distraction, but Cassidy forced himself not to get lost in it. If he went too far he’d have to start over and he was going to be late enough as it was. He exhaled as he finally broke six-foot-five, but at these proportions these clothes still hung off of him. Cassidy focused on his breathing. The next part was always tricky.

He heard his body gurgling as muscle and flab appeared all across his body. His shoulders widened, then his ribcage, then his hips. He looked distended and malformed until his chest swelled into hard mounds of hairy muscle before they softened under a layer of flab. His neck grew thicker as flesh ballooned along his arms and legs, first rock hard muscle before it fattened up and lost its definition. His face rounded some, gaining a few chins beneath his beard. He felt his ass push back against the seat of his pants.

His flat stomach briefly gained a six-pack before it began to inflate, first a modest paunch, to a swollen tummy, to a full-blown gut. He felt the fat flow out from his belly, melting into rolls along his side and back. His gut continued to expand, gurgling under increasing layers of fat, until finally his waist held up his pants by their seventy-inch waistline. His body had grown up and out to fit his oversized clothes. In fact, his shirt was even a bit snug, and his jeans were tight around a big round muscle butt cushioned with a generous layer of fat.

He let himself grin at his handiwork, compared to the selfie he had taken last time. Looked pretty spot on, by his estimation. Mind you, that had been months ago, and after a long winter…

His belly swelled out a couple more inches, bulging over the waist of his pants.

He smirked. The only thing out of place was the trendy haircut, but the black ballcap with the Blue Jays logo took care of that.

Five minutes later, the garage door opened and the silver Camry drove out. Any neighbours watching likely recognized it as Adam’s, but had they looked closely, they would have seen it was driven by neither Adam nor Cassidy, but a burly, hairy giant they had never seen before.




The drive into the city was pretty brisk at that time of night. Finding parking downtown, however, was a Herculean labour. It was almost midnight by the time he was walking down Church Street.

He wanted to make a sprint for his destination before all the action dried up. That was a Cassidy thing to do, though, so he resisted the instinct. He was Butch. Butch was cool, calm, impossible to ruffle.

From the top of the stairs to Woody’s, a pink-haired drag queen threw up her hands and screamed. “Butch! Sup, hon? Why don’t ya come inside, tell ole Velveeta where you been all this time, mmm? Won't that be nice?”

Butch chuckled. “Not tonight, Vel.” He caught the kiss she blew him in his hand and thumped his chest, which resounded with a thick smack.

Two tanned gym rats were standing outside Sailor, smoking cigarettes and shivering in the cold. When the one with his hair bleached blonde saw him, his eyes went wide. “Butch! Holy shit, dude this is Butch!” His taller buddy had his black hair slicked back and a thin silver chain nestled in his pec cleavage, exposed by a deep v-neck.

Butch grinned and nodded. "Hey Raph."

"This is Butch?" Raph's tall friend asked skeptically, eyeing Butch up and down, apparently unimpressed.

Raph narrowed his gaze, smacking his friend in the chest with his backhand. "Have some fucking respect!" He brightened as he turned to Butch. "Fuck bro I thought you moved to Vancouver. You comin in?"

Butch shook his head apologetically. "Sorry bud I'm partying at the Eagle tonight."

Raph looked crestfallen. "Naw, dude, lemme buy you a beer."

"Next time, Raph," Butch chuckled as he waved them goodbye.

"Hope it's soon, yo," Raph called back before continuing to admonish his friend.

Next up was Flash where some twinks were milling around, too distracted by sharing youtube videos from their phones to pay him any attention. He didn't recognize any of them anyway.

Beyond that, the prize was in sight. Nestled amongst the cheerfully coloured storefronts of the Village and rainbow flags festooning the streetlights was the Black Eagle, a black and featureless square building like a lump of coal in a basket of easter eggs. The blacked out windows made it even more foreboding, but for the crowd it catered to, that only drove them wild.

The two bouncers standing outside completed the image. One he recognized, Daniel, stood as tall as Butch, was bald, black, and packed with muscle. He was tightlipped, which was unfortunate because whenever he did speak he revealed a deep Caribbean accent that rolled off his tongue like a slow moving river of honey. His companion did enough talking for the both of them. Nearly a foot shorter than Daniel, he was wider and thicker, a buzzcut of his dark hair connecting to a short beard. He was built like an offseason bodybuilder, with a pair of big round pecs on top of a huge roid gut. Any more size on him and he would have been straining his black T-shirt, already probably a double extra large.

Butch grinned. Seemed like a good place to start. As he closed the final few paces, he sent out one link to Daniel, who idly scratched his elbow, and a second to the other bouncer, who was ranting to Daniel about how he would have done the finale to Breaking Bad.

“So Todd has a gun on Skye, right? And then…” he stopped as he noticed Butch turning in. “Hold up, big guy. Arms out.”

Daniel held up his arm. “Leave him be, boy. He won’t be troublin.” He crossed his arms again and cocked his head. “Don’t take nothin’ personal, Butch. Cliff ‘ere’s just… enthused.”

Butch shrugged. “Been havin some trouble here, Daniel?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nothin we can’t handle. Boys try an’ sneak in drinks, is all.”

Changing someone while he wasn’t looking at them was a skill he hadn’t had ample opportunity to try, and whenever he changed Adam, he could never muster the strength of will to tear his gaze away. Even thinking about it now, Butch found his cock stirring. But tonight wasn’t about causing a commotion, he just wanted to go for a little field trip. He nodded, listening to Daniel, but focusing on Cliff.

Butch chuckled. “I can’t imagine anything gets past you, man.” He turned towards Cliff, who was scratching his stomach with a suspicious look on his face. “Hey, I’m Butch.” He stuck out his hand, smiling to himself.

Cliff had swollen even thicker. Not by much, but enough to push the limits of his shirt. Cliff swallowed awkwardly, shaking the outstretched hand while tugging at his collar. “Cliff.”

Now that Butch had Cliff’s attention, he shifted his focus back to Daniel. “Been at the Eagle long?”

“Just a few weeks. New in town,” Cliff answered, glancing briefly at Daniel, then doing a double take.

“Well I’m late enough as it is,” Butch sighed, turning back to Daniel, who now stood an inch taller. He clapped him on his solid shoulder. “Nice seein ya.”

Daniel merely nodded, going back to silent mode, as Butch walked past them, up the steps into the bar. He glanced back to see Cliff eyeing his coworker up and down with uncertainty, and allowed himself a smirking chuckle before he severed the links. He couldn’t afford a repeat of the Jamie visit. As much as he’d love to see Daniel towering over a Cliff swollen with brawn, it invited attention he wasn’t ready to attract.

The bar was dimly lit and pumping electronic music that no one was dancing to. It was only Wednesday, so the bar wasn’t as packed as it could be, and of those who were there, only a few had bothered to get out their full costumes, but two older patrons standing at a table near the entrance were fully decked out. The fat bear of the two with a greying goatee had a leather police hat, and a thick leather jacket worn open to expose his otherwise bare chest and bulbous beer gut, which, at a wink from Butch, got a few inches more bulbous as he took a long draw from his pint. His smaller friend looked Filipino, was bald and wore a laced up leather shirt, and chaps over a jockstrap. Butch watched him open his mouth with a start as the jockstrap suddenly became tighter around a bigger dick.

The bear put his beer down, scratching at his belly with a belch. “You ok?”

His friend adjusted himself. “Hmm? Yeah, yeah…”

Butch smiled as he brushed past them on his way to the bar. Attending it was Tyson, bright-eyed twentysomething otter, his harness exposing his lean hairy torso, carefully manscaped to look like it hadn't been manscaped. He finished serving his customer and turned to Butch, his eyes twinkling as he shook his swooping bangs from in front of them. He had accessorized with spiked bracers and collar.

“Holy shit, Butch, I thought I’d never see you again,” he laughed, leaning across the bar to give him a one-armed hug. “Christ. Everyone said you moved to Vancouver.”

Butch laughed. “I don’t know how these things get started.”

Tyson poured two shots of Jameson and picked up the one nearest him. “Welcome back, man.”

Butch picked up his shot and clinked it against Tyson’s. “Thanks. Great to be here.”

They knocked it back in unison, and Tyson smacked his lips. “So what’ll it be?”

“Let’s start with a Tankhouse. It’s still on draught, right?”

Tyson nodded and went to pull him the pint. Maybe too slim for the regulars’ tastes, Tyson had established a well-earned reputation for going home after every shift with one of the tourists who drifted in mostly out of curiosity. Butch wanted so much to buff Tyson up right there, have that harness snap off him, but he knew that would be far too noticeable. To Tyson’s credit, he only started for an instant as his cock lengthened three inches down his leg, and didn’t even spill any beer.

Butch put a bill on the bar as Tyson returned, walking a little wider but otherwise unfazed. “Hey I saw Tahar earlier. I know he’d love to see you.” He set down the beer and collected the cash.

“Nice,” Butch nodded. “Thanks.” He nodded, sipped his beer, and turned away before Tyson could return and insist on awkwardly giving him back his change. He glanced around the bar. A few he recognized, though he didn’t know well enough to approach. No sign of Tahar. Most were couples or groups of three, though the lone exception was a blonde guy in khakis and a thin V-neck sweater, striped black and white. It looked like he had gotten lost on the way to his frat house. He had neat, casually-styled golden hair, blue eyes, and a boyish face, leaning his butt against barstool, sipping the last few drops from a bottle of Stella Artois, and desperately trying not to look like a kitten at a doberman convention. His eyes darted around the bar, as if he expected at any minute someone would approach him and ask him to leave. When he spotted Butch looking at him, his eyes went wide and he took a gulp from what was evidently an empty bottle, then turned around, leaning on an elbow the bar and waving Tyson over. Butch lowered his gaze to the khaki-covered ass he was sticking out behind him. Not bad, but could use some improvement, as his butt swelled a couple of inches rounder. He didn’t seem to notice, trading smiles with Tyson. Butch smirked, hoping they had a fun night together as he made his way up the stairs to the rooftop patio.

He heard voices as he neared the top. “... you don’t have to settle for these creeps, man.”

“Yeah, Brent, you could do so much better, seriously.”

“Fucking christ. It’s not settling!”

It was still cold and the middle of the week, so while the patio was opened, no one was at the bar, and the only people up there were three university kids that fell silent as Butch crested the top of the stairs. All jocks in the early twenties, by the look of them, though one was particularly thicker, with the early makings of a muscle gut stretching out his Blackhawks hoodie. Butch nodded to them and turned to go back down, but paused on the stairs once he was out of sight, leaning on the handrail, sipping his Tankhouse.

“So wait, you’re telling me you actually think these fatass pedos are, like, sexy?”

One of them chuckled.

“Dude, give me a fucking break. You don’t go to bars to hook up with kids. They’re all adults down there.”

“Look, man, I’m totally cool with you being gay, right?”

“Yeah man, you got our full support.”

“But this stuff is weird. I’m not trying to be a dick, all right? But like, what, you’re gonna bring home some… fifty-year-old leather daddy to meet your folks?”

Butch looked down at his beer. As much as he wanted to turn these assholes into the fattest, hairiest guys at the bar, he knew he wouldn’t being doing Brent up there any favours. Man, what a downer. He drained the last of his pint and went down the stairs for another.

Tyson slid over to collect his glass, which put a grin back on Butch’s face. “Who’s One Tree Hill over there?” he nodded towards the blonde.

Tyson’s face reddened. “I know, right? I think he took a wrong turn on his way to a Frank and Oak shoot.” He grabbed the empty glass. “Another?”

Butch nodded, and Tyson poured him another, glancing at the blonde, who was checking his phone. Tyson was grinning ear to ear as he brought Butch his pint.

“Play safe, Tyson,” he chuckled as he handed him a bill. Tyson blushed and winked.

Butch was about to wander back around the bar when he felt an arm slide around his shoulder. He smiled.

“Well well well,” Tahar slid into the empty barstool next to him. “You got some explaining to do, buster.”

Butch glanced over, relieved to see a smile on his face. Tahar was in his mid-forties, and was a total knockout. Forest-green eyes, caramel skin, a cleft chin and a wide smile that dimpled his cheeks. He had a meticulously refined look to him. His slowly graying hair was worn in a high, dense faux-hawk, and he always wore silk shirts, this one a dark blue-grey, left open to reveal his defined pecs, with sleeves that hugged tight to his thick arms. Tahar worked out obsessively and was in fantastic shape, but his type was a big burly bear; the fatter the better.

Butch sighed. “Glad you’re here, Tahar.”

Tahar chuckled, wagging a finger, “Oh no no no no no,” he shook his head. “Where the hell have you been, asshole?”

“Quebec,” he answered.

“Everyone said Vancouver.”

“Quebec,” he shook his head. “Had a run from Huntsville to a town called Fermont, way out east. Occupied most of my time the last few months.”

“If by few you mean, like, eight.”

“Six, tops.”

Tahar rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” he leaned on the bar with a sigh. “Why’d I have to fall for the only bear with no phone or Facebook or fucking anything?”

“Ah, I don’t go in for that crap,” Butch took a swig from his pint. “You wouldn’t like me so much if I did.”

“I’m sure all the phone sex would counterbalance that,” Tahar smiled, drinking from his bottle of Keith’s. “Doesn’t get lonely on the road?”

“Course it does,” Butch shrugged. “You find company every now and then. Don’t tell me you’re coming off a six month dry spell.”

Tahar smiled coquettishly. “I never kiss and tell.”

Butch snorted. “Oh sure, but you just dive straight into fucking and can’t shut up about it.”

Overhearing at the taps, Tyson stifled a laugh. Tahar tried to look insulted but looked mostly amused. He wiped perspiration off his beer bottle and flicked the drops into Butch’s face. He chuckled, draining his pint, and pushing himself to his feet. “Order me another pint, will ya? I gotta drain the lizard.”

Butch walked into the restroom to catch Cliff checking himself out in the mirror as he flexed. The burly bouncer played it off like it weren’t no thang, dropping his pose and nodding to Butch. “Sup?” he greeted gruffly, before shouldering past him and out the door.

Butch brought himself up to a urinal and took out his cock. As he started to piss, he wondered about Tahar. What would he be open to? How would he react to-

“I said fine! Just let me take a piss; Jesus!” the door swung open and the burly college kid Brent stomped in, stopping short when he saw Butch already there. Butch glanced over then turned politely back to the wall.

Brent heaved a sigh and approached the urinal two down from Butch, and maneuvered his dick out. As surreptitiously as he could muster, Butch looked him over. He had a hefty build, filled out his hoodie and his jeans nicely. His sandy hair was in an innocuous crewcut that could use a trim, but he had a cute face and slate-coloured eyes. Butch considered pumping him up some, but judging by those poor excuses for wingmen, Brent wouldn’t be seeing any action tonight, so it would be almost a taunt to give him some temporary size. Although…

Butch raised an eyebrow. He did need the practice. Obviously with himself and Adam, he had been cautious to make sure the changes would wear off, so he’d never had any chance to try the permanent technique. It would take more effort, but… he had seemingly already projected a link to Brent before he made up his mind.

Brent gasped as he felt his cock growing in his hands. Still soft, issuing a steady stream of piss, but somehow plumping up, and his balls following suit. He glanced furtively over at Butch, who kept his gaze firmly fixated on the Polar Ice vodka ad in front of his urinal. Had he been less preoccupied, Brent might have noticed that Butch had stopped peeing.

As Brent was convincing himself he was just imagining things - more realistically than he had ever experienced - his chest suddenly started to pump up. He looked down and saw it expanding. He held his breath to make sure it wasn’t just his breathing, and sure enough, his already commendable pecs were inflating. What’s more he heard them, felt them getting bigger. He realized he had stopped peeing, and stuffed his cock back into his pants as he noticed his sleeves were tighter around biceps that had gained at least an inch, maybe two.

Butch heaved a sigh, put his dick away and turned to the sink. He wiped a copious amount of sweat from his brow, wet his hands, and wiped them off on his jeans, not even bothering with the air drier, and quickly left the bathroom, and avoiding looking at Brent at all costs.

Back in the bar proper, Butch let himself catch his breath. Fuck, that had taken a lot out of him. If permanently applying even minor transformations was this taxing, he could only imagine what a major one would do to him. He definitely needed more practice, which wasn’t going to be easy to accomplish without anyone noticing. If Adam went ahead with what he was planning, it wasn’t going to be as easy as Cassidy had first surmised. He would worry about that later, though. Right now, Butch had Tahar to worry about. He slowed his breathing, wiped the sweat off his face, and returned to the bar.

Tahar was strumming his fingers next to two shots of whiskey. He smirked as Butch pushed his way past a couple of leather-clad lesbians. “What, did you…” he narrowed his gaze. “Hey man are you all right?”

Butch nodded absently as he maneuvered back into the barstool. “That ain’t a brew.”

“Seriously, Butch, you look really flushed.”

Butch shook his head. “I just went up to the patio to get some air. That bathroom fucking reeks.”

“Oh,” the concern dissolved out of his voice, “well anyway, I decided to change your mind for you, because I was kinda hoping you’d be into getting out of here. I wa-” there was a swell in the bass just as the woman next to Buch let out a shrill cackle pretty much right in his ear, drowning out whatever he said.

“What?” asked Butch.

Tahar leaned in, touching his cheek to Butch’s as he shouted in his ear. “I want you all to myself!”

With his back to them and his hands full trying to mix a Manhattan, it was all Tyson could do to stifle his laughter.

Butch chuckled softly as he watched Brent stagger out the front door, dazed and confused.




Tahar didn’t live far so they chatted as they walked. Tahar had been seeing someone for a few months. They had broken up around Christmas. He was too young, and in the closet, and Portuguese, which was a recipe Tahar described as “inherently doomed.” Plus, he claimed, “most cubs aren’t that committed,” and he groped Butch’s ass.

He got a little broken up when he talked about his sister, who was still in Lebanon and whose husband had died in August of a pulmonary embolism. He had wanted to go back to help her out, but his lawyer had told him it was a bad idea.

There was no elevator in Tahar’s building but his bachelor apartment was only on the second floor. It was an open concept space. Tahar was a pretty good decorator and had managed to class it up quite a bit, giving it a bold coat of paint and decorating it with ultra-modern furniture. Cassidy’s only criticism was that it lacked a couch of any kind, but that wasn’t the kind of thing Butch worried about.

Butch got himself undressed while Tahar disappeared to his kitchen. He was already hard, so climbed into Tahar’s luxurious bed and over sateen sheets of Egyptian cotton - all terms Butch’s vocabulary lacked - and stroked himself. Tahar had seemingly been on a similar wavelength, returning to the bedroom with a small cutting board holding two shots of tequila, two lemon wedges, and a salt shaker. His other hand had a half-full bottle of Trago Silver, which he was rubbing against the erect penis standing out from his svelte, sparsely fuzzy, completely naked body. Tahar set the bottle on the nightstand and Butch took the cutting board to hold it steady while Tahar climbed in next to him. They licked, drank, and bit the salt, shot, and lemon. Tahar set the cutting board on the nightstand next to the bottle, shut off the lamp, and turned back to kiss Butch.

Butch ran his hand down Tahar’s side, feeling his muscles shifting beneath his velvety skin. When he got to his hips he pressed his hand against the small of Tahar’s back, and felt his abs pressing into his hairy belly. Tahar glided his leg up and over Butch’s, locking their knees together and rolling his body against him, gasping for air between long, deep kisses, licking grains of salt and drops of sour lemon from the inside of his mouth.

Butch pushed Tahar onto his back, rolling on top of him, knowing how much he loved having Butch’s substantial weight pressing down on him. Tahar moaned into him, groping Butch’s belly before massaging his way around to his ass, which he squeezed hard enough to elicit a wince. Butch chuckled, and sat up, running his hands up and down Tahar’s thighs, sticky with a whisper of sweat.

Tahar turned around onto his stomach, and began reaching over for his nightstand, but Butch leaned over. “I got it.” He opened the drawer, feeling around for the green box of Trojans right where they always were. He fished one out and unwrapped it, tossing the sleeve onto the floor and affixing it to the tip of his cock. Tahar raised his smooth round ass into the air, rubbing it against Butch’s testicles. Butch glanced over, making sure Tahar wasn’t looking, and shuddered briefly as his hard cock got another inch bigger to a full seven. He grinned as he unfurled the condom down his shaft, hugging tightly. Tahar moaned beneath him. Butch rose up on his knees, hefted his big belly, bounced his big pecs.

Fuck, he thought, I love being Butch. So big, so cool, so tough. Everybody loves Butch, everyone wants to hang out with Butch and be his friend. He’s so hot and masculine, and everyone wants to bottom for him.

He looked down at Tahar, grinding his ass up against him, begging to get fucked by Butch. He’d never beg Cassidy. He ran his cock down Tahar’s crack and began to push into his expectant asshole. Tahar gasped, and pulled himself up on his hands. Butch leaned his belly down on Tahar’s back as he pulled out a bit before pushing in deeper. Tahar pushed back, climbing up the headboard, the muscles of his arm straining under Butch’s weight. He rolled his hips backwards against Butch, forcing his cock to the hilt. Butch began to pump and pump and pump and Tahar replied to each with a grunt. He freed one hand from the headboard to start jacking himself off. Butch roved his hands around him, one clutching at Tahar’s abs while the other played with his balls. Soon they were both grunting, almost in unison.

“Aww FUCK!” Tahar cried as he came in his hand and clenched his ass around Butch’s fat cock. Butch grunted loudly through clenched teeth a few seconds later as he came. He felt the liquid fireworks of pleasure spiralling up from his crotch and down from his brain, oozing warmth into every corner of his massive frame.

Tahar let go of the headboard and let himself fall into a slump on his side, pulling off from Butch’s cock in the process. He peeled the condom off and tossed it onto the floor, then lowered himself beside Tahar, wiping his cum-slick dick across Tahar’s thigh.

Tahar chuckled. “Mmmm you’re so fucking dirty.”

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint,” Butch groaned.

“I fucking love it.” Tahar leaned over, and began pouring a shot.

Butch glanced over. “Fuck, man, you’re nuts.”

Tahar knocked it back. “You want one?”


Tahar poured the shot in the same glass and spilled a few drops on the way over. Butch took it and downed it, making a face. Tahar laughed and returned the glass to the table.

Butch settled down on his side behind Tahar, draping an arm over his torso. Tahar’s hand twisted into his. “So… are go gonna be around, like, for a while or…?”

Butch exhaled through his nose on the back of Tahar’s neck. “It’s unpredictable. I don’t know.”

Tahar nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Butch fought to keep his eyes open. He really didn’t need that last shot. Consciousness slipped away from him so fast he could swear he heard Tahar say something before he was completely asleep, but it was like an echo being shouted up a long stairwell. He couldn’t really understand it.

It may have been “I love you.”




Brent held his flex in his bicep for as long as he could and pulled the tape tight. Just over twenty inches. Same as the last three times. He relaxed his arm and let the measuring tape go loose. His eyes fell back on his reflection.

Brent was a recently out gay university student who was training to be a linebacker next year and had minor body issues. He knew his body well. He had measured just this morning and his arms had been eighteen then. Even then, he was being generous. At least two inches over the course of twenty-four when he hadn’t even lifted that day. The measuring tape - and the scale that reported he had gained fourteen pounds - just confirmed what he already knew, though. He glanced to either entrance to the common bathroom in his residence. It was four in the morning on a Wednesday but there was always a risk of being interrupted but he didn’t have a mirror in his room and using the mirror app on his phone hadn’t illuminated very much.

He looked awesome. Brent was on the husky side, and he still was, but the muscles beneath had been pumped up a notch. He had a defined valley in his pecs now, and a pronounced vein across his biceps whenever he flexed. Even his traps and lats were more prominent. He looked completely different. Not to mention… he glanced down at the reflection of his loaded bulge. At least two inches there, too, though he hadn’t given it a full examination at full mast and wasn’t going to risk THAT in the common bathroom.

He had changed in the bathroom at the Black Eagle. As little sense as it made he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. He’d sobered up on the way back and hadn’t been that drunk to begin with. He had felt it happening. It had happened.

Could Mahtab have been telling the truth? Magic? It was just so nuts. The things she said she was able to do weren’t anything like this, but she said there were others too. Brent sighed. He had always stuck to his guns that Mahtab was crazy and that he was justified in cutting off ties. If she was right, though…

How insane was it that the most reasonable explanation was magic? If that was true - and it was still a big “if” - then the only question left was… why? Not who, though. There wasn’t anyone else around, it was obvious. It was that gigantic guy with the huge gut and the Jays cap.

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Already liked this on CF too, really really enjoyed chapter 4 of this especially. I hope Butch takes over and I can't wait to see what happens with beefy football stud Brent. I hope he gets thicker and bigger like Butch!

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Maximilian, this is fantastic so far. Great attention to detail and character development, and the erotic parts are very hot. Keep up the good work!

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